I’ve spent the last three weeks traveling throughout Bosnia and Croatia, which are the places I call home. Just an hour ago I said goodbye to my family as they headed back to Seattle and I’m now waiting for my flight to Rome. My father spent most of his adolescent years in Italy, looking for stray jobs and eventually my family found refugee there during the genocide against my people in Bosnia. While I was too young to remember much, I am told stories of a magical place where the people are kind, food is good, and history is rich. So with this in my head and heart, I am more than excited to have been granted the opportunity to spend about four weeks in Rome. I have thankfully adjusted to the time difference, but I feel so bad for those coming in today. It is a big change and even after almost a month being in this time zone, I still have sleepless nights and tired days. I don’t think its hit me yet, the fact that I’m almost in Italy.