The summer after my twenty-first birthday I went to Italy for a language and music program. My first, and - for the time being - only, European adventure. I was wired with excitement. But I remember trying to finish my packing in the couple days preceding my departure, and being hit by sheer panic as I looked from the safe green chair, to the shiny, new, green duffle bag that was supposed to contain all my necessities for six weeks in a new land. Many a time I’d heard heard my father quote Horace: “caelum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt.” That is, “those who rush across the sea change the sky, not their soul.” But the impending journey felt momentous and symbolic …