By Anson

This year has brought me as close to being a shapeshifter as I may ever experience. I have been a tourist and worker in familiar American cities, an imaginary Viking in Reykjavik, and a farmer and explorer in Italy, all in the course of roughly fifty-five days.

Philadelphia

As summer drew to a close, I began the brief American leg of my journey, starting with an extended stay on the east side of Philadelphia. For my time in America, it felt fitting to stay in the birthplace of the First Continental Congress, the Constitutional Convention, and where the Declaration of Independence was signed. I took the opportunity to visit numerous historic sites, including the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, and Franklin Square.

Thanks to Philadelphia’s proximity to the summer camp where I work, I also had the pleasure of sharing this historic city with some of my fellow counselors from Ireland and England, who were traveling through the U.S. before returning home. We wandered past the city’s iconic spots to experience the colonial architecture and modern life that comprise Philly. It was exciting to see my friends—from countries with their own complex histories—experience the roots of American democracy.

Yet, for all the historical significance, my favorite part of Philadelphia was something much simpler: my midday runs down to the Reading Terminal Market. I’d weave through the market’s convoluted maze of walkways, always discovering something new. Inevitably, I’d stumble upon a hidden deli or a wonderful bakery, each offering its own little slice of Philadelphia’s food scene. With the market’s lengthy history, my wandering was the perfect combination of exploration and consumption.

Baltimore

The day before I left for Iceland, I worked in a pop-up wine bottling and labeling trailer in Baltimore. Seeing as I’m not old enough to drink, it was a totally different experience from any work I had done prior. For six hours, I spent time rotating between unloading bottles, placing them in packages, and sealing up the packages for transport. Spending that much time in a small space, I got to know the other volunteers fairly well. Interestingly, one was a geography teacher who shared a collection of comforting insights into some of the places I would be traveling to this year. To top it off, I earned some change for my travels, which was a nice bonus. All in all, it was an event that I hope to participate in again.

Reykjavik

As I wandered through Reykjavik, I couldn’t help but be drawn to its exuberant and colorful charm. One moment I was passing Kattakaffihúsið, a bright pink cat café with multi-colored decor, and the next I was staring at Landshöfðingjahúsið, a vibrant green and red onion dome house. It felt like a city designed with purposeful disorder. As I kept exploring, I noticed something intriguing—most of the older buildings were wrapped in corrugated iron, simulating a sea of storage containers. It turns out that it wasn’t just a funky design choice but a smart one. In response to a major fire in 1915, Reykjavik mandated that closely built homes be constructed with protective iron cladding, a requirement that lasted until the mid-1920s. Genius, right?

But what really blew my mind was walking down Aðalstræti, the oldest road in Reykjavik. There is something humbling about standing on the same street where Vikings once roamed. Clad in my modern thermal winter gear and still shivering, I couldn’t help but be amazed at how these ancient warriors survived, thriving in the harshest of elements with little more than animal skins. It gave me a new appreciation for just how far human resilience and technological innovation have come.

On my last day in Iceland, I decided to go all in: the Blue Lagoon, the Gullfoss Waterfall, Þingvellir National Park, and even an icy blast from the Strokkur Geyser. From the surreal, steamy waters of the lagoon to the jaw-dropping volcanic crater of Kerið, Iceland felt like an extraterrestrial planet, one I just didn’t want to leave.

Later that night, I found myself craving something unusual, so I headed to ROK to try reindeer. I probably looked a little out of place in my grey sweatpants among the suit-and-dress crowd, but I didn’t mind. The reindeer—cold-cured alongside wild mushroom risotto—was absolutely worth it. A weary, exhausted traveler in a fancy restaurant, eating reindeer? Check that off the bucket list!

Fast forward to 7 a.m. the next morning, and I was on a plane to Rome, groggy but fueled by hotel mini croissants and hot chocolate. Iceland and Rome couldn’t be more different. Reykjavik’s frigid, crisp air was swapped for Rome’s sunny, bustling chaos. I exchanged my thick hoodie for a simple baseball cap, ready for a new adventure in a warmer climate.

Rome: La Nuova Arca, Week One

Little did I know, I’d be celebrating my 19th birthday in one of the most iconic cities in the world. I had braced myself for a lonely birthday, but I was in for a surprise. A day early, I met up with a friend who was staying in Rome, and we celebrated with another American expat, who, ironically, attends UNC (cue the Duke-UNC rivalry!). On my actual birthday, my program coordinator Claudia surprised me with a chocolate muffin—complete with a toothpick “candle”—and an off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday.” It felt like home, despite being thousands of miles away.

