ITALY - ROMA
It’s Wednesday, the 3rd of October, almost four weeks since I arrived in Rome. It’s hard to believe how fast time has flown by. When I arrived here, I expected the usual things to stand out—the beautiful architecture, the food, the crazy traffic. But what’s really gotten under my skin is how life feels slower, more deliberate. It’s like the city forces you to stop and enjoy being alive. I live about 20 minutes from Roma Termini, in a small apartment with my good friend Christian, who’s also here for the semester. Two minutes away is my favorite coffee spot. I go there every day, and the owner already knows me. When I walk in, he greets me by name and starts making my cappuccino. This ritual has become something I love, but it wasn’t always that way.
Back home in Liechtenstein, coffee was something I grabbed on the go, more out of necessity than anything else. I was used to a quick cup, usually to-go, as I hurried off to class or to work. My mind was always racing, thinking about my master’s thesis, the internships I needed to apply for, or all the homework we’ve been assigned. Then there were the everyday worries like, “Do I have enough food in the fridge for the next few days?” It felt like I was constantly juggling everything, never really stopping. But that first morning in Rome, I walked into the café expecting the same thing—a quick transaction. Except, the pace here was different. People weren’t in a rush. They stood at the counter, sipping their espresso, chatting with the barista like they had all the time in the world. It felt strangely... slow. At first, I didn’t get it. I stood there, impatient, my phone in hand, already planning my next steps. But then I realized I didn’t have anywhere to be in a hurry. So, I did what the locals were doing—I stood there and drank my cappuccino slowly. It was such a small thing, but honestly, it felt kind of liberating to just enjoy the moment, instead of always thinking about the next task on my list.
Another experience that really hit me was "la passeggiata." Christian and I were heading home after a long day, and as we passed through a piazza near the Colosseo, we noticed how many people were just strolling. Families, couples, friends—everyone was out for a casual evening walk, laughing and talking, with no particular destination. Back home in Liechtenstein, I’m so used to walks being for exercise or to get somewhere quickly. Here? It’s about enjoying the evening, taking your time. Christian and I joined in, strolling aimlessly. At first, it felt like a waste of time. But after a while, the pressure to be productive faded. The walk became more about the experience, and I realized how much I’d been missing by always rushing. These moments have made me reflect on how different life is back home. In Liechtenstein, every minute feels like it has to be productive, like there’s an invisible clock always ticking, pushing me to be more efficient. But here in Rome, time feels more like a gift, something to savor.
Living in a quieter part of the city offers a welcome escape from the usual hustle—especially during rush hour when subways and buses are packed. The other day, after navigating the rush, I happened upon a small street market nearby. I hadn’t intended to stop, but something about the vibe pulled me in. I ended up chatting with a vendor about the source of his vegetables. He told me his products were grown just outside the city, in lands that the ancient Romans farmed. Many of the veggies I bought—like cabbage and asparagus—the ancient Romans have used in their cooking. He also mentioned that lettuce, which we take for granted, was a staple for them, used in salads and as an appetizer. I left with way more vegetables than I knew what to do with (still not sure how to cook half of them), but that’s the beauty of living here—you never know what you’ll stumble upon, and it always feels like exactly what you needed.
It’s those random little moments that make me feel like I’m settling in. I’m realizing that life doesn’t always need to be planned out to the minute. Sometimes, the best parts happen when you let things unfold naturally. Maybe when I go back to Liechtenstein, I’ll bring a bit of this Roman pace with me. Maybe I’ll still worry about deadlines and the practical stuff, but I’ll also remember to slow down, enjoy my morning coffee, and take a walk—not because I have to, but because I can.