I arrived in Rome about two weeks ago to study abroad, as a chance to experience living in Europe and enjoy its many boastful characteristics–history, food, culture, and landscape. Since this is my second time studying abroad, I wanted to pursue this experience with more empathy and understanding towards the people who already live here. I recognize that I am a guest in someone else’s community and, as an American who does not speak fluent Italian (yet), my existence here isn’t inherently reasonable. I am aware that my living here may not be accepted by locals or embraced with welcome. However, as a Culture and Identity Envoy, I hope that I’ll be able to be a polite tourist in addition to connecting with the local community.
I set out to begin the semester by volunteering at a local soup kitchen, only ten minutes away from my house. This kitchen is one of multiple locations run by a Catholic nonprofit organization in Rome. The kitchens are all operated by volunteers and Romans who clearly care about feeding their community as much as their own friends and family. Several other locations also act as housing centers, which are all open every day of the year and would not function without volunteers. Volunteers arrive at this location around 9 am and stay until around 3 pm to set up, feed around 400 guests, and clean up.
As I approached the center, I wasn’t sure where to go exactly, and two different people pointed me in the direction of the correct door. I met the director of this location, Carlo, who I later learned organizes and pays for all of the food that is cooked and distributed every day. I asked the volunteer who was directing me for most of the day about the other volunteers and the clientele. She said the volunteers rotate often–in addition to myself, about half of the other volunteers that day were also there for the first time, and only a few people actually worked there. She is retired, but has been volunteering there for a year and a half. My job was organizing cups and trays to give to each guest before they got their food. After we opened the doors, I was later greeted again by the same two people who gave me directions in the morning–they were there to eat–and they smiled at me as I handed them their trays. I also recognized some people from my own neighborhood here in Rome, which has a higher homeless and immigrant population than many other neighborhoods of Rome. When I told Carlo I speak Spanish, he informed me that 30% of their clientele is Peruvian. I was surprised not to see many children at the center, but instead mostly adult men. It was enlightening to connect in this way in the community–to know that inequality is being addressed here, just as it should be everywhere.
Spending an extended amount of time as a guest in another country should be treated as a privilege, not a right. Unfortunately, I think many of us struggle to be reminded–or to remind ourselves–of what we should be grateful for. To me, the experience of volunteering contrasts with the sentiment of over tourism and being an arrogant American, at least in a place that I can’t appropriately describe as my own home yet. While volunteering abroad is not a one-off solution to over tourism, I believe it is a good way to appreciate the fact that I am a guest in this country, and I hope to continue to be a polite one. I am so grateful to be here, and I hope that the people of Rome with whom I volunteered may appreciate my enthusiasm for this beautiful community.
For more information on the kitchen, visit https://www.caritasroma.it/
To donate, visit https://www.caritasroma.it/cosa-puoi-fare/dona-ora/