The Wanderer’s Dilemma: Between Runaways and Roots

Not everyone grows up with roots. Some of us grow up with runways. 

I grew up in a family where flights were just part of life—flying for work, studying, to stay connected, and to make things happen. 

I remember in kindergarten, the teachers would ask, “When’s your dad coming back?” and I’d just say, “I don’t know.” Even now, that same question still comes up, and the answer is always uncertain, unless I’m the one picking him up at the airport. My family moved around a lot, adjusted, and tried to stay connected, even when life pulled us in different directions. And, of course, we kept flying. 

My First Flight into My Dad’s World 

I guess it was inevitable I’d learn about airports and flights early. I still remember my first one, though the details are getting fuzzy now. 

I was six. My dad took my sister and me to Milan for a work trip. I finally saw the Duomo, swarming with pigeons. It was the first time I got a sense of what his world was like. 

We wrapped up the trip with a stop at Gardaland where bubble shows, Prezzemolo, glitter tattoos at the hotel conquered a special place in my memory. And, of course, my dad managed to burn the hamburgers and set off the fire alarm. I learned early how to burn food too! 

 

It felt exciting, and I think that’s when I started imagining myself traveling, too. For work. For fun. Or maybe a blend of both. I remember sitting in the airport lounge, reading Geronimo Stilton, and feeling all grown-up with my dad’s grey Nokia in hand, thinking I wanted to grow like that between a phone call, a book and a flight to catch. 

Scout: Belonging and Independence 

At fifteen, I took my first flight alone. My sister and I flew to Abruzzo for an Explo scout camp. One year later, I joined a Sherpa adventure in Colico, up in the mountains of Lombardy, with my best friend and scouts from all over Italy. 

I still remember the canoes, the stars above our heads, the 4 a.m. start to hike 32 kilometres, and the endless rain. We camped by rivers, made bonfires in the mornings to dry our wet clothes, and would jump off huge white rocks into the water when the sun finally peeked out. 

I joined scouting at fourteen, mostly to escape the weight of everything around me. What started as a way to get some space from school ended up becoming my second family. I learned to build shelters out of wood and rope, light fires with twigs, and cook on makeshift stoves. The whole experience was indescribable.  

We went days without a proper shower, but honestly, it didn’t matter. We just became one with the earth, cozied up in our sleeping bags under the stars. And the best part? No phones. They were confiscated for the entire camp. A total detox. 

First Job in London & My Discovery of Diversity 

At seventeen, I flew to London for a summer job. London, the city I’d only seen in Harry Potter movies, suddenly became real. And, thanks to a ridiculous rule my parents had set back when having a phone with internet wasn’t the norm yet, I had no mobile data. So, I became a pro at navigating the city by downloading maps at home on Wi-Fi and hunting down free hotspots. 

I also got my first piercing (much to my mum’s dismay), my first real taste of functioning public transport, and my first real taste of freedom. I remember seeing tattoos and pink hair at work, Black women as bus drivers and LGBTQ+ couples holding hands in the street, and the massive Pride parade in Trafalgar Square. 

I also got a serious crash course in how difficult it is to find good Italian food abroad. I searched Tesco for decent and cheap olive oil (didn’t find it), but at least I impressed my roommates with my attempts at Pesto and Pasta alla Norma. 

When I got back, everything changed. My family decided to move from the South of Italy to the North, which felt like a seismic shift. I made a few new friends, but I also felt like I was losing the safe places I had, kind of like Riley in Inside Out. That was just the beginning of our rollercoaster. 

DiscoverEU: An unexpected Interrail 

But then, an unexpected adventure came my way. I was looking into bonuses for 18-year-olds when I found out about DiscoverEU, a competition for a free Interrail pass, with flights included in special situations like the one I’d created on purpose. So, I posted an Instagram story asking who wanted to join me. Three scouts signed up. And when we were selected, I started planning our fifteen days across Europe, staying in cheap hostels and eating supermarket meals. 

My dad, a former Interrail traveler, encouraged me. My mum was a tougher sell, but eventually, she gave in. We landed in Copenhagen, then Berlin, Brussels, Bruges, Antwerp, Haarlem, and finally cycled into Amsterdam along futuristic bike paths. When our return flight was cancelled, we got upgraded from hostels to a luxury hotel. I think we ate like we hadn’t seen real food in days. 

That trip taught me something important: travel reveals who people really are when the days get long, and their masks start to slip. Also, it showed me Europe and how great it is, opening new doors in my mind.  

A Risky but Worthy Escape to Ibiza 

In my twenties, after a road trip around Sicily with a high school friend, I started college in Milan. It was meant to be a fresh start, and honestly, it was., Bocconi was amazing! But commuting made everything feel like a hassle. Then, COVID hit, again and again. I ended up stuck in my town, feeling disconnected from the campus crowd. I knew I had to get out of that situation. 

In the summer of 2021, I spontaneously accepted an unexpected proposal to go to Ibiza with a €100 round-trip ticket and the rest of the expenses paid with a survival job at a poke bar. 

Ibiza wasn’t just a party island with wild nights (because of COVID, every club was closed except for Cova Santa, where the entrance fee was almost as much as my flight ticket). It was also home to quiet beaches, pine forests, and turquoise waters. I rented a scooter, cruised along the southern coast, and for the first time, I felt like I could just exist, without anyone else’s expectations. 

 Indeed, when I came back, my dad kicked me out of the house because, for the first time, I wasn’t meeting his expectations. I had to face the consequences of my choice. I wasn’t sorry, just in survival mode for a while. However, it felt like the right kind of freedom, the kind you dream about while watching White Lines on Netflix. 

