What's all this about going to Italy?
I get a range of reactions when I tell people I'm moving to Italy for grad school. Everything from "you have to go, now's the perfect time because you're young" to "really? aren't you scared?". To be honest, it almost doesn't feel real to me right now. It often takes a while for big things to hit me fully. So right now, I am taking it day by day, preparing for my move.
Some days it is scary, some days it feels too good to be true. Part of me didn't want to tell anybody because I was afraid everything wouldn't fall into place. The truth is, something still could happen to prevent me from going. We live in crazy times - this pandemic alone points to that. But I am not in control of potential obstacles ahead - I have no hand in that. All I can do - and am doing - is continue to take steps forward.
Why Italy?
I didn't pursue this on a whim. This has been in the works for over a year, and it almost didn't happen.
About a year ago, I applied for a Fulbright scholarship to this incredible university that I found in Italy. I spent months preparing an application, with the help of many professors and advisors. I poured myself - and a great deal of time - into that application. My already hectic senior year - interning full time, classes, and leadership roles on two different executive boards - was even fuller with my mind ruminating on this application around the clock. I was listening to podcasts and music and reading books to learn Italian - I had totally immersed myself in the idea that I might be going to Italy. That was "Plan A", even though I knew it was highly improbable.
A few months later, I found out that I was not accepted for the Fulbright scholarship.
Of course, I was crushed - who wouldn't be? I think even more than my own disappointment, I felt terrible for having asked so many professors to invest in my application process. So much time was spent advising, writing recommendations, getting advice - from people who were kind enough to give in a circumstance with minimal ROI for them.
My pride and my self confidence took a pretty big hit. But, being able to look back on it all now, I think that was a really good thing.
I've always been a pretty good student - partly because I've worked hard and partly because I am a perfectionist to a fault. And so in the school setting, I've had a certain amount of success. But it's completely irrational to think you can go through life without limitations. Or without failures. So I think that experiencing what felt like a huge personal failure, I was humbled. And my idea of myself was humbled as well. I definitely needed that.
Don't get me wrong - I've experienced plenty of my own failures. But, it had been a while since I had experienced a failure that was public, that impacted other people. And it's really not healthy at all to hide all your faults and put up a front of perfection. Even if that is what society seems to demand from us. Therefore, this rejection gave me a more realistic understanding of myself that I thought I already knew, but not wholeheartedly. I had to embrace this and share it with people, and that taught me a great deal.
So, in the middle of my senior year, "Plan A" was scratched, and I really wasn't sure what I even wanted "Plan B" to look like. I immersed myself more in school, interning, and activities, putting my next steps off for later.
A few months went by, and I had a couple people suggest that I just apply to the university itself. Try again? That was a concept that hadn't crossed my mind. I had really let go of the idea altogether. But I figured, why not? It couldn't hurt to have more options.
The second application process drew out even longer than the first. Mostly because the program was delayed due to COVID. What was supposed to begin in October was moved to January, which gave me a lot more time to put off the application itself, and the thought of trying again.
Eventually, I got over myself and just put in the work - which consisted of a lot of email correspondences to the university and the Italian consulate so I could ask about 1,000 clarification questions and get my application "right". Thank goodness for email, and the patience they had with me.
I tried to remain more emotionally detached this time, what I told myself was *realistic*. And I searched for other options as well - job opportunities, places to go (or stay). But sure enough, on a Friday in October, I found out I was accepted (!!!).
I was excited, surprised, and completely uncertain of what to do. Was this really it? What came next? I prayed it over, talked to family and friends, and decided. This was my next step. And I've been preparing for it ever since.
Why this program?
Apart from the location itself, which is incredibly exciting, the specific master's program I applied to was what really drew me in. I will be learning about food cultures from around the world - to put it simply - which is something near and dear to my heart.
I have always been captivated by other cultures - their traditions, beliefs, languages, food. There is so much to learn from other places. When I was a young kid, I was fascinated with Native American cultures. I would beg my mom to take me to the library so I could read books and watch historical documentaries (on VHS!) about their lives. In middle school, I took French classes and became involved in French club, where we would learn about France's holidays, traditions, and took part in annual language competitions. I dreamed about the day I would be able to visit the country I so loved learning about. And so from a young age, I had a heart for learning about places foreign to me, and the people in them.
This interest of mine was compounded by my internship experience in the clinical nutrition setting. I consulted with multiple patients from foreign countries, and would have to rely on a translator line to communicate with them. This made conversation quite difficult, and I found myself thinking, how on earth could I provide meaningful nutrition advice with such minimal context on what these patients eat at home? How was I supposed to explain what a low potassium diet would look like if I wasn't even sure what sources of the nutrient they were getting? And that's just a small example.
I thought about how scary it must be, to be a patient in a hospital where no one speaks the language you speak. To constantly be communicated with through a phone that is hard to hear, and to feel frustrated that you cannot explain everything you need to. And then, to receive advice that likely doesn't hit home for you.
As a nutrition professional, I want to be helpful, and I want to make a difference. Food is powerful. But connecting with people needs to happen before any advice is going to be meaningful. So I am dedicated to learning more about food cultures around the world for this reason. To better connect. Will it ever be perfect? Likely not. But making that effort is important to me, and I plan to continually learn as much as I can.
I am hoping this master's program will be the first of many steps in that direction.