The Universal Language
There we are, 11 of the 50 American teenagers in the midst of the greatest adventure of our lives, sitting on a stone ledge lining the only street running through Tavarone, Italy. Behind us is one of the colorful buildings in the village, outside of which locals socialize. We are smiling into the lenses of the camera and surrounded by the local children whom we just befriended. We (the Americans) are noticeable by the navy People to People lanyards hanging from our necks and the tired expressions on our sweaty, yet smiling- faces. A close look at me in the very far left of the photograph shows my make-up free face and messy hair thrown up into a ponytail without a care. In fact, all of us are attired more sloppily than we have looked on the entire trip. No other time would you have caught me wearing my nice, white cardigan with those running shorts.
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