Back in 2000, I was a freshman in college. I remember coming back home for Thanksgiving, sitting in my old room after everyone else in the house had gone to sleep (I have always been a night owl), and wanting something that I couldn’t quite identify at the time.
I was craving more of the freedom and independence that I had recently obtained being on my own for the first time. More than that, I was craving adventure. Adventure, mystery, and the exotic. It was a funny feeling that I couldn’t get rid of.
As I was sitting there, a memory came to mind, and I pulled out my literary anthology from one of my high school English classes. I flipped to a short story I remembered by Ernest Hemingway. I remembered that the story took place in Africa and had to do with safaris. It seemed that such a story might satisfy the craving for adventure I had, so I sat there and reread the story.
The story was “The Short, Happy Life of Francis Macomber.” It did satisfy that weird craving for adventure I had, and I was intrigued. I thought to myself, I get this. A dude has no self-confidence, can’t stand up for himself, and let’s his wife walk all over him. He finally decides to stand up for himself, and he feels like a new man. Then his wife offs him because she doesn’t like the change. I get that. It was one of the first times I really connected with a piece of literature.
The next day, I went to the book store and bought a few of Hemingway’s other books. It was like I had discovered a new world, and I was enthralled. And then I read The Sun Also Rises
, and everything changed.


At that point in my life, the only places I had been to outside the U.S. were Canada and Japan. Europe seemed like a mystery, and all of the sudden Hemingway shed a little light on that mystery for me, just enough to get me hooked on the idea.
The Sun Also Rises
intrigued me immediately. Cafés in Paris, the Spanish countryside, bull fights, raucous partying: this was the adventure I was looking for. I wanted to know more. I was hooked, and I hadn’t even been to Europe before.
Luckily enough, after the school year ended, we took our first family trip to Europe, a 10-day jaunt through London, Venice, Florence, and Rome. I became convinced more than ever that I wanted to do a study abroad program, but I still didn’t know where.
We had dinner in Florence one night, and as we were sitting there on the banks of the Arno watching the sunset colors wash over the Tuscan hillside, that was when I knew: this is where I want to study. I want to learn Italian, and I want to experience and learn about everything I can in this country. I fell in love with Italy right then and there.
We came back to the states, and I signed up for Italian class when the next school year started, and the rest is history. I did do a study abroad program (in Verona), I kept taking the Italian classes, and eventually I moved to Milan for nine months. And everything stemmed from that one magical dinner on the banks of the Arno in Florence.
So that is why I fell in love with Italy, and I have Ernest Hemingway and The Sun Also Rises
to thank for that.
What about you? What made you fall in love with Italy?