Defining Italy brings to mind many words: faith, love, beauty, art, history, death. But if I had to chose one, I’d pick beauty. Each town I’ve visited in Italy inspires me in a different way; Rome, history and intrigue. Florence, art and contemplation. Capri, beauty and mysticism. Pompeii, archeology and death. Anacapri, creation and awe. Brescia, design and appreciation. Moniga, landscape and tranquility. I could go on and on. But I’d rather you see for yourself.

When a place inspires you, when it opens up feelings hindered by the cement walls and temperature controlled rooms, you are forever changed. Some changes are for good, others may bring about a new affinity for home,  wherever that may be. Italy is not my home, yet it is. I keep it in my heart when in Texas and Arkansas. I look for it and find it in the small areas of my world.

Arkansas may not boast frescoes of colorful angels on my ceiling as the palace in Brescia did, but I do find color. Houston, Texas certainly would be miserable in the hot, humid summer without A.C.  but on the cool windy days I am reminded of the smell of Italy’s air.

Living among a new culture allows me to reflect and realize what exactly I love about life.  When abroad, I tend to group my favorite things in two categories. One: Things I Can’t Wait To Get Home To: the love of my life, my two dachshunds, family, friends, my sense of security; all things not replaceable, and  Things I Will Miss: gelato, unprocessed food, the Italian language, pasta, mosaics, walking instead of driving; cultural aspects.

Does this mean I belong to a culture that is not mine? Was I born in the wrong country? Do I have Italian blood running through this mixed breed of Irish, Scottish, and who knows what else? Or do I just simply appreciate a way of life that I want to incorporate into my own?

Dinners where conversation can overrun the meal, mid-day breaks where one can re-charge, a city that remains true to tradition–I can infuse these practices into my lifestyle. It’s possible in America. But before I turn on that t.v. and settle in for the evening, I must remember that reality cannot be captured in a box. It must be experienced outside, in creation, where beauty is ultimately mimicked in art. And I can find that everywhere.

But I am glad I found it in Italy.