Getting over Italy

My romance with Italy was love at first sight. Fresh, exotic, decadent views of the Mediterranean acted as my introduction to this new world. Deep blue water with sun sparkling on every cresting wave, yachts reflecting bright-white in contrast with the color of the ocean. I watched from the train as the coast rolled up from the shore in lazy hills, and I knew that I had fallen hard. How could I resist the innumerable charms of this country? The stunning landscape, food and wine worth dreaming about, and not to mention the generous and kind-spirited people who would look out for me during my stay.

But I knew it would be a short-lived affair; a romance with a built in expiration date. I did my best to prepare myself for my transition back to life in Connecticut, and at least initially I did fairly well readjusting. But now the reality of all I witnessed and experienced in Italy is settling in on me and I can't help but make comparisons to my life now. Like with any human relationship, after it's over, we all tend to idealize what it was. I find myself at the grocery store, stopping at the magazine rack and flipping longingly through Italian cooking magazines hoping to find a photo of somewhere I've been. And I reminisce. A lot. But Italy and I shared something that people here can't always relate to, that or they just get sick of hearing about. They sigh, and roll their eyes when I launch into another story that starts, "When I was in Rome..." I can tell that they're all thinking, "Why doesn't she just get over it already?"

But maybe I'm not ready to move on! Maybe Italy and I shared something real. I find myself wondering if we could make it work. The sound of church bells floating through the air, evening strolls through the side streets of Rome, sharing a smile over an espresso...

On the other hand, perhaps what I need is a rebound adventure to take my mind off Italy. I can hear France calling my name... or is it Belgium? Germany, Switzerland, the UK... I've realized that, really, I could be happy anywhere. It's simply a matter of choosing to be so. But for the moments when that decision is difficult to commit to, I'll always have Italy.