I've been in Italy for the past month, and I cannot begin to recap the adventures I've had there. I wish I would have brought my computer so I could have blogged overseas, but we traveled from city to city and I didn't want to carry any extra luggage.
The trip effected me in a way I cannot describe. I climbed the Alps and its beauty restored my faith in the goodness of the world.
The people with whom I traveled, once acquaintances, soon became my close friends within days.
In a monastery, I got drunk for the first time and showed the nuns my underwear.
I racked up 80 euro bar tab (about $150) with my friends and ran through the streets of Rome with a belly full of cocktails to make the curfew at the monastery.
I stood in St. Peter's Basilica and wept.
I learned I speak perfect French when I'm drunk. Resume material??
I got sick of hearing Italians say, "Americani." Am I that obviously American? I can't be. I almost didn't make it through Italian customs because the officer thought I was Italian, not American.
The night before we left, I wept for hours. In the bar. In the befriended's shopkeeper's store. In my friends' arms.
I miss Italy.