Olivia Matha, Fred Rogers Scholar, Marketing Major, Digital Art and Media Minor, Saint Vincent College Class of 2025
Traveling to new countries brings a thrilling sense of adventure and possibility, but one challenge I hadn’t anticipated was how often I would need to communicate without words. Before my journeys through Barcelona, Rome, and Paris, I thought connection relied solely on language. I worried about fumbling through foreign phrases and the awkwardness of relying on translation apps. However, I quickly discovered that love, kindness, and patience are far more powerful than fluency. Across bustling train stations, crowded cafés, and silent museums, I learned that genuine human connection doesn’t need words to be meaningful. Smiles, gestures, and shared experiences became my tools for bridging divides, transforming uncertainty into understanding. Each city taught me not only how to communicate with others, but also how to listen to the quiet lessons about myself that emerge in moments of vulnerability.
Studying abroad during the fall 2024 semester, I found myself far from Saint Vincent College and the Fred Rogers Scholars program, yet I was continually reminded of Fred’s ways of thinking and taking in the world. His belief in the power of human connection, empathy, and quiet reflection echoed through my experiences. In fact, as I moved from one city to the next, I found that each place, each challenge, and each moment of growth could be encapsulated in a particular Fred Rogers quote—words that became guideposts for understanding the lessons woven into my travels. At the beginning of each section, I’ve included a quote to serve as a reflection, a reminder that even in unfamiliar places, the values of kindness, patience, and deep listening remain constant.
“There is something of yourself that you leave at every meeting with another person.”
In Barcelona, I learned that kindness and warmth are universal, especially for travelers unfamiliar with the culture, language, and nuances of a new place. The city’s vibrant culture is alive with music, laughter, and a spirit of community that felt like a welcome invitation to connect with people, even when words were limited. Rather than relying on a shared vocabulary, people there would often smile or give a friendly nod, which made communicating feel natural and inclusive. Take this story for example…as I arrived in the train station after enduring the two hour flight at 4:00AM I was struggling to find my correct train. Behind my tired eyes, adorned with purple rings, courtesy of my lack of sleep, my brain was performing in overdrive. As I anxiously looked around from sign to sign, thumbs tapping my phone screen furiously looking for directions, I began to feel anxious in this new country—where once again, I did not speak the native language. Not only did I not speak very much Spanish, I certainly was unfamiliar with any Catalan, so I started to lose hope, not knowing where to go or how to ask for help…in any language. The friendly woman who was on her way to a train herself stopped me from spiraling, as she could sense my uncertainty. In her oversized, Barbie pink raincoat, she tapped me on my shoulder with a soft, loving hand, asking “Excuse me, can I help you?” Her English was clear and calming, just frosted with a warm Spanish accent, indicating to me that English wasn’t her native tongue; which made the interaction all the sweeter. The kind woman smiled at me, and shared a giggle as I admitted to her that I was indeed panicking before she showed up like a guardian angel, leading me to my correct platform. Though she had to likely remove herself from her comfort zone, speaking to me in my native language instead of hers, she was able to gift me a sense of calm, and shared in the silliness of the situation with me instead of shrouding me in a blanket of embarrassment or guilt. Being in a place where I didn’t fully know the language could have been daunting, but Barcelona showed me that a smile or laugh can create a bridge just as strong as any word. Engaging in this way helped me understand that there’s no need to be afraid of visiting a country where you might feel out of place initially. You’re always more connected than you think. The culture in Barcelona, warm and expressive, taught me that genuine curiosity and kindness open doors that language barriers might otherwise close.
"One of the most essential ways of saying 'I love you' is by careful listening—listening with 'the ear of the heart.'”
