Siena, Tuscany. I searched these words dozens of times on Google, trying to build an image of the place where I hoped my future might begin again. I was staring at the pictures, convincing myself that this place could hold a safe future for me.
It is me, Sara Awad, a writer and student who survived two years of war in Gaza. Survival itself felt impossible. There were moments when I was certain no one would live through what was happening around us. And yet, I did.
I am alive.
Now I live a new life in Siena, Italy, a place where peace is not an illusion, where I can walk freely, where the silence does not frighten me. A place where safety is no longer a question.
I was granted a scholarship through the IUPALS program (Italian Universities for Palestinian Students) to pursue my bachelor’s degree in Languages and Translation at Università per Stranieri di Siena. The opportunity arrived at a moment when doors elsewhere seemed firmly closed. When uncertainty defined everything, this program offered something rare: a future I could step into.
But this is not simply a new start. It feels like a rebirth.
Here in Tuscany, I am beginning everything again from zero: a new language, unfamiliar faces, streets that do not yet recognize my footsteps. I am building a life from fragments. And I am doing it alone. Starting over could be hard for any person, but it would be devastating for a war survivor.
“I have no problem starting my education over,” I told my family in Gaza. I said it many times, repeating it to myself as much as to them, believing that nothing—not even the war—could break my determination.
I arrived in Siena, Tuscany, on December 15, two months ago, ready to begin my scholarship journey. My evacuation from Gaza to Italy was devastating, both physically and mentally. I left Gaza with nothing but my phone and essential documents, leaving behind my entire family.
It was my choice to leave, but that does not mean there is no home to return to.
And yet, how can anyone erase two years of suffering in a single day? How can life feel so smooth and peaceful in one night, while my people in Gaza endure daily struggles to survive through the same two years?
My first impression of Tuscany was confusing, even overwhelming. I experienced what I can only call the shock of peace. I wondered how people could feel so safe, why everyone moved with such calm, why it was possible to walk outside until midnight without fear.
Millions of questions filled my mind, and they continue to appear in the smallest everyday moments. Transportation, food, cash flow, the education system, health care: the list of basic necessities that are missing in Gaza seems endless. Simple “normal” things that most people take for granted are now privileges for Palestinians there. Feeling safe, having enough to eat, affording even one basic need: these are luxuries that many in Gaza cannot access.
I wake up every day promising myself to focus on my new start and try to put everything together. Yet, by the end of the day, my thoughts often return to how impossible it feels to leave the past behind—to continue as if nothing happened. Even so, I am so determined to learn the new language, make new friends and reconnect with my old self again. These things push me to become more confident in who I am, especially alone.
‘Tuscany calls on Italy to recognize Palestinian State’: this article on The Florentine was published recently. When I read the headline, I felt so safe and proud to be in such an amazing city. Watching people take the time to march, raise awareness about my country’s situation, amplify my people’s voices and call for action made me realize there are still good people in this world. I was starting to lose that belief, but Italians reminded me not to.
Writing in The Florentine makes me feel truly privileged. Siena and Florence—these two cities—have given me a sense of what normalcy feels like after two full years of fear.
I am happy, yet sad. I am grateful, yet afraid, I am privileged, yet overwhelmed.
I need my family with me to complete the missing pieces inside my heart, I need to eat, talk and laugh with them. I need them to see the wonderful places in Tuscany, to know again how life must look like, away from war and death.
I am starting over, but at least I have the opportunity to start. War taught me to be grateful even for the dark times, to have faith that everything will pass. No matter when, it will pass.
I now have a new life in Tuscany. I pray that I can stay here and rebuild my future, to give my future family the best life possible, and to never experience war again.
