a few of my favorite things.

It's been a marathon of sightseeing and my bruises, scrapes bug bites and blisters are the physical signs of my emotional wear. Tired as i may be my mind wont let me fall asleep until past midnight and the heat will wake me at 8:00am ...sharp. I can't help but feel unsettled with time passing, as if my worry towards it will somehow change its linear travels. I'm constantly towards between wanting it to slow down and wanting it to hurry past, rarely can I simply sit in it and respect its speed. It's those moment's though that I think I will cherish the greatest. The time when I think to myself " there is no where in the world I would rather be than right here, right now". The places this feeling invites himself to are never those I expect, but ones that I wont forget. The other day I woke from a nap and realized I only had 3 euro to spend on dinner, this number made the ache in my stomach a combination of hunger and nerves, needs and reality. As they battled internally I collected my purse and shoes in order to figure out my current situation. I walked around the block to a shop I remember advertising for cheap sandwiches. Freshly sliced on a hunk of crusty bread was salami, mozzarella, and artichoke creating a meal that was close to perfection. I sat on the curb in front of the small shop, in between vespa's and in full content ate my dinner with a tall cold peroni. The day was still holding onto it's light so i decided to a walk around the neighbourhood...my neighbourhood. But walking in Roma is never mundane. To stumble onto a fountain the size of a small house, or to fall into one of the many basiclli'a makes all walks adventures and every corner a discovery. Adventure is the word for today, I've decided. I'm heading to the Capuchin Crypt. A group of rooms beneath a church that is used it's bone's of its past priests as art throughout the six rooms. A strange, and dark side of me can't help but see it. If I needed another lure to the morbid cite (which I don't) the name of the monks is where the name of my favorite drink was created, Cappuccino. Apparently the prefect cappuccino matches the monk's brown robes. All this talk of espresso makes me excited for yet another perfect moment. I've made a habit of going to the same tiny espresso bar nearly every morning. "Ciao bella" the over weight and already sweating man will greet me. (I can't imagine ever getting use to being called beautiful at least five times a day.) The Ciao I reply with started from a tiny whisper and now accompanies a casual smile. "un caffè ?" I ask with yet another side smile, I 've learned that a genuine one translated in all languages. I set the euro on the counter and he points me to a table on the street,and soon follows with the tiny mug. "Grazie, grazie" If he only knew how much I truly want to thank him for this, yet the nonchalant attitude of all Italians flows over into a casual "prego" and its the best thing I've heard all day.