As a third Generation Italian, I knew my family's connection to Italian culture had thinned over the years. I had Identified as American Italian for my whole life, without truly knowing what it meant to live as an Italian; needless to say, I was excited to go and find out.

I had three instructors of Italian culture: the friends I met, the food I cooked, and the art I painted.

My friends prepared me for Italian conversations. My limited vocabulary meant I had to depend on other forms of communication. Italians have expressive voices, faces, and hands.

As I sat in the Forno, testing a new apricot filled pastry, I practiced what I was taught. With the occasional translation from the pastry chef, I began to follow and contribute to conversations. I found that the most common characteristic of Italian conversations is genuine intimacy. Even a simple exchange in the Forno is answered thoughtfully and truthfully.

The meals I cooked exposed me to the value Italians put on tradition. As the smell of onions filled the kitchen and burnt my eyes, our cooking instructor expressed the importance of dinner in Italy. Dinner was much more than a time for friends and family to cook, eat, and enjoy each other’s company. It was an expression of community as everyone helped in the preparation and conversation that dinner was. My flat mates and I began to partake in this practice as we explored Italian Recipes, putting our unique twist and keeping the tradition of weekly dinners together.

The paintings I made guided me in the Italian art of spending time. I picked up the practice of carrying my sketchbook and watercolors everywhere. This made it possible to capture every beautiful moment, whether I was expecting it or not. I loved to paint the way sunsets would soak the ancient buildings in a golden glow. The ability to remove oneself from the stress of daily life and get lost in the passage of time is a skill Italians have mastered. By stopping to paint, my art forced me to take in the moment and celebrate every second.

Returning to my family, I began to recognize the Italian culture at the heart of our time together. As our dinner extended much later than planned, I heard the same laughter in noisy conversation, partnered with excessive hand motions of course. I smelled the same delicious food decorating the kitchen table, and I was able to sit and do nothing more than appreciate my family's company. I am so grateful for this opportunity to go and find out who I am; to fully recognize the “Italian” in my American Italian identity.

Name: Alberto Naccarato
Status: Junior
Major: Civil Engineering
Hometown: Grand Ledge, Michigan
Program: Engineering in Rome with CEA CAPA