It was March 1st, and opening the door of my room in my home after five months away felt surreal. In that moment, I was instantly transported back to the end of September, when I had closed that same door to start my internship at the European Commission in Brussels. I remembered the first time I saw my little room in the city where I had always dreamed of working, or the first time I stepped into my office at the Commission and felt like I was part of something bigger. Now, sitting in my room at home, I truly realized how much going away had changed not only how I see the world, but also how I see my home.
Of course, Brussels brought me a whirlwind of emotions; above all, independence, curiosity, and cultural encounters, as I worked alongside people from all over Europe. I won’t deny that at first, it also brought discomfort because I was living in a new country and had to start completely from scratch. There was no safety net of old friendships or familiar places to fall back on, which made me feel vulnerable and isolated. But gradually, I started to adapt and embrace my new life in ways I never imagined. I began to appreciate my independence on a deeper level.
Returning home to my family after those months abroad revealed things I had never noticed before: how much I had started to cherish the little routines and quiet habits I created. Suddenly, the familiar places in my hometown felt different.Each time I did something I used to do, it felt like experiencing it for the very first time with new eyes. Even the first day back in classes at Bocconi felt strangely new.
One stark example that comes to mind is how doing the exact same thing, like going for a run, felt completely different depending on the place. Running is my way to relax after a long day, to let my thoughts settle and my mind clear. In Brussels, I found a cute park near my apartment where I would go for runs in the evening. It became part of my new routine, a quiet space in the middle of a bustling city. Months later, coming back home and returning to the familiar path along the lake, the one I’ve run countless times before, felt… different. The same activity in two different places didn’t feel the same at all. In Brussels, running helped me process all the newness and stress of adapting. At home, it felt like reconnecting: with the rhythm of my old life, with memories tied to that familiar place.
It was strange to compare the two. The pace of the city versus the calm of my hometown. But in that contrast, I realized how much I had changed, and how even the most routine things can take on new meaning depending on where you are.
There was also a strange mix of nostalgia for the things I missed and relief for the things I didn’t. I felt a disconnect from my roots. The places I thought I knew felt both familiar and foreign at the same time.
Sometimes, I feel that this sense of disconnect doesn’t just apply to places or experiences but it extends to people as well. I went through all these new adventures and changes, and suddenly, my old friends from back home don’t quite understand what I was experiencing anymore. It feels like we’ve grown in different directions, creating an unexpected gap between us. This distance, which is, of course, also a natural part of growing up, seems to have grown more after spending time abroad.
I can also say that, while in Brussels, the distance helped me gain a fresh perspective. Living somewhere new made me appreciate my old home even more. It made me miss my favorite pizzeria and the calm of quiet summer evenings spent going out to eat my gelato. When I returned and could enjoy those things again, I discovered a deeper love for my hometown’s simplicity, which was a calm contrast to the hustle of a relatively large city like Brussels.
This is not the first time I’ve experienced this feeling. Almost six years ago, I had just returned from a nine-month exchange in the U.S., and the sense of disorientation was even more intense. I remember that it took me a couple of months to readapt back to my old life, almost like an inverse culture shock, and I had to relearn how to fit into the routines and relationships I once took for granted.
Now, sitting on a park bench overlooking my beloved hometown lake, I recognize this shift in perception, a sign of both growth and a renewed connection to home. It’s like I’m two different people: the one I left as, and the one I returned as, so full of these new experiences.
I feel shaped by the people that I’ve met and the places that once felt foreign but now live inside me. Each place left its mark; through habits I’ve picked up, values, and different perspectives from what I was used to, but that taught me something valuable.
All these little lives I’ve lived, versions of myself I’ve met along the way, are part of who I am today. I used to think home was where I came from; a fixed and familiar place that never changes. I know now It’s not just a location on a map, but a feeling I carry with me, something that grows as I do. Home is the place that welcomes every version of me, the place that waits for me every time without demanding I stay the same. And maybe that’s the most comforting thing: to know that I can leave, learn, and come back; wiser, and maybe a little braver to begin again.
I’m Sveva Rossi, I have a bachelor’s degree in Marketing and Business, and now I'm pursuing studies in Politics and Policy Analysis as a first year master’s student.
As an organized and inquisitive person, my experiences abroad have consistently pushed me to engage with diverse cultures, which fascinates me greatly.
My interests, both on paper and in conversation, include politics, especially within the European institutions, economics, and equality. I'm also an enthusiastic Formula 1 racing fan.