22 and Time for Erasmus in Amsterdam 

The next year, Erasmus arrived, and it was a big deal. I decided to go to Amsterdam, partly because I’d fallen in love with the city during my Interrail trip, finding out I could apply for a scholarship. 

I ended up in a student dorm right next to the Anne Frank Museum, in Prinsengracht. My Danish roommate and I shared a room, divided by a wardrobe. I’d often sit by the window, watching a white swan glide by in the morning, or we’d just sit on our black boat at night, losing track of time by the canal before heading to bed.  

I even got my first tattoo. And I learned how to juggle it all: studying, clubbing, cooking, and always biking around on my rented bike for 18 euros a month.  

The university was like a second home. There were bike parks with free bananas and energy bars in the morning before class, game spaces, comfy study rooms, and a real sense of connection with our tutors. 

Despite the endless rain, I was never sad. I realized it wasn’t the weather that had been making me feel off, it was the overall environment. Living close to everything I needed, with freedom and independence, made all the difference. 

Beyond Schengen: The American Dream 

In 2023, I started my master’s degree. It was everything I expected… until the same material from my bachelor’s felt like déjà vu. And commuting every day started draining me. So, I applied for another exchange, this time in New York State, two hours away from the Big Apple. 

Everyone warned me, “Albany’s dead. It’s freezing there. It’s like the Wild West!” But I decided to go anyway. I mean, it’s New York! How bad could it be? I’m just another Southern Italian heading to America to find my fortune!!! 

I worked at a pub to save up for the trip (with super- cheap flight tickets on SAS Youth) and even made an Excel spreadsheet to convince my parents. My quiet little plan, taking the IELTS, getting my passport, and saving up without telling anyone, was finally coming together. 

Milan to Newark, with a layover in Copenhagen, became reality in January 2025. 

The flight was smooth, and I watched Black Swan on the screen, the hum of the airplane blending with the flickering images. Wrapped in a warm blue blanket, with two empty seats next to me, I felt like I could sink into the moment, though it wasn’t exactly solitude, not with other passengers traveling just like me, all bound for somewhere else. 

I met Molly, a Canadian stranger, who helped me out in the middle of a cold night, wrapped up in my snow jacket. With her mental support, I finally made it to Albany. I crashed at my friends’ places for a week before settling into my college dorm next to the campus centre, where the spacious gym quickly became my routine escape. Two girls, one from Massachusetts and the other from Buffalo, welcomed me with open arms, kitchen utensils, colours, movies, vodka shots, and vapes (because, of course, in a city where tobacco wasn’t trendy and weed was legalized, it was just the thing). They felt like the home I had always wanted to find after an intense day of classes. 

My Exchange Life Nostalgia 

Albany was quiet at first, but soon enough, I fell into the rhythm: campus buses, underground tunnels, and that classic American college vibe with wild cafeterias, a maze of restaurants, free counseling, tons of events and free food and massive libraries packed with free new computers and printers. My classes felt like a game where professors knew my name, and quizzes made everything stick. Walmart became my second home for cheap supplies (surviving on an average receipt of $30, which was even cheaper in euros!).  

Weekends became the highlight: basketball games with cheerleaders, homemade pizza nights, and sometimes trying to crash frat parties or to go in search for pubs. The snow, which everyone had warned me about, turned out to be kind of magical. By March, as it started to thaw, I realized: Albany wasn’t so bad after all, and they loved Southern Italian out there!  

I was living the life—at the movies, at the roller rink, on motorbike trips around Schenectady (the town featured in the movie The Place Beyond the Pines), and biking through the green streets of Niskayuna, with its charming colonial houses and romantic gardens, where wooden chairs sat quietly on the porches. I began to appreciate things like eggs in the morning and long coffees at Starbucks or Stewart’s. I ventured beyond the Capital City too, seeing New York City’s boxy skyscrapers, feeling the thunder of Niagara Falls, and experiencing American politics firsthand in Washington, D.C.—feeling like I was in an episode of House of Cards. 

Back to Europe: A Promising Internship Offer and a Sudden Realization 

Of course, all good things come to an end. As my visa expiration date loomed, I got an offer for an internship at the European Commission, the dream job I’d been chasing since I was eighteen. I was torn. I wanted to stay in the U.S., but visa issues made it complicated. In the end, though, I had to follow the path that made the most sense. I accepted the offer in Brussels. It felt like I was completing a circle my dad had started years before—he had done an internship in Brussels too, and almost moved to the US, but never did. Somehow, my journey felt like a continuation of his unfinished path. 

On May 18, I left Albany. By May 20, I was in Brussels, ready to start my new chapter. 

But the reality was, I’d only just started to enjoy a life that made me feel like everything was possible (despite the rising political tension), and now here I was, starting over once more. 

Leaving Albany left me numb to the idea of meeting new people, except for those in my work team. Finding myself in yet another city, with new roommates and unpredictable weather — gosh, I was focusing again on the weather — pushed me to the edge of saturation. I hadn’t even had time to clean my clothes, still living out of my suitcase. I just packed a small trolley and landed — again. 

The fear of missing out on opportunities and the constant discomfort in my home environment brought me there. But I was caught between two worlds, between the dream of endless travel, always chasing the next adventure and the perfect job; and the pull to settle, to find roots and a place to call home.  

A push and pull between runaways and roots, and it started to feel like I was always running—not just toward something, but away from my parents growing older, my brothers getting taller and my friends starting new routines. Away from the loved ones I met while travelling. Away from anything long-lasting.  

Maybe not everyone grows up with roots, but after all this running, I’m starting to wonder if it’s time to make a runway my home.