My first full week in Cagli, Italy has beckoned a creative pause.  I thought I rocked in a big and hard way, but seeing the essence of this new place has me thinking otherwise.

Firstly, the wine (vino) in this country is phenomenal, which probably explains why they drink it like water here.  Even the Italian equivalent of our "Two Buck Chuck" ($2 wine only purchased at Trader Joes) would make for a highly tasty treat at a formal dinner in America.  Drinking wine has been my favorite activity since I arrived over a week ago.  Not the - "Let's get pissy and chug" type of wine drinking... but the true savoring of a trade not often seen in the progressive but not city I call my home, Atlanta.

The food was something I expected to be a given for me, a true lover of all things Italian.  However, albeit the fault of my mother who prepared my meals for the first 15 years of my life, or just a palette I have acquired over the years, the lack of seasoning used in traditional Italian dishes leave me slightly underwhelmed. The natural taste of the handmade noodles and bread, and the freshness of the farm-grown vegetables certainly incites the desire to enjoy the meals, but I find myself over compensating the lack of taste with tablespoons of parmesan cheese.  Salt use to be highly taxed in this town, so they didn't purchase it.  Though the salt is no longer highly taxed - tradition rings louder.  They go hard... or not at all.

Mrs. Anderson is a 91 year old Italian woman who met and married her American husband during World War II.  How do I know this you ask?  Well, my group and I were wandering the streets of Cagli chatting (in English) about what to do for the evening, and an older woman and her caretaker (which we found out later) spoke to us from about 30ft up, they were hanging off of their balcony.  After several poorly dictated Italian exchanges on our part, they invited us up.  We spent the next hour talking to Cleo Anderson and Carla the caretaker about where we were from, love and relationships, and of course, Cagli.  Though a bit senile, Cleo explained to us, amidst a few tears, that she is a brand new widow (her husband died four days ago) and she has a son that lives in Colorado (along with is wife - who is from Arizona).  Carla emphasized how stupid and patsi (crazy) Italian and American men are, and to be careful at all times. 

Needless to say, my week has been full of adventure, insights and learning. While I look forward to indulging in my Chai Tea Latte when I return home from Italy... I am savoring every day spent in this Italian fresco as if it's my last.

On my 9 hour flight to Italy, I was seated by the window - beside a middle aged Italian couple.  They spoke no English, so I had no one to communicate with. I figured, for purposes of keepsake only, I would take note of what I would say, had I had an English speaking individual to express my sentiments.  These thoughts are as follows:

• 32A where are you? Please be beside the bathroom... I just drank 24oz of water.  Niiiice, by the bathroom.  Uh -oh, i'm by the window... my seatmates are going to hate me.
• I knew I should not have just eaten half of the sandwich from Panera - God only knows what I will be served at the mile-high cafe. Eating in moderation totally backfired this time.
• Roastbeef, and tortelinni, and a ham sandwich... hmmm, ok.  When on the way to Rome....
• Would I be wrong to give the 2 -year old bambino behind me a dirty look for finding pleasure in kicking my seat back?
• God help me, i'm about to get really rude.
• 67 rows on the plane, and my row is the one row with technical difficulties.  No movies? Are you serious...
• Man - I bet that dude is enjoying the Pursuit of Happyness.  Dammit.
• Is this really Diet Coke? OMG, I'm in love.
• Sweet, my seat mates are taking a potty break, here's my moment.
• And there goes my laptop battery - at least that means i'm 3 hours into my  flight.
• Mmmmh, more Diet Coke.
• [Watching the Skymap] - Casablana, nice.  Wonder why I never thought to watch that movie?
• Oh wow, someone is stuck in the bathroom.  That sucks.  I wonder if they know to pull when exiting?  Maybe I should tell them.
• 4 hours and 53 minutes to go, nap time.  Hope I wake up for sunrise, I promised to take pictures.
• Maybe I should wait for the nap, and go back to studying my Italian... nope... naptime wins.
• Odd, something jolted me out of my sleep - but being on a plane with hundreds of people, I suppose that's to be expected.  Ahh - sunrise.  Hellooooo Bay of Biscay.
• 56 minutes til touchdown... progress is good.
• Hello Rome.  Piachere.