Italy
I want to go to Italy.
It's been the top of my list since I went there, for probably less that 24 hours, in 2008.
Barely crossing the boarder into Italy, was a revelation for me, I'd always wanted to go and as a child had fantasized about it, even though it wasn't the top most desired destination of my 'olden day' fashion clad childish mind.
I remember the day we crossed into Italy very clearly; We had been staying in a town on the beach a few kilometers from Nice in France.
My day was not going well, it was raining and our little groups attitude definitely reflected the weather. I sat on our train as it curled around the steep rocky hills that houses and buildings cling to, before the land plunges into the sea; The train tracks nearly the only thing in between, listening to my new favorite artist on my ipod: Jason Mraz.
The view out one side of the train, a birds view into houses and rooms, terraces and veranda's entwined with bougainvillea and the hazy blue of the sky above; and out the other side that deep blue of the sea, washed in the sunlight peaking through the weeks of rain.
We stopped and changed trains.. and this is the part I remember so vividly, we were in the train station, ceiling soaring high above, big industrial clocks on each end of the hall telling us of the military time ticking away and I turned from whatever line we were waiting in and looked out of these big wooden double doors that had been thrown open to the sunshine, and suddenly a realization hit me and I knew I was in Italy.
The street leading away from that door was cobble stone and there were big terra cotta pots with brilliant flowers spilling out of them, the smell of moped exhaust wafted in with the sweet sunny scent of those flowers, while dark tanned and brilliantly beautiful people leaned against the door jam, talking and waiting. Cigarette smoke drifting around them like a halo.
And suddenly, I couldn't stop smiling. Italy. I suppose it's infectious.
That day was probably one of the best from that trip. We had a great hotel room with high ceilings and a tiny balcony that looked out over the busy street and just beyond to the sea.
We walked around the tiny town of San Remo and bought our first true Italian pizza along with several helpings of gelato. And it was just how I imagined it, narrow streets packed with beautiful people full of humor and history; the square was full of the exhaust of small cars and mopeds while old men watched the days happenings from small wooden chairs on the sidewalks.
I know I must have looked like a stupid American with that huge grin on my face. But I couldntve wiped it off if you'd paid me. And I didn't regret it one tiny jot.
I guess it's this memory, that pulls me back, that grabs my attention, even in the florescent light of Wal-Mart as my eyes drift over a calendar display advertising Pictures of Tuscany for 12 months in your home for just $4.99. It still ignites something in me and the excitement of going back pulls at me. Almost like pulling me home.
It's on my list. In fact it's nearing the top. Of course, there are so many things that reach out to stop me, money and relationships, language and what would I do there? But somehow, the need to go, still over throws all those doubting voices. I mean, come on. Look at that!
It's been the top of my list since I went there, for probably less that 24 hours, in 2008.
Barely crossing the boarder into Italy, was a revelation for me, I'd always wanted to go and as a child had fantasized about it, even though it wasn't the top most desired destination of my 'olden day' fashion clad childish mind.
I remember the day we crossed into Italy very clearly; We had been staying in a town on the beach a few kilometers from Nice in France.
My day was not going well, it was raining and our little groups attitude definitely reflected the weather. I sat on our train as it curled around the steep rocky hills that houses and buildings cling to, before the land plunges into the sea; The train tracks nearly the only thing in between, listening to my new favorite artist on my ipod: Jason Mraz.
The view out one side of the train, a birds view into houses and rooms, terraces and veranda's entwined with bougainvillea and the hazy blue of the sky above; and out the other side that deep blue of the sea, washed in the sunlight peaking through the weeks of rain.
We stopped and changed trains.. and this is the part I remember so vividly, we were in the train station, ceiling soaring high above, big industrial clocks on each end of the hall telling us of the military time ticking away and I turned from whatever line we were waiting in and looked out of these big wooden double doors that had been thrown open to the sunshine, and suddenly a realization hit me and I knew I was in Italy.
The street leading away from that door was cobble stone and there were big terra cotta pots with brilliant flowers spilling out of them, the smell of moped exhaust wafted in with the sweet sunny scent of those flowers, while dark tanned and brilliantly beautiful people leaned against the door jam, talking and waiting. Cigarette smoke drifting around them like a halo.
And suddenly, I couldn't stop smiling. Italy. I suppose it's infectious.
That day was probably one of the best from that trip. We had a great hotel room with high ceilings and a tiny balcony that looked out over the busy street and just beyond to the sea.
We walked around the tiny town of San Remo and bought our first true Italian pizza along with several helpings of gelato. And it was just how I imagined it, narrow streets packed with beautiful people full of humor and history; the square was full of the exhaust of small cars and mopeds while old men watched the days happenings from small wooden chairs on the sidewalks.
I know I must have looked like a stupid American with that huge grin on my face. But I couldntve wiped it off if you'd paid me. And I didn't regret it one tiny jot.
I guess it's this memory, that pulls me back, that grabs my attention, even in the florescent light of Wal-Mart as my eyes drift over a calendar display advertising Pictures of Tuscany for 12 months in your home for just $4.99. It still ignites something in me and the excitement of going back pulls at me. Almost like pulling me home.
It's on my list. In fact it's nearing the top. Of course, there are so many things that reach out to stop me, money and relationships, language and what would I do there? But somehow, the need to go, still over throws all those doubting voices. I mean, come on. Look at that!
