Garret Phipps – Civil Engineering
Claude-Jean, a Frenchman from Lille who spoke very little English, asked if the seat next to me was taken. It was the 4PM Mass at St. Peters Basilica, and he got on a bus that morning taking him and fellow pilgrims directly to the Vatican as part of the celebration of the Jubilee. I moved my backpack to make room for him and his wife, and I introduced myself. “Enchanté” he said, sitting before the overwhelmingly golden sacristy.
We spoke for a while before mass – me in broken French and him in broken English – about what football teams we supported, our conversions to Catholicism, and our experiences abroad. Our conversation was promptly interrupted by the chants of lay choirs and a booming organ. We both took out our prayer translations in French and English, looking at each other and laughing as niether of us spoke Italian.
Or Gabri and Davide. As a group, several students on our program planned to play soccer after our Art History class; down the street was a small five-a-side soccer field, and we assumed it would be empty. Instead it was filled with school age boys playing, from age 6 to 18, after their own classes let out. Naturally, we hopped in; on our team of two Americans were two Italian schoolboys, aged 12 and 13 and about half our height, with another lad aged 17. Effortlessly, we played for two hours laughing, challenging each other to 1v1’s, and trying tricks far beyond our skill level. The thing is, neither of these boys spoke English; only knowing each other’s names, we managed to win.
Like Jean-Claude or Gabri and Davide, we spoke a language not with our tongues, but with our hearts. We understood each other – through our shared faith and love for calcio - deeper than I could have with many people in America.
Although the month-long adventure is coming to a close, my experiences outside of standard coursework is what truly made my experience in Florence deeply worthwhile and fulfilling. One of the single biggest takeaways from this is the fact that almost everyone in the world has very similar experiences, feelings, and dignity, and it takes empathy and patience to connect with people on a deeper level. It takes empathy and patience to speak from the heart with someone, having just met, and understand one another without speaking the same language. Jean-Claude pointed to his heart; Gabri yelled “Gary!” and pointed to his feet for a pass. Things like this remind me life, love, and joy transcends culture and tradition.
I also think reflection is necessary for understanding such an experience and am grateful for the opportunity to empty my mind, with brutal honesty, on such a blog. If you’re reading this, thanks for coming along on this journey with me.
Swanson School of Engineering 