Writers Block

This past summer I fulfilled a lifelong dream of being able to go to Italy. I studied abroad in Rome, but throughout the month as a group we also travelled all over the country to Naples, Pompeii, Capri, Assisi, Siena and Florence. Basically it wasn’t the usual study abroad course. Instead of having class in a classroom for two hours a day Monday–Friday and then having weekends free, we didn’t have class in a classroom really at all. Instead we learned by going out into the city and actually doing things every day of the week. Essentially everyday was an adventure and a new trip.

We would wake up early, usually around 7-8am, walk a few miles from the dorms to wherever we happened to be going that day (a church, museum, ancient landmark, U.S. ambassador’s headquarters, crypt, excavation, catacomb, the Vatican, the scavi under St. Peter’s basilica,) then we would break for an hour to eat lunch. After eating, we would meet back up and walk to another destination and then finally after we were done there, we would walk back to the dorms. This was usually around 3 or 4 in the afternoon. We had nights and some afternoons free to do whatever we wanted, but this was our 7 day a week routine.

While we were there, we were supposed to blog every day about our experiences. All of the other kids would get back to the dorms and immediately go to their computers and blog. There blogs for the most part read similar to this: “Today we went to The Coliseum, it was really fascinating. Then we ate lunch, I tried a prosciutto Panini it was really good.” I would come back and for the first few days I would try to do the same thing, but most of the time I couldn’t bring myself to write blogs that were so bland, especially when I was seeing and doing things that were so incredible. I also didn’t have the time, energy or mental capacity to get everything that was going on in my mind down in one simple blog post.

After a few days of trying this, I gave up on blogging. Instead I would write in a journal, actually I had two journals. One was my academic journal, which I brought with me during the day and scribbled notes down in while we were out at the different sites. It included everything I observed, heard, saw, learned, questioned and wondered. The other one was my personal journal. It had all of my feelings, thoughts, revelations etc. When everyone else was back at the dorms on their computers, I would sneak off by myself and explore the city. I would find my own little private spot and write in this journal.

Eventually I started going back to the same spot, a park that ran around the outside of Castel de Sant’Angelo near the Tevere. For the rest of the month I would do this whenever possible and instead of fretting about getting a blog in everyday I would go out and enjoy the city, the people, the food and the culture, because that was what I had come there for. I was in Italy for crying out loud, I wasn't going to be cooped up in the dorms the whole time. I had come there to saturate myself in what it is really like to be Italian and so I did.

The thing is this experience and everything that happened afterwards (when I travelled by myself to visit friends in Vicenza Italy, Le Mans France and Paris,) should be a source of endless inspiration, but so far I have only been able to write vague overarching statements and memories about the experience as a whole. All of the little specific details and memories just won't come out. When I was there I thought that once I was home and had had time to process the whole experience the words would start flowing easily, but it is now December and the wells are still dry.

I know that it takes time and distance to be able to write well about something. For example, right now all I can seem to write about is New York and all the different experiences I had growing up there, but it took me coming to New Orleans and being here for two and half years to be able to look back at those experiences and begin to broach that subject.
 So, I know it takes time to be able to write about some things,  but I guess I’m just a little frustrated with myself. I've been hit with a bad case of writers block, after almost six months, and thousands of miles of distance between us, I still haven’t been able to write down anything of real substance in regards to the  unbelievable, absurd, unique and astonishing experience I had abroad. My walls are filled with postcards, train tickets, admission tickets, pictures and this large poster that is a collage of old-fashioned paintings of different Italian cities. I see them every day and sometimes they make me miss it so much that if I want to jump on a plane and go right back there, but even during those times I still can’t sit myself down and write about what it is I’m missing. I’m hoping that one of these days I will wake up and the words will hit me like a speeding vespa and I will finally be able to spill my memories out onto paper. Until then all I have to do is wait, but like the saying says, a watched pot never boils, so maybe I should just try to forget about it and when I'm least expecting it I will finally be able to express everything I have bottled up in my mind.