The day didn’t stop there. Claudia took us on a whirlwind tour of Rome’s greatest hits—the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, and even the eerie Mamertine Prison. Later, I joined Nick and Kruti, fellow volunteers, for pasta alla carbonara at Ristorante Sette Oche and, of course, gelato. Because, let’s face it, you can’t be in Rome without indulging in the food.

As I walked through the city, I was able to take it all in. The warm aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering Pomodoro sauces filled the air, contrasting the loud hum of electric scooters whizzing by and the faint chatter of people in the numerous street-side bars.

The next day, it was down to business—farm life in Rome! Each morning, I along with the other farm volunteers—Cyril, Kruti, Aya, and Georgia—would wake up early and make the long trek to the farm, La Nuova Arca, from our residence via buses and metros. My first week at the sustainable farm included preparing rows for vegetation, planting seedlings, harvesting summer crops, trimming hedges, and clearing rocks for what would be their first-ever wedding. It wasn’t your typical farm experience, but it was fun to think that we were preparing for someone’s big day.

Even in the blistering heat, we would arrive, ready to be at the mercy of Ebrima, our farming leader, and his infectious enthusiasm for farm projects. What stuck with me most, besides the manual labor, were the break-time conversations we would have over shared fruits. We would eat plums, pears, apples, and more to cure our hunger, and while doing so, we were able to ask about the elements of Roman life, from immigration to ongoing policies. There is no better way to learn than from a primary source such as Ebrima.

Between the farm work, I had free afternoons to soak in the city’s chaotic beauty. I roamed the streets, imagining Roman senators strutting through the Forum or gazing down at the sparkling Tiber River from the high vantage points of the city. Rome was more than a city to me. It was a living, breathing history lesson.

Florence

A weekend escape to Florence with Nick and Kruti felt like stepping into another universe. Just one hundred and fifty miles from Rome, Florence was slower, cleaner, and filled with a different energy—older residents strolling casually while taking in the beauty of their city. And then there was the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore. I can’t stress this enough: if you ever go to Italy, see this cathedral. The intricate details, the hand-selected stones, the towering height—it’s mind-blowing. Standing in front of it, I couldn’t comprehend how something so grand was built seven hundred years ago. It’s a masterpiece that humbles the viewer in ways words can’t describe.

Rome: La Nuova Arca, Week Two

My second week on the farm was action-packed. We got our hands dirty, spending hours laying down water lines and silage tarps, securing it all with tilled soil. There is something pleasant about seeing freshly prepped areas of land ready to burst with life. We planted cabbage, broccoli, onion, and fennel. On the other hand, we were busy harvesting an incredible variety of chicory, basil, Swiss chard, and several varieties of eggplants.

 

As the week came to a close, so did my time at La Nuova Arca. The goodbyes were harder than I imagined. It wasn’t just leaving a farm—it was leaving a community. I exchanged heartfelt “ciao”s and “arrivederci”s with people who made this experience unforgettable: Ebrima, our ever-patient and knowledgeable farming instructor; Roslyn, another volunteer whose energy kept us going; Marta, our invaluable farm liaison; and countless others who contributed to this chapter of my year. Their warmth and support made saying goodbye truly bittersweet.

With a mission to aid and include refugees, single women with their children, and people with disabilities, La Nuova Arca was a community that opened its arms to anyone. I would work side by side with people who had made unique journeys to the farm and faced their own intense battles. A significant part of why I enjoyed the work was the opportunity to engage with people living their lives so courageously.

As I packed up and prepared to leave the farm, one thing became clear: you don’t truly know a place until you’ve worked there, lived among the people, and seen it from the inside. Rome’s bustling streets, its mix of locals, tourists, and daily life gave me a perspective I’d never expected. Whether it was dealing with transportation strikes or learning about the culture firsthand, my time on the farm was more than a work experience—it was an immersion. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Rome: Center City

After wrapping up my time at the farm, I moved to the heart of the city, staying with my grandmother, who had rented an apartment for a month in the bustling City Center. With the farm no longer constituting the morning hours, I had the time to venture to the far corners and outskirts of the city.

The Appian Way

My first adventure was walking the Appian Way—one of the first great roads of the Roman Republic. The Mediterranean cypress and Italian stone pine trees towered overhead, casting long shadows as I passed the grand mausoleum of Cecilia Metella, the Capo di Bove thermal baths, and numerous prominent crypts that have stood through millennia. A walk down the Appian Way is comparable to stepping back in time, where history greets you with each footfall.

