The arancini before me were too much to handle. Perhaps it was the long train ride that brought me to them or the plane ride about to take me away from them. But these oversize deep-fried rice balls - which always satisfy the taste buds - were overwhelmingly large and my appetite said 'no thanks'.
The week in Sicily wasn't a bad way to leave Italy after my yearlong life there.
Palermo was absolutely beautiful that day. Hot, yet perfect. Salvo and I were only there for the day before our flight back to Rome, where I would pack my bags, then find myself in Ohio the next day.
The reality of packing up became, well, reality very quickly. But that was all 7 weeks ago. And even though seven weeks seems like seven years, I'll always have this:
Riding on the scooter with the Colosseum to my right and Circo Massimo ahead. Enjoying the view of Rome from a rooftop on the Via Veneto, from St. Peter's Dome, from the Pincio Hill, from the Gianicolense, and more. Swimming in the Meditteranean off the many coasts of Italy. The multiple trips to Galleria Borghese to have Caravaggio paintings and Bernini sculptures looming over me. Riding my bike to and from work and late at night in the quiet streets. The noisy tram outside my window that woke me up in the morning and put me to bed at night. The cappuccini in the morning. The delicious pizzeria (well, there are many) near Piazza Navona. Train rides through the countryside to small medieval towns. Tutoring English to the adorable Italian family. The few months I volunteered in Torre Argentina. Showing my Brother and Trish around the city. Showing high schoolers around the city. Seeing great concerts and musicians in the street. Learning the language. (I cannot stop!)
OK, just stop.
So leaving Sicily, leaving Rome, is never easy for me. But after seven weeks, I have the memories and live off of this: Alla Prossima Italia! Until next time!
(I would really love to enjoy those arancini right now.)
Friday, October 3, 2008
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