Travel Diaries / Rome's Beautiful Daughter

It has been a dream I've played with for a long time – packing up my life in a suitcase and studying abroad in a country that’s always been bookmarked in my world map book since I was seven years old. Years of dedication went to building my “darling, we'll fly” Pinterest board. Artistic photographs of Italy, France, and Greece fashion, food, and history plaster across my board. When I finally got the opportunity to live out that fantasy, the reality could not do the dream justice. My first day of arrival in Florence, Italy was like frolicking through a fairytale that exceeded every detail of my imagination. Even the most beautiful Pinterest photos could not prepare me for the magnificence splendor of bestowing Brunelleschi’s Dome.

The dome crept in slowly, like a strand of hair that made its way to my face that I’d only occasionally feel if I was reading on a moving train. If I moved in a specific way — or, in this case, if I caught a specific pin or post – then there it’d be, a fluttering moment of annoyance. I’d brush the strand aside, thinking maybe I just had a momentary lapse of judgement. But it began to grow worse. What’s more is that I started to grow worse. I became more and more in denial as I came across anyone billing themselves as artistic or creative. As absurd as it sounds, I’ll admit: I’ve fought to hold myself back from the fear of falling into a whirlwind of wanderlust.

Fear is a quiet poison. And deep down, there’s usually more to it. For me, what hid under the fear was a love for comfort. Fear that I wasn’t on track with my life plan. Fear that I would fade from relevance with my friends. Fear that I could never survive as an outsider and foreigner. So how does Italy fit in? Dante describes Florence in his Covivio as "that beautiful and famous daughter of Rome". What began as a competition in 1418 ended with a masterpiece that continues to love on as an icon in such the beautiful and famous daughter.

Turning from a busy street corner, I’d never expect it. The commanding mountainous silhouette of the dome sliced itself into my view of the ombre blue sky. Instantly, I had the sense I bestowed upon a mark that was special. A warm and golden glow laced around the different corners. I decided I could set to stare at the entryway, but my eyes couldn’t stay long. The scorching sun reflected off the pink and olive marble of the dome and blinded the sight of the massive structure.

As my eyes wandered around the details of the dome, I thought about the story behind each piece of design. Depth and detail was carved out intentionally. Eventually, the thought struck me like a lightning bolt: I didn’t know how much I needed to see a structure like this. The dome was unapologetically itself. If I ever saw an architectural structure that stood up proud, it was the dome. The years it took Brunelleschi to build it became a form of art. The dome forced me to disarm a guard of timidity. Looking at the light green marble details, I thought about my own details waiting to be discovered through a life of courage to wanderlust.

It’s the pieces of the dome that are different that end up making it distinct and a piece of art history. And it’s the view from the sidewalk by a local cafe that really cemented this for me. Looking up at the masterpiece, I noticed that art by nature cannot be compared. A sense of self-awareness is equivalent to significance. When we’re being strong and courageous, the product of ourselves is the creation of something imaginative and truly beautiful. And that’s the kind of art that inspires. It’s the courage to live out our stories fully with all the surprising storms and stand-alone gold, marble, and carvings that’s truly bravery.

No one can miss that dome in Florence. It stands as a natural compass for those who find themselves lost. For the past five centuries, the majestic dome dominates Florence. It hovers over the slender streets as people stroll, or startlingly emerges into the eye’s view when a corner is turned. It can be seen from the hills of Sandro Botticelli’s neighborhood and from hotel terraces. There is nowhere for the dome to hide. It was created to be courageously and unapologetically itself and to inspire those who bestow it to be the same.