Two high school students from Italy, Ilaria and Giulia, have been guests in our home for the past ten days. This completes an exchange student experience my daughter enjoyed at one of their homes earlier this month.
It is wild to me that over a week ago, we picked up two strangers from the airport. Ten days later, tears rolled down my cheeks as I said goodbye as they left for their flights home. I will miss them, my new Italian daughters. My own daughter, with three older brothers, now has sisters she can call her own.
Ilaria and Giulia live near Venice, Italy. I have never been to Venice, but my romanticized movie version of the city looks something like this: colorful flats lining cobblestone streets. An impossibly blue sky with billowy clouds. Quaint bridges criss-crossing the canals. Gondoliers stand regally at the stern of their boats, singing a romantic tune to two passengers who are obviously in love.
I admit that when our guests arrived, I worried they would be disappointed in the United States. Europe is so old, steeped in history and tradition! What could they possibly find here that would even come close to what they already have?
My answer came the day we picked up the girls from the train after spending their first day in Chicago. Their eyes were lit up. They loved the city: the skyscrapers, the almost blinding sheen of the newer buildings, the general noise and energy level that makes Chicago hum. They breathlessly told us of their adventures seeing the sights of the city from the Skydeck of Willis Tower, a river boat cruise, and from days of walking that practically wore holes through their shoes and registered 29,000 steps on their pedometers.
The look in their eyes likely mirrored the look in my daughter’s eyes when she visited their fair city: she loved the rich colors and textures of Venice, the smell of cappuccino and bread wafting out of the shops.
Exchanges like these are so important. It is so exciting to see your own existence through someone else’s eyes, all the seemingly mundane details of your life suddenly technicolor with an air of fresh discovery. More importantly, it’s important to see other corners of the world, so we remember how to be curious and vulnerable. It sharpens our observational skills. It makes us realize how vast and varied this enormous earth is, with different landscapes and cuisines and languages. It makes us realize what a small, tiny speck we are of humanity — not an insignificant speck, mind you — but a speck of something larger than ourselves.
Exchanges like these also drive home the point that people are so much the same: these two teenage girls who traveled from so far away laugh and smile very much like my own teen daughter. They take care in choosing their outfits and fixing their hair. They share similar highs and lows of navigating relationships with friends, parents, teachers, and siblings.
We tried to provide new experiences for our guests, like baby back ribs slathered with barbecue sauce, a live jazz concert, deep-dish pizza, and a hike to the sandy shores of Lake Michigan.
There were surprises along the way: their introduction to the concept of “brunch,” their questions about why we have so many churches and so many Starbucks, and the awe when they realized squirrels run freely from tree to tree in our neighborhood. Apparently, this was a novelty for the Italian guests, to see our plentiful squirrel population. I admit to not having the same appreciation for the squirrels, who greedily steal bird seed from our feeders and rile up our dog to the point of insanity.
For ten days, our childlike curiosity at everything was reawakened. Our family dinner conversations were peppered with questions as we traded details about food, politics, religion, school, and family traditions from our respective cultures.
Two tiny points connected on a map: for a short while, we shared our lives with each other, but I know that my daughter and my honorary Italian daughters will never be the same. The earth is larger now; the world is a little kinder and friendlier because we are no longer strangers.
