I’ve been in England for 9 months now and I consider the life I’ve been living here as important as my life back in Italy. Every experience, new friendship, place has given me memories that won’t be forgotten.

Everything started more or less a year ago, when, coming out of the blue, I told my parents I wanted to go abroad for a year. I’ve always been interested in travelling and I’ve been lucky enough to have the opportunity of going on holiday to a different country every year, but this time I wanted to have time to actually fully experience a new culture so that it could become part of me.
When my parents saw I was being serious about this new idea that had come up in my mind, they supported and helped me from the beginning. They were as excited as me about it and I didn’t need to convince them, they already were.

November last year I went to Turin to meet for the first time a member of the organization I had carefully chosen. The meeting worked out really well, I was more convinced than ever and I was already considering where to go. To be honest, I was really attracted to Canada but after few thoughtful considerations, England resulted to be the best choice: not too far (I had never been on a plane before), ‘original’ British English, beautiful places and strong culture.
It was hard to contain the excitement and my mind couldn’t stop thinking about the actual possibility of leaving home for an entire year.

My organization requires an English and a psychological test before the application, so another day later on in December I went back to Turin to attend the tests (which I reckon sound really scary but it makes you feel like the organization is actually taking care of you by testing if you’re ready for such a changing experience). I did fine in the English exam, which by the way was a really genuine interview about interests/hobbies/school and family, and whilst waiting to get into the room for the psychological exam I had a sigh of relief because I was really sure about my decision of leaving and I though it would be clear to the psychologist. Unfortunately, during the interview an unexpected problem came up: I’ve never been much of an eater (I used to have really picky tastes) and apparently that could be a problem in the new country (different cuisine and food). I remember wondering around Turin with my mum afterwards: I was mad at myself because I didn’t want my tastes in food to stop me from having such an important experience and while such a storm was bursting inside me, everything surrounding me looked happy and joyful with tonnes of Christmas lights and people happily coming in and out shops with their hands full of presents.

The results from the tests arrived by mail few weeks later: I had been accepted!
The tiny bit of hope left at the bottom of my heart had grown bigger again and as soon as possible I started filling all the documents necessary (health information along with more personal details so that I could be matched with the family most similar to me). By that time, I had already chosen where I would go: a lovely touristy town by the sea called Weymouth. With the benefit of hindsight, I can now say I made a really good decision. After nine months, every day on my way to college I still look around me amazed by the beauty of the place as much as I was the first day I arrived here.
The first time I actually realised that the idea I had in September was becoming reality was when, as a Christmas present, my grandad gave me an envelope with British pounds and notes in it. The thought of what that money meant pleasingly hit me in the face. I remember everything about that moment: what I was wearing, who was around me, the Christmas decorations on the walls… that’s one of those memories that I can vividly re-play over and over again in my mind without getting boring because the amazing feeling of surprise and happiness is still there every time.

From January to June I tried to ‘forget’ about my future experience so I could focus on school: when it finally ended, I only had the best in front of me! Holidays and then my departure in August. I didn’t know that two months could actually last that long. Thinking about those now, I recognise they’ve been the slowest and quickest two months of my life. They seemed ages at the time but some how the time to leave came in a second. A lot of people think that leaving is the hardest bit: a lot of goodbyes of course but with the most exciting experience just waiting for you to live it; new country, place, people, school, language and friends. I wish I could live that moment again: shivers of excitement running up the back and still not realizing what is actually happening not even when you’re saying the last goodbye and stepping on the plane…
…and that’s only the first of an infinite queue of such powerful moments that I’ve lived throughout this amazing year.