Greetings from Paradise!

Always remember that 1 drink in the air is equal to 3 on the ground. I learned this at 31,000 feet on my 8.5 hour flight from Toronto to Rome while asking Laura if the lights were changing color on their own or if it was just me. It wasn't just me, for the record.

 After twenty four hours of travel, and some legitimate pre-journey sickness, I found myself walking through the arrivals gate at Rome’s international airport. As soon as I stepped from the aircraft, off the ramp, and onto the pavement of the secured area, I immediately felt the humidity radiating from the hot, new land beneath my feet. Even though we crammed ourselves onto a transport bus which quickly escorted us to the terminal, the arrivals gate itself was surprisingly empty for such a magnificently large airport. One glance around proved what we had believed all along- every person and everything within our sightlines was beautiful, absolutely stunning. From the charming gentleman walking about in 3 piece suits, to young men strolling through or working within the airport, to the beautiful Italian women who are so very distinct and well carried- Italy was already a dream come true.

I made my first purchases while speaking Italian, much to the delight of the woman behind the counter at the airport. The cafe cream cappuccino was like a thick, frothy delight travelling over my lips adorned with real whip cream and tiny fragments of chocolate powder. All of this brought to my senses by an express cafe; I can only imagine what I will taste in specialty coffee shops.

I had heard fantastically elaborate warnings of pick-pocketers and dishonest folk (of which I have yet to experience), but very little about the charming Italian gentlemen who kiss your hand and ask your name (while looking DIRECTLY into your EYES) upon their first meeting with you. They appreciate every inch of a woman with only their eyes before even saying “Ciao”.  I’ve been told that this is because Europeans really understand how to enjoy life and “Il dolche far niente” which is “the sweetness of doing nothing” so that when “something” arrives, they can give thanks to it in the most wonderful ways.

Once we touched down in Venice, I stepped into more glorious heat while a lovely man who would be driving us from Venice to Conegliano offered to take my luggage straight away, with a smile. Canadian boys, take note. We drove through the winding roads of Conegliano, through an open market and up the narrowest little alley towards the Mecca that we would call home for the next month. The 15^th century restored ex convent of Saint Francesco is ours, complete with chirping crickets and cuckoo birds, grape vines, and a gated entrance. The courtyard is adorned with cobblestones and a marble endowed well at the center.

The streets of Conegliano are everything I could have imagined but better. While walking, you wonder what it must be like to have the balcony of your home overlooking the local bars and shops and the busy streets of the market. From gelato shops to small boutiques, everything has character, Italian character. 

We followed a serendipitously acquired Croatian business administration graduate student, who quickly led us through the rustic streets of Conegliano and into the most charming little pizzeria where we drank bubbly champagnes, wines, and beers over various tinges of pizza followed by tiramisu and mousse desserts.

Upon leaving the pizzeria, I glided through the streets toward home, stopping occasionally to converse with the locals and practice my Italian. The Italians are very appreciative when you communicate with them in their language (even if you can’t speak it) and so they offer their brightest smiles to someone speaking even at an introductory level. I’m making an effort to speak in as much Italian as I can, everywhere I go, and so far the response of the Italian people has been overwhelming. My only stupor comes when they assume I’m completely fluent and find myself lost for a moment, but one can usually place themselves back on track with a light smile and a laugh.

My mind is so filled with thoughts that it’s difficult to crunch out the text as quickly as it is running through my newly plasticised brain. Keep in mind I’m writing this entry in the quiet hallway of the convent, overlooking the Piazza below me. I want to remember how this feels for the rest of my life. In fact, I never want to leave it so that I can ALWAYS feel this cultured and emotionally aroused, so you can all hop a flight and come see me ;)

Time to let the crickets chirp me to sleep.

Ciao!