Laying exhausted in a random airport hotel near Bologna after four flights and three layovers (and one sprint through the Copenhagen airport), I realized my phone needed to charge. After trying every outlet in the room, I panicked and came to the conclusion that none worked. Even a new charger provided by the kind receptionist proved ineffective. Finally, after frantically texting with my parents, my dad realized I needed to insert my room key into the light switch to turn on the outlets in the room. Needless to say, I was quite happy to leave Bologna (with a full battery). As the sun rose in the morning, I took a bus to the train station and headed a few hours south to Assisi, Italy.

Disembarking from the final train after making a connection in a sleepy countryside village, I stepped outside of the station and realized I was still a ways from the actual town of Assisi. Luckily, I had arrived just in time to catch the bus and enjoy the slow maneuver up a formidable hill until we reached a peripheral town square. Immediately, we were flanked by two churches, including the famous Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi, and I found the town’s beauty almost hard to believe.

A leisurely walk took me to the quaint bed and breakfast where I spent my first proper night in Italy, gazing out at cobblestone streets and the surrounding countryside outside of the town walls. Meandering through the winding labyrinth of city paths on a rainy afternoon, I gazed at medieval cathedrals and tried my best to stay dry. Perhaps because it was a Sunday, rainy, or before the peak tourist season — maybe a combination of the three — it proved to be a sleepy day in Assisi, with many stores and restaurants shuttered. I often found myself wanting to stop and read my book on a quiet bench, and the lull of an empty town led me into a quiet restaurant for dinner before heading to bed early. Having been gone for nearly three days but still alone, I felt homesick and questioned whether this idea of an Italian adventure sounded better than it really was.

Just the same, I woke up the next morning excited to finally begin my time with the English Camp Company later that afternoon. I lugged a backpack containing all of my items for the next six weeks back to the basilica of St. Francis. Heading inside the church after reading for a bit outside, I admired the architectural and artistic beauty and thought fondly of St. Francis, the namesake of the church I’ve attended my entire life — a special experience that enabled me to feel connected to home when I’d never really felt further.

I joined my cohort from the English Camp Company back at the Assisi train station a few hours later (after a soaking wet bus ride, which apparently must be common this time of year in central Italy). Over the course of our week of training, Assisi would be a welcomed refuge from songs, games and chaos — chasing sunsets through its labyrinth of medieval streets often felt straight out of a movie. Beginning my summer in such an impactful, spiritually profound place felt like a great way to kick off the type of adventure that I feel like I’ve longed for my entire life.