A Day in Rome
The streets are filled with an aroma of freshly baked filone di renell sourdough bread. Italian, Spanish and