Rome further deepened my understanding of body language as a powerful means of communication. The Italian way of life is characterized by warmth and expressiveness, which put me at ease even when my Italian vocabulary faltered. Hand gestures, raised eyebrows, and nods became my main form of communication, and I found them surprisingly effective. While trying to speak in Italian to a friendly-faced barista in a cafe I fumbled over my words, unsure of how to order the mouth-watering, powdered sugar covered croissant or “cornetto” sitting in the finger-print covered glass case. I tried to spit out words like “vorrei” to explain how “I’d like” the croissant and a chocolate cappuccino written on the menu board in bright pink chalk marker, yet everything came out jumbled as the barista twisted this lips in a confused manner, below his thick mustache. After three to seven failed attempts to order in the barista's native tongue I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head in blushed embarrassment, as I restored to simply pointing to items I so longed to devour and the barista smiled nodding his head in both understanding and approval. I began to understand that gestures can say as much as spoken words, especially when they are accompanied by patience and understanding. Rome taught me that no traveler should fear being in a place where they don’t know the language. When I was patient with myself and others, interactions were smoother, and people were more than willing to help. I often relied on translation apps, and the locals’ patience with me as I stumbled through sentences reminded me that people tend to be understanding when they see effort and openness. For anyone hesitant to visit a country for fear of not understanding the language, Rome showed me that openness and a willingness to adapt are often all that’s needed.
“None of us is exactly like anyone else, but one thing we have in common is our humanity, our very natural, understandable desire to know that at least somebody, onebody, thinks there’s something special about us, something worth caring about.”
In Paris, I realized that the most profound connections often happen in silence. Sitting at a café or wandering through an art museum, I found myself connected to the people around me, even if we didn’t share a common language. Art and food are forms of communication in themselves, and in Paris, I saw how universally these things bring people together. As I marveled at the statue of Venus, laughing in disbelief, I called my mom discreetly in hopes of letting her share in my excitement at seeing our shared favorite piece of art. I softly spoke to her over a quick FaceTime explaining how this call was the second best thing to her actually being in The Louvre with me. Out of the corner of my eye I notice a girl about my age doing the very same thing I was—calling a family member to share in the marvel of this statue. Though she spoke in swift, soft French, we are so alike in that moment. Despite any differences we may have when looking at our lives a little more closely, we could not have been any more alike while making our respective phone calls. We share no more than a glance with one another, both acknowledging and appreciating the individual interactions. Without words we knew that the Venus sculpture was a shared love, and the people in which we shared this love with were people we wish could see the beauty of the armless statue in person alongside us. Some things have no need to be spoken aloud. Sometimes the shared interest, the shared appreciation, enjoyment, and love are enough— sometimes even more meaningful than a long conversation. Paris reminded me that there’s no need to fear being unable to communicate verbally. Some of my most memorable connections were made over a shared admiration for a painting or a mutual smile across the table in a bustling café. Love—whether for art, food, or people—is a universal language that transcends words, and Paris showed me how rich an experience can be when I simply open myself to what’s around me.
"Listening is where love begins: listening to ourselves and then to our neighbors."
Looking back on my travels through Barcelona, Rome, and Paris, I see how each place uniquely deepened my understanding of communication and connection. In Barcelona, the kindness of a stranger reminded me that even in moments of panic, there is always someone willing to help. In Rome, gestures and patience became their own language, showing me how effort and openness often matter more than words. And in Paris, shared experiences in silence taught me that profound connections often transcend speech, finding their strength in the simple joy of being present. These moments taught me to approach travel—and life—with a greater sense of humility and openness. They reminded me that fear of unfamiliar languages or cultures should never be a barrier to exploration. Instead, it is in those gaps between understanding that we find the most profound opportunities for connection and growth. Every interaction, whether with a stranger in a train station or a fellow art admirer in a museum, holds the potential to bridge divides, spark joy, and foster mutual respect. Reflecting on these lessons, I realize how travel has transformed me. Each city left me a little more comfortable with the unknown, a little more curious about the world, and a lot more trusting in the kindness of strangers. In those small yet powerful moments of connection, I learned that love is a universal language spoken not just through words but through shared laughter, patience, and respect.
Throughout my time abroad, I often thought about Fred Rogers and his belief in the power of being fully present with others. Even when communication felt non-linear or uncertain, I found that being present—really listening, observing, and sharing a moment— was enough. Though I was far from home, I never felt alone. In so many places and in so many ways, I felt loved, cared for, and understood. Strangers became friends through small gestures, and unfamiliar places felt like home simply because kindness transcended any language barrier. As I continue to explore new places and meet new people, I carry with me the understanding that every moment of openness holds the potential to turn strangers into allies and unfamiliar places into unforgettable experiences. In the end, it’s not fluency or perfect communication that defines connection—it’s the willingness to listen, to laugh, and to love in a way that transcends all barriers.
Your financial support of the Institute helps us expand our initiatives and resources so that educators and children's helpers can continue to learn and grow from Fred Rogers' legacy. Thank you!