Monte Cavo

Next up was Monte Cavo in the Alban Hills. The climb itself was steep, and the rocky ground and thick trees offered little distraction from the intense ascent. But the view at the top? Absolutely worth it. From a lower cliff, I could see the towns sprawled out beneath me, accompanied by neighboring bright blue lakes. At one point, I found myself level with the clouds—it felt as though I was walking along the sky. I visited the town below, Rocca di Papa, which offered a unique experience. The city perfectly embodied my expectations of how a traditional Italian country town appears. Each twist and turn in the road confronted me with reddish-orange homes, layered clotheslines, and prolific fruit trees. I was even forced to have a conversation in Italian as nobody I encountered in that part of town spoke English. It was enjoyable and vastly different from my time in any other part of Italy.

Tivoli

Two hours on small back roads, but my grandmother and I made it to Tivoli, a small city filled with impressive structures and magnificent, sprawling gardens. Italy never fails to impress when it comes to constructing grand creations. As we entered the city, it was hard not to get lost in the allure of daily life: kids coming and going to school, authentic Italian cafés buzzing with locals, and small shops lining the cobblestone streets. Once we departed from the bus, we crossed a narrow valley with the fast-flowing waters of the Aniene River—a tributary of the Tiber River—rushing beneath our feet and soon arrived at Villa d’Este. Its Renaissance gardens were beyond breathtaking, with terraced landscapes and countless fountains. The intricate designs and peaceful atmosphere made it easy to see why this place is considered a masterpiece of Italian architecture and landscape art.

As we left the gardens, we strolled around the town. During this adventure, we stumbled upon the colossal Rocca Pia, a historical castle commissioned by Pope Pius II that serves as a stark reminder of Tivoli’s medieval history. Touring the interior, we learned that it began serving as a prison in the time of Napoleon—and, get this, it remained a working prison until 1960!

On our return to the bus back to Rome, we crossed the Ponte della Pace bridge, pausing to gaze down upon the Aniene River below. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow on its waters, turning the river into a ribbon of golden light. This final moment on our walk back was the perfect closing note to a day filled with history, beauty, and memories made with my grandmother.

The Food Scene

One aspect of Rome I will deeply miss is the food. From pasta alla carbonara to pizza ai quattro formaggi, I’ve found myself eagerly anticipating breakfast, lunch, and dinner every single day. This might be the only place I’ve been where I’m genuinely encouraged to indulge in carbs, like my life depends on it. But in all seriousness, the incredible diversity of culinary creations has allowed me to immerse even further into the culture. I truly believe that food is essential to understanding any community, and I’ve made it my mission this year to sample as diverse a gastronomic palette as possible. Rome has left me excited to incorporate more Italian cuisine into my own cooking. To spare you from turning this into a full-blown food blog, I’ll attach just a few photos of my meals.

Honorable Mention: Trastevere

Trastevere has easily become my favorite neighborhood in the Rome Historic Center. After a long day, I would often find myself wandering down there to grab a trapizzino (a triangle-shaped bread pocket with various fillings—I cannot rave about these enough!) or a comforting bowl of pasta. Then, with a gelato afterward, I’d stroll through the numerous small, plant-lined alleys. The cobblestone-lined streets, draping dark green vines, and delightful white lights made for a picturesque view at each turn. When I say I love this place, I mean it—every friend I’ve shared time with in Rome has accompanied me here at some point. Another thing I admire is the Roman spirit, especially when it comes to protests in Trastevere. Time and again, I would see waves of young adults with signs and megaphones, passionately making their voices heard on social issues—all while maintaining an admirable sense of civility. The combination of culinary diversity, picturesque views, and an undeniable sense of community make Trastevere a neighborhood that has truly captured my heart.

A Final Observation

A reflection as my time in Rome comes to a close: this city has not just changed my understanding of Italian culture, but my stay here has changed my understanding of myself in ways I didn’t expect. I came here hoping to learn about a different place, but what I discovered was a new version of myself.

James Clear writes in his book, Atomic Habits, that to break bad habits, you must make the cues that trigger them invisible, unattractive, difficult, and unsatisfying. Rome has provided the tools to do just that. Surrounded by history, beauty, and constant change, my old habits felt out of place. Scrolling social media on my phone? Impossible when there’s a stunning piazza or ancient ruin waiting to be explored. Sitting on the couch for hours? Not when the vibrant streets of Rome are calling out to me. Even eating snacks out of boredom lost their appeal when every café or trattoria offered culinary delights I’d never tried before.

This trip has allowed me to realize that many of my old habits, which may, at the time, have seemed mundane, were harmful in an imperceptible way. This year has been impactful to me in so many ways, and I can’t help but wonder: what else is in store for me on this journey?

Notable Photos