Thousands of miles from Boston--I learned of the attacks on Paris while strolling along a narrow street in Amsterdam, Holland. Catie received a text message from her dad, concerned and frantic--he wondered about her whereabouts and her safety. "Guys--guys did you hear about Paris--guys, my dad just texted me...". I'm embarrassed to admit that I allowed myself to be distracted by whichever touristy attraction we were attempting to navigate to. Of course I was shocked and sad, but I was also selfish and preoccupied with something so petty, so small.
We later returned to our quaint AirBnB only to quickly become inundated with text messages, Facebook posts and emails once we entered the precious wifi zone. Friends, family and classmates were reaching out to each of us--hoping, praying that we were safe wherever in the world we were at that time. It soon hit. I was a hop, skip and a jump away from an act of terror. Better yet, I was in Paris, attending a jam-packed concert exactly three weeks ago.
An anxiety that I didn't recognize suddenly flooded my mind and body. I asked myself, "Am I safe?" "Should I be worried".
I phoned my Mom, hoping for some reassurance. She repeated over and over that I'm perfectly safe, so long as I'm not in Paris. For some odd reason I didn't believe her.
More recently, Rome has been a topic of conversation regarding potential terrorist attacks, and so cue the panic-stricken texts and emails from my parents, and the hysteria among my classmates.
I must admit I have been frightened by all of the intimidating propaganda and the concern from my family. But, and I think most importantly, I have consequently gained a larger perspective on the world and what is going on in it.
For having lived almost 21 years on this Earth, I have not once felt unsafe in my country, my town, or my home.
Now, I reside in Italy, and in Rome more specifically—and that naive sense of invincibility has escaped me. I’ve left the bubble that is the United States of America. My neighbors are now France, Austria, and Germany, but not too far off is Turkey which neighbors Syria and Iraq. I am among the rest of the world. A feeling that is almost impossible to feel while secluded, far off in the US--where I’m taught to have my guard up while returning to my dorm from a late night at the library—something a young child in the middle east would be lucky to have as their largest fear.
Among all of this, this notion of invincibility among Americans has been proven not only by myself but over and over again, as I continued to communicate with friends and family back home. Facebook has become, yet again, a medium not for the sharing of photos and memories, but a platform for ignorant Americans to share their ideas as to how the US should react, respond, prepare or retaliate—to attacks that occurred thousands of miles away, to the French, and on French soil. These comments, so entitled and matter-of-fact, angered me. How could these Americans be so selfish and so self-centered?—I found myself trying to convince my friends and family that the problem is here, where I am, where I’m living. They were safe, they were far, far away from the conflict, the danger, but was I? Was I safe? Am I safe? Meanwhile, in Rome, the Italians were brave, moving about their lives as they normally would—and again, the American in me had me thinking about escaping, returning to the country where my biggest concern is navigating home after a later night at the library.
It’s strange and maybe even horrible to say that I am in a way thankful to have experienced these threats of terror while in a country that could very potentially also be in harms way, but I think I am. Up until now, war has been a far-fetched concept that is handled on foreign soil, never to encroach on my day-to-day life. I now know of its reality—and I’m presently dealing with living among this reality, and I’m finally becoming the less jaded and more globally aware person that I hoped this experience would allow me to become. I only wish the circumstances were different.
We later returned to our quaint AirBnB only to quickly become inundated with text messages, Facebook posts and emails once we entered the precious wifi zone. Friends, family and classmates were reaching out to each of us--hoping, praying that we were safe wherever in the world we were at that time. It soon hit. I was a hop, skip and a jump away from an act of terror. Better yet, I was in Paris, attending a jam-packed concert exactly three weeks ago.
An anxiety that I didn't recognize suddenly flooded my mind and body. I asked myself, "Am I safe?" "Should I be worried".
I phoned my Mom, hoping for some reassurance. She repeated over and over that I'm perfectly safe, so long as I'm not in Paris. For some odd reason I didn't believe her.
More recently, Rome has been a topic of conversation regarding potential terrorist attacks, and so cue the panic-stricken texts and emails from my parents, and the hysteria among my classmates.
I must admit I have been frightened by all of the intimidating propaganda and the concern from my family. But, and I think most importantly, I have consequently gained a larger perspective on the world and what is going on in it.
For having lived almost 21 years on this Earth, I have not once felt unsafe in my country, my town, or my home.
Now, I reside in Italy, and in Rome more specifically—and that naive sense of invincibility has escaped me. I’ve left the bubble that is the United States of America. My neighbors are now France, Austria, and Germany, but not too far off is Turkey which neighbors Syria and Iraq. I am among the rest of the world. A feeling that is almost impossible to feel while secluded, far off in the US--where I’m taught to have my guard up while returning to my dorm from a late night at the library—something a young child in the middle east would be lucky to have as their largest fear.
Among all of this, this notion of invincibility among Americans has been proven not only by myself but over and over again, as I continued to communicate with friends and family back home. Facebook has become, yet again, a medium not for the sharing of photos and memories, but a platform for ignorant Americans to share their ideas as to how the US should react, respond, prepare or retaliate—to attacks that occurred thousands of miles away, to the French, and on French soil. These comments, so entitled and matter-of-fact, angered me. How could these Americans be so selfish and so self-centered?—I found myself trying to convince my friends and family that the problem is here, where I am, where I’m living. They were safe, they were far, far away from the conflict, the danger, but was I? Was I safe? Am I safe? Meanwhile, in Rome, the Italians were brave, moving about their lives as they normally would—and again, the American in me had me thinking about escaping, returning to the country where my biggest concern is navigating home after a later night at the library.
It’s strange and maybe even horrible to say that I am in a way thankful to have experienced these threats of terror while in a country that could very potentially also be in harms way, but I think I am. Up until now, war has been a far-fetched concept that is handled on foreign soil, never to encroach on my day-to-day life. I now know of its reality—and I’m presently dealing with living among this reality, and I’m finally becoming the less jaded and more globally aware person that I hoped this experience would allow me to become. I only wish the circumstances were different.