Our time in Italy, and in Europe, is quickly coming to an end. After weeks of travel, picnic dinners, and a few questionable hotel rooms, we will soon be heading back to the states.
I thought a part of me would be excited to return home by this point. A small part, but nonetheless, a part. While yes, I am excited to return to the kitchen, and yes, I am excited to shower in a space large enough to shave my legs, those factors are very minuscule. The truth is, I’m crushed that this is our last week here.
Since Venice, we’ve lounged with the seagulls in the Cinque Terre, marveled over one of a kind artworks in Florence, and bathed in the Tuscan sun in Siena.
I’ve fallen for Italy, and I’ve fallen hard. Where else besides Italy is it totally acceptable to indulge in a scoop of Gelato before 10:00 a.m? And why stop at just one scoop in the morning? No one will look down on you for a second scoop at night. No where else can you drink some of the world’s best wine for just mere euros, and don’t even get me started on the food. I think that I was loosing some weight before we got to Italy, but I’m pretty positive that I’ve put it all back on since we got here. I really have no shame in that though.
We will end our trip with a pilgrimage, of sorts, to Assisi, a visit to a sleepy and Medieval town, and go out with a bang in wild and crazy Roma. We will return to Boston at the end of the month, sad, tired, and probably a little fatter than when we left.