This Winter, All Roads Lead To Home

As the world dissolves into winter, and the leaves on the trees complete their cycle of death, it’s important to not let our curiosity perish with them.

As my semester abroad in Rome last spring neared its end, and the advent of my adventures in Italy grew smaller in the rearview mirror, the staff of Loyola’s John Felice Rome Center left my fellow students and I with an important message.

Their instruction was to hold onto an adventurous spirit when we returned home, and to act like tourists in our hometowns.

I carried this advice through the summer and fall. I was reminded of it when I trekked through the woods behind my family’s farm I’d barely stepped in during eight years of living there. Walking through the grounds, I saw cardinals and native flowers I’d never known existed.

Exploring my home made me realize I was far from a native of where I’d lived for nearly half my life. Home never truly felt like a home. Now, back in Chicago, I’ve tried to maintain a schedule that allows for a spontaneous adventure every week, even as the approaching winter and constant gray skies quell my motivation.

Preserving this adventurous spirit is vital in a city and at a university where many of its inhabitants may already feel complacent about their environment.

Trying to act like a tourist in this colossal city can be daunting when realizing there’s more to be explored, and it’s especially easy to forget Chicago’s numerous exploratory opportunities while sitting in a second-story dorm or apartment building when the weather is far from agreeable.

However, the Windy City’s climate shouldn’t be a deterrent to anyone living here. Certain months are brutal in Chicago — it’s a fact of life. But what kind of life is it if a quarter of the year is spent indoors, without nature or adventure?

I’m not advocating for purple skin or severe frostbite, only a change in how people view the weather. Sitting by the fireside, watching the snow fall through a window can be very relaxing, and every person deserves some time to rest, but does said rest need to be continuous from November to March?

Chicagoans can’t afford to live like our native Eastern Gray Squirrels or Meadow Jumping Mice, who hibernate for months on end. We need action and excitement even in suboptimal conditions.

Winter wanderers can take the L to the Art Institute or the Christkindlmarket and almost certainly survive the commute. Sloshing in the snow for a few minutes won’t cause any harm on the way to a cozy museum.

Humans haven’t adapted for thousands of years,  just to now shy away from fall and winter’s challenges.

If you’re ready to venture outside but are worried about the weather, take action to mask the piercing touch of the season. After gloves, scarves, two pairs of wool socks, a cup of hot chocolate and a sturdy coat, it’s almost as if temperatures aren’t below freezing — it’s nearly tropical.

It’s important for a person to feel at home wherever they may roam, and in this vibrant city — where many students have lived for years at this point — finding oneself uncomfortable in the cold or aloof to all of Chicago’s wonderful attractions is a great shame.

We chose Chicago some time ago as the place to be, and that choice was made with our hearts and our brains. Let’s make sure our eyes understand that decision too.

Maybe there’ll come a day when every building in Chicago feels like an extension of home — when being lost becomes a game and not a frightening occurrence. 

In the dead of winter, when most temporary tourists have fled, someone must take up the mantle of the urban explorer. Someone must survey the areas neglected by those in a hurry to take pictures in front of the Chicago River or the Bean. 

In the spirit of adventure and all that’s sacred in this glass-and-brick monument of a city — symbolizing not just survival, but the thriving soul of its people amid howling gales from our frozen Great Lake — we should be the people who make an effort to explore.

Experience an adventure each day, whether in the streets of Rome, a leafless forest or a snow-padded Chicago alley.

It doesn’t have to be a grand journey to the center of the Earth or a climactic hike to Mount Doom. You don’t have to save the world to have an adventure. A simple walk around the block or to a new store will suffice. As for the weather, who are we to let the clouds decide our day?