Today was the first day I woke up and missed living in Italy. I mean, yes I have missed certain little things now and then, but right now…man I just,
I just want to walk out my door onto the tiny cobblestone road, not using the sidewalks because no one uses that narrow pointless pavement coated with dog shit. I want to shyly walk past the arts and music school that has crowds of italian students congregating outside before classes begin and imagine that all of the cute artsy boys are noticing me.
Hold my breath as I walk past the cyan blue dumpster, step to the right to avoid that one wobbling cobblestone. Look left, right quickly to make an easy pass through the “intersection” Move out of the way for the taxi that is probably taking some hungover-faced american student home after a late night at the discoteca.
Head to my favorite little bar to get a macchiato, and no that doesn’t mean the caramel drink like they have at starbucks. I mean a shot of fantastic Italian espresso with a little bit of steamed milk. Just walk right up to the bar and order. No questions about 2% or skim, or whether I want room for cream or whipped cream or whatever other shit. Simple, easy.
Sit, eavesdrop on some italian conversations, which I can make out only a sentence or two. I’d mostly just people watch; notice that they wear scarfs even when its 65 degrees outside, and how friendly everyone seems to be with each other.
I miss starting my day like that. I can’t walk anywhere really here, not like I could in Italy. Drop by the market to pick up some fresh tomatoes for dinner, swing into a boutique to buy some handmade jewelry for a mothers day present, sit along the river and read a book. Everywhere here in America is so goddamn spaced out like we need more oxygen to fill our lungs.