You Deserve Good Gelato
Travel, Embrace Failure, and Face Your Fears
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Summary
Trading pirouettes for pasta, Kacie Rose embarks on a lively Italian escapade in You Deserve Good Gelato. With humor as her guide, she navigates the winding roads of cultural mishaps and language blunders, transforming each misstep into a dance of discovery. From the chaos of honking Vespas to the serenity of Tuscan sunsets, Kacie paints a vibrant portrait of life lived outside the lines. Her memoir isn't just a love letter to Italy; it's a call to all wanderers at heart to leap fearlessly into the unknown. Whether you’re craving adventure or simply some good gelato, Kacie's tales of resilience and joy remind us that the world is too vast and too beautiful to remain untraveled.
Introduction
Have you ever stood at the edge of a life-changing decision, heart pounding, palms sweating, knowing deep down that what terrifies you most might be exactly what you need? That moment when every rational voice screams "don't do it," while something deeper whispers "what if this is your chance?" This is the story of what happens when we choose courage over comfort, when we leap into the unknown despite every fear telling us to stay put. Through raw, honest storytelling of mishaps, failures, and unexpected triumphs abroad, this journey reveals how our greatest fears often guard our greatest opportunities. You'll discover that the discomfort of stepping outside your comfort zone is temporary, but the regret of never trying lasts forever. You'll learn that failure isn't the opposite of success—it's the pathway to it, teaching us resilience and revealing strengths we never knew we possessed. Most importantly, you'll understand that the voice telling you "you can't do that" is usually wrong, and the only way to prove it is by doing exactly what scares you most. The world is waiting for you to claim your place in it, one brave step at a time.
Taking the Leap: From Fear to Florence
At twenty-four, lying awake at 2 a.m. in my childhood bedroom, staring at a ceiling I knew by heart, I felt the familiar ache of longing in my chest. Years of waiting for the "right time" to visit Italy had turned into years of watching everyone else live the adventures I only dreamed about. The dance career that once fueled my dreams had become a source of anxiety attacks, leaving me feeling trapped in a cycle of auditions and rejection. That night, something shifted. A clarity so sharp it felt like the universe had grown tired of my excuses. "So do it," the thought came, simple and undeniable. Why was I waiting for someone to go with? I was capable, intelligent, strong—everything I needed was already within me. The realization hit like lightning: the only thing standing between me and Italy was fear, dressed up as practical excuses. In that moment, fueled by wine and tears, I did the thing that terrified me most. I booked a one-way ticket to Venice. The decision unleashed every "what if" imaginable. What if I got kidnapped? What if I couldn't handle the challenges alone? What if I simply couldn't do it? But beneath the terror was something stronger—the understanding that living with regret would be far worse than facing temporary fear. Working multiple jobs, sometimes four in a day, I scraped together every dollar needed for this dream. The exhaustion was worth it because I knew that turning back meant carrying the weight of "what could have been" forever. When fear tells us we can't do something, it's usually protecting us from imaginary dangers while keeping us from real opportunities. The scariest decisions often lead to the most transformative experiences because they force us to discover capabilities we never knew we possessed. Every time you choose courage over comfort, you prove to yourself that you're stronger than your fears believed possible.
Finding Home in the Uncomfortable
Moving to Italy permanently meant trading everything familiar for everything unknown. Simple tasks that once required no thought—buying groceries, visiting a doctor, even understanding why pharmacies don't sell birthday cards—became exhausting puzzles requiring Google Translate and patience I didn't know I had. The first time I confidently walked into a pharmacy looking for birthday supplies for Dario's celebration, the pharmacist's confused expression said it all: "Questa è una farmacia..." This is a pharmacy. These moments of cultural confusion became my education in humility. Each mistake taught me that knowledge is earned through experience, not research. You can read every blog post about Italian culture, but you'll never know that produce must be weighed before checkout until you're sheepishly walking back through the grocery store with apologetic smiles. The embarrassment stung, but it also opened my eyes to how much there was still to discover. The key revelation came in Naples, a city I'd initially judged harshly based on others' warnings, only to fall in love with when I returned with fresh eyes and no expectations. The same streets that once seemed chaotic revealed themselves as beautifully alive when I stopped trying to see them through someone else's lens. This taught me that our preconceived notions, however well-researched, can blind us to authentic experiences waiting to unfold. True growth happens when we release our grip on how things "should" be and embrace how they actually are. Letting go of expectations doesn't mean lowering standards—it means opening ourselves to possibilities we never imagined. When we approach new experiences with curiosity instead of judgment, we transform from tourists trying to confirm our assumptions into travelers ready to be surprised.
