So, I've been in Roma for a couple of days now. My feet are tired, but my mind is refreshed. My legs ache and my heart is racing. It feels like home to me. I can't believe I haven't been here for more than 10 years...still, my feet seem to know the way to all my favorite places in this, the eternal city.
I went to the market today to buy some of the most beautiful fruits and veggies. The words that came out, I'm afraid, were a weird mix of French, Spanish, and Italian. Three countries in three weeks has done a number on my language skills. When the guy at the veggie stand told me the price, I said something like "that's all?" in Italian. He said "It would cost much more in France, right?" The pizza man asked me "Are you from Spain?" Oh well, by the end of the week, I guess I'll be more practiced. Until then, gestures work great.
I'm staying in a flat of a young film maker. She's very hospitable and almost never here, so I feel like I've got my own place, right by Piazza Barbrini. I found this place through airbnb, which I recommend to anyone who wants a more homey experience than you can get in a hotel. I'm cooking and sitting out on the terrace painting and writing until the sun comes around then it's time to move into the dark where it's cooler to wait out the heat of the day and rest. Evenings are spent taking a passeggiata, a little stroll, around to this piazza or that, getting a gelato, or just sitting in the park, people watching.
This Italian life suits me. I love the rhythm of the days, the feel of the language on my tongue, the spicy smell of the tomatoes with fresh basil, the color of the sky at night, which really is "mid-night blue". The sound of police sirens and motorinos and church bells and neighbors shouting "Buon giorno" all blend to create this melodious cacophony which says I could only be in Roma.
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