Hey there! Jeff here. I’m Savannah’s husband- she’s mentioned me in an article here and there, but this is my first contribution to the site. I grew up in Maryland and got the chance to travel quite a bit with my family early on. I didn’t get the chance to leave the country until well into college- I’ll be writing about things abroad, but a lot of my content will be US-based. Given our time in Italy though (oh yeah, we moved abroad- did we mention?) that’s my starting point. I’m excited to share my experiences here and hope you’ll come along for the ride!

For me, growing up, the definition of “home” was pretty fixed. My parents bought their house two years before I was born, and they still live there today. We had our idyllic little sanctum, and I took that consistency for granted. When I left home, I never really left “home:” I moved to DC, but I still had a job in my hometown, and it was only a 45-minute drive to the surroundings I’d always known. Even if the view was different when I first opened my eyes in the morning, I’d find myself in a city I had been visiting since I was a little kid. Nothing really shifted when I “left,” because I didn’t really leave. I didn’t get my first taste of challenging that idea until a few years ago.

In 2016, Savannah and I decided we would take a nice trip for the post-Christmas break and go see Italy. My previous forays outside the States had been a blast but had always been to places I didn’t connect with at all. But I’ve been proud of my Italian heritage since I was a kid. I even jumped at the chance to learn Italian in high school and college. This was my first time going back to the land of my ancestors, and I was already excited when we booked our plane tickets. I’ve still got quite a bit of learning to do about my Italian heritage, but I know we have family that came from Salerno- so I was already waiting with bated breath for our first stop in Naples. But nothing could prepare me for what I experienced when we arrived.

I’m a huge fan of the feeling of that first step into a new place. Seeing it out the window of the plane/train/whatever is one thing, but once you’re outside the feeling of a place just hits you. When I first went to Austin to meet some online friends for the first time, the step off the jetway was the beginning of my fostering of a stronger relationship. My first steps into Heathrow were my first into a foreign country and represented the promise I could find there. The first steps into Fiumicino had an air of something special, but it wasn’t until I first stepped off the train in Napoli Centrale that something just clicked inside me. I would find myself looking at the mundanities of my surroundings, be they a piece of graffiti on the street or the old men chatting with their morning coffee, and something inside me seemed to say “this is right. I belong here.” I’d never felt that before, and never quite felt it since.

I know, I know. It’s such a trite thing to say, and I doubted myself a few times when I first pitched this piece. But honestly, I wouldn’t share this if it wasn’t completely true. In the time since, I’ve been able to see another seven cities around Italy, and while I love this country dearly and have enjoyed all of those cities, Naples was the only city outside the DMV [ed note: the DMV is an abbreviation for DC, Maryland, and Virginia that locals use for the DC metro area] that seriously felt like home. New Orleans, Austin, London, Rome, New York- I love them all and can’t wait to see them again, but they’re not home to me. It feels like a subtle distinction, but in essence, it’s a cavernous gap. Getting an espresso in Milan, say, I find myself looking forward to the chance to come back and do it again. But getting one in Naples, I don’t ever want to leave. There’s such a strong sense of belonging. Even then, it’s easy to write that off as just the love of seeing a new place, but that’s the thing- it never left. Every day in Naples I found myself just growing to love the city more and more and more, and it never waned. When we left Naples for Rome, even while enjoying the new city, a part of me wanted nothing more than to go back to Napoli. I haven’t been able to realize that dream yet, but I still have a drive to see that dream come to fruition.

On the other hand, circumstances coalesced last year to force us to move and figure out what building a life overseas really would be like. While we did end up back in my beloved Italia, it was less of a planned decision on our part and more the need to take a chance that we couldn’t pass up. Savannah got into a graduate program here, so time was of the essence- we were taking a leap, one that took us both well outside our comfort zones. And, of course, this all has to happen in the midst of a pandemic, so that certainly casts a shadow over everything we do. But in the end, we ventured forth and first settled in Bologna. (We’ve since moved on- stay tuned for further tales!)

As excited as I was/am to start an Italian life, the more permanent feeling of leaving everything behind hits harder than I expected- like I said, this is my first long-distance move. On top of that, even if it is still Italy and only a 6-hour train ride from the city of my dreams, I don’t feel that same connection. Our overarching feeling upon arrival was an equal mix of hope and the relief of leaving the gloom of the US behind (this was August 2020, for reference). It’s not as potently optimistic a feeling as the promise of a new life on vacation. That said, given time, I’ve come to realize that as long as your heart’s in it, anywhere can become home.

The routine of a neighborhood is the biggest help there is. Once your bags are unpacked and your job/school/whatever has started up, you can get back to the most familiar aspect of home there is: the neighborhood. Eventually, you’ve got to pick your places- your coffee shop, your bodega, your grocery store, your bar, what have you. Vacation is a time for seeing something new every day- home is the land of familiar comforts. Even in the time of COVID, the Italians are a people who enjoy what they enjoy, so there are ample pickings for finding your new usual haunts. And as the case may be, re-picking said haunts. (We’ve been through three usual coffee spots already. In the end, our top spot was Rossofuoco, a solid immigrant-run spot by Porta Lame- you won’t be disappointed.)

Overall, life abroad has reinforced the ubiquity of modern comforts to me. For all of the regional/national differences that we have to prepare for in going to a new place, there’s quite a bit about life that translates across nations. You might be using a different contraption to do it, but it’s still making a cup of coffee in the morning. The plug might be different, but the TV in your living room is still a TV. The people in the neighborhood are speaking a different language and eating different food, but they’re still just looking for a fun evening in their town. Given the structure of Savannah’s program, we moved again, so we get to review this process anew in Brussels. Look for Part 2 when that comes- until then, what are your thoughts on finding and cultivating a new home abroad? I’m curious to hear from others how their experiences have been on this front.