Failing Forward: Lessons in Italian
The first time I confidently said "mamma mia" in conversation, the words felt so foreign in my mouth that I immediately wanted to spit them out. What should have been natural and flowing came out jumbled and awkward, like my tongue was rejecting this beautiful language it didn't yet know how to embrace. Months of Italian classes had filled my head with textbook phrases, but speaking to real people in real situations was an entirely different challenge that left me speechless more often than not. My failures were spectacular and frequent. I accidentally told a waiter I wanted a penis instead of a pen, informed Dario's mother I was horny instead of excited, and spent an entire evening repeating "anus" while practicing what I thought was the verb "to have." Each mistake burned with embarrassment, but they also became my most effective teachers. The memory of mispronouncing something incorrectly ensures I never make that same error again. The breakthrough came in a crowded market when desperation for taralli overcame my fear of speaking imperfectly. Forcing myself to engage in broken Italian with the vendor, I discovered something magical—he understood me. We had a conversation. It wasn't perfect, it wasn't pretty, but it was real communication. Walking away with an enormous bag of taralli and a heart full of pride, I realized that the goal was never perfection, but connection. Failure isn't the opposite of success; it's the raw material from which success is built. Every mistake carries within it the exact lesson needed to avoid that mistake in the future. When we commit fully to our attempts, even when we're "strong and wrong," we gain the knowledge that only comes through lived experience. The courage to fail publicly is often the same courage required to eventually succeed brilliantly.
Building Community Beyond Comfort Zones
Making friends as an adult abroad felt like dating, but with higher stakes and fewer clear rules. Coffee dates became auditions where I'd recite my entire life story in an hour, hoping for that elusive "click" that would transform a stranger into a friend. The loneliness was crushing—watching potential connections move away at the end of study abroad semesters, settling for friendships that drained rather than energized me, simply to avoid being completely alone in a foreign country. The turning point came through a combination of patience and courage. Instead of desperately clinging to anyone who showed mild interest, I began focusing on people who left me feeling good about myself after spending time together. I met Danae on a rooftop café, bonding over our parallel journeys of following love to Florence. Through her, I discovered others who understood the unique challenges of building a life far from home. Each genuine connection came after many false starts, but they were worth the wait. The magic revealed itself during my second Thanksgiving in Italy, looking around a table filled with friends from around the world who had chosen to celebrate an American holiday they'd never experienced, simply because they wanted to support me. Italians brought champagne to pair with turkey, friends took time off work to join us, and everyone embraced traditions that weren't their own. The warmth I felt wasn't just from the food and wine—it was from the realization that home isn't a place, it's the people who choose to show up for you. Building meaningful connections requires the same vulnerability that makes travel transformative. You must be willing to be authentically yourself, even when it feels exposing. Quality friendships take time to develop, often requiring you to weather loneliness while waiting for the right people to appear in your life. When you hold high standards for how you deserve to be treated, you create space for relationships that truly nourish your soul.
Summary
The most profound truth revealed through every stumble, success, and moment of terror is this: the very thing that scares you most is often the exact thing that will set you free. Fear masquerades as protection while actually imprisoning you in a life smaller than what you're capable of living. Stop waiting for the perfect moment, the perfect companion, or the perfect plan. Book the ticket, submit the application, have the difficult conversation—whatever your version of Italy represents. Embrace failure as your teacher, not your enemy, because every mistake contains the wisdom needed for your next attempt. Most importantly, remember that you already possess everything required to do hard things; you just need to give yourself permission to prove it. The world is vast and full of possibilities, but they remain theoretical until you take the first brave step toward them.
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By Kacie Rose
