Terrorist attacks affect experience of Vanderbilt sophomore studying in Italy

by Anthony T. Mazzei

"Son, are you sure it is safe for you to be over there right now?"

"I'm afraid I am better off here than at home," I regretfully answered.

On Aug. 29, I lay awake late into the night. Apprehensive of my flight the next morning to Italy, I went to the window of my parents' Battery Park apartment at nearly 4 a.m. I looked north and there really was no way to escape the sight of the two of them -- the towers. Standing 17 stories up, I tried to swallow the city one last time before I would leave for nine months in search of an education abroad.

My anxieties at the time weren't that of fear. I thought of leaving friends, and family and questioned the uncertainties of the months and experiences ahead. For almost three weeks since I have lived blissfully in the Tuscan cradle of the Renaissance, walking aimlessly through the streets of Florence and worrying only about what bar had drink specials and when trains to surrounding towns departed.

Bang. Like a chest pass to a relaxed stomach, it came in the middle of the afternoon on a beautiful day while I was searching for a bookstore to find Dicken's Pictures from Italy. Then, before I could react from the blow, the screen split and another smashed into my jaw, leaving me stunned and emotionally empty. That's not how it felt, but how it feels.

My parents' neighborhood in flames being televised across the world made every conversation useless until I heard from them and was assured of their safety. Now, days after the event, everything continues to change by the hour. At first, in the days after the attack, American students here in Florence flooded the streets with patriotism. But this deluge was quelled quickly after Internet café arguments, verbal assault on the streets, and even physical challenges in the late hours -- after the bars closed and the drunks roamed -- had all taught the students to act both judiciously and with reserve. The occasional bad apple is especially sour when, as in Florence, sympathy and compassion has been strong.

Now the e-mails are arriving. "Students abroad: Please do not travel out of your cities. Stay close to your school officials and follow all precautions." Parents and schools are frantic in the U.S. about their children and students abroad. There are rumors: They may send us all back; the school may charter a flight. American schools may be targets for further terrorist acts. Everyone is uncertain, and one thing heightens the tension further. "I feel safe now, but if we retaliate ... I think it will be best to go home," says one student from the University of Michigan studying here in Florence.

As the U.S. military response grows nearer by the moment, we can expect American students to be less and less visible in the streets of the city. One place they are sure to be, as they have been for the past five days, is crowded around television sets in the hotel lobby of any which offers English television. Huddled by the screen, reminiscent of some bygone Super Bowl Sunday, sometimes until 3 a.m. waiting for the president to speak or a bit of hope to come through from home.

This display of community has been the most dramatic and heart-warming. Sniffles can be heard and dampened cheeks are seen around the room.

"I'm not worried about the Italian people, but I know that this city is very, very international, and due to the extreme in which our enemy seems to go it keeps me uneasy," adds another student studying through the University of North Carolina while sitting by the screen.

We have been advised not to walk the streets alone at night and refrain from speaking English when possible. Is there cause to be nervous here in Italy? The government and media would lead an American to believe he was safe, but the graffiti and burgeoning voices on the street does tend to unnerve and unsettle the untested student.

Anthony T. Mazzei is a sophomore English major enrolled in the Vanderbilt-in-Florence Program. This article originally appeared in "Italy Daily," a supplement of the International Herald Tribune in Italy, and was reprinted with permission.