Coming Full Circle

Four months later, I'm back in Pittsburgh.

It's surreal and I haven't decided yet if I like it.

The greatest four months of my life ended rather perfectly Thursday. I woke up early and went on a last hike around the city with Lydia. She met me at Via Ventisette Aprile, 11, for an adventure around my end  of town.

We wandered pretty aimlessly around residential Firenze, stopping to take pictures here and there (in front of a fancy church, on a bridge over a creek, in front of a mural outside an elementary school, with some statues in a sculpture garden), then headed to a park where we sat on a bench and just enjoyed the sunny weather for awhile.

From there, we walked across town to Cerchi so that I could pick up my Italian Art final (Aced it! All those hours of drilling dates into my brain paid off!) and say good-bye to Rocky. He still doesn't know my name, nor does he care what it is, but he doesn't know anyone other than Leanne, the art major, so I don't feel so bad.

We met Erika at school and the three of us went to Pizza Leone near Lydia's apartment for lunch, followed by a brief stop at Lydia's to get a scale to take to my apartment to weigh our luggage for the flight home.

We took the scale to my apartment, then made a trip to the Accademia to say good-bye to David.

From there, we backtracked across town for a walk along the Arno, stopping at a look-out spot to take about a hundred jumping photos with our favorite river as the backdrop. We returned to the city center via Ponte Vecchio and split up, both going to our respective apartment to change and get ready for dinner.

The Via Aprile gang (all five of us) then made our last trek across Firenze to the six-girl apartment where we met for a walk up to Piazzale Michelangelo. We watched the sunset, sitting on the steps overlooking Ponte Vecchio and the Duomo, and killed about six bottles of wine (we were all fighting the first stages of depression, so we needed that vino). After the sunset, we walked to Il Gatto for our last family meal in Firenze, then sent the rest of the night out in style at the Lion's Fountain.

Erika, Bethany, and I said our good-byes and left Lion's just before 3 a.m. Then it was home to shower and finish packing before meeting the rest of our family at Aeroporto di Firenze at 4:30 to catch our first of three planes back to America.

Firenze Airport turned out to be the most difficult of the three airports we flew out of. Caitlin and Bethany both got sent back to the ticket counter to check their carry-on bags, even though the ticket counter had okayed them to fly. There was a whole big mix-up there about whether Caitlin and Bethany could keep their bags, and they had to stand in line for a long time.

The remaining twelve of us were, at this point, standing on the shuttle bus waiting to go to the plane and panicking over whether Caitlin and Bethany would make it in time. They missed the shuttle, but luckily caught another one and got onto the plane at the last minute, both very upset, of course. So that made it a difficult flight for all of us, but things went more smoothly in Frankfurt and our international flight crossed the Atlantic without a hitch. It was a much better ride to the States than it had been to Frankfurt in January. In January, the plane was packed and I was squished uncomfortably between two strangers the whole way. This time, the plane was almost half empty, so Caitlin and I had a seat between us to stretch out. Maria even got a whole row to herself.

I slept on and off the whole way to Philadelphia and we arrived in the States an hour ahead of time. We found Glenn, who had originally planned to stay in Europe an extra week, then had to book his own flight home when his plans fell through, waiting for us near the food court, then we all stopped for dinner and our last few hours together.

Philly was the worst. We went our separate way around 6:30 and it was horrible. For the first time in four months, I had to say good-bye to eleven of my closest friends, knowing that we won't all be back in class together on Monday. I managed to hold it together pretty well, my eyes just watered as I hugged everyone in the Cleveland crew good-bye. Lauren was the worst, though. She had to fly back to Buffalo by herself and it was painful to watch her walk to her gate alone.

Caitlin, Maria, Glenn, and I waited by ourselves for about half an hour at our gate until we could board our flight to Pittsburgh. It was sitting on that runway that the weight of leaving my friends and going back to life without them hit me and I started to cry for real. Which Maria loved, since she's always the one with the waterworks.

"Glenn! Caitlin! Turn around! Amy's crying!"

"I'm not, guys," I sobbed. "I'm okay."

"Aw, Amy. I didn't know you liked Philly so much," Glenn laughed at me.

By the time we got into the air, I had pulled myself together (mainly because our flight was delayed about half an hour on the runway due to bad weather), but it was a somber ride home.

Pittsburgh International Airport was surreal. We stopped to collect ourselves and kind of brace for impact before we met our families at baggage claim. There were lots of tears as we each met our parents, and even more after we had our bags and said good-bye to the last of our Florence Family.

What struck me most on the ride home was seeing grass everywhere. Even now, I feel like I'm in a jungle after the concrete of Firenze city center.

Coming out of the Fort Pitt Tunnel and seeing the Pittsburgh skyline illuminated in the night took my breath away, and I realized (with some wonder and deep appreciation) that, even next to cities like Firenze, Roma, Venezia, Milan, Madrid, and Athens, Pittsburgh more than holds its own.

It was too strange coming home and sitting in my own parents' living room after four months away. Mrs. Re came up almost as soon as I walked in the door to say hello, but I really just wanted to see Michael, who couldn't meet me at the airport due to his newest film premiering at Arts Alive.

He finally got home about an hour and a half after I did, but our reunion didn't go as I'd imagined. Instead of running up to him and tackling him in the airport, I stood at the top of the stairs in our kitchen  while he ran up from the garage. And then I started sobbing the second he hugged me. It was a pretty embarrassing reunion. So much for holding my own and telling him I missed him. Instead I sobbed into his shoulder for a few minutes while Mrs. Re shouted from the living room that someone should be getting this on film.

So yeah. Home sweet home.

After that I went to bed, and woke up confused in my bed in Pittsburgh around 9 a.m. Saturday. Then I cried again because I didn't hear Erika's espresso maker bubbling nor her radio on.

It's definitely bittersweet to be home. I'm happy to be back with my family, but I miss my new family and Firenze, the first city where I ever had a place of my "own."

It will be tough readjusting to American life, but I wouldn't trade the last four months for anything in the world. I trust that this isn't the end of my travels either. As good old Jack would say, "I have longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life." And my life will never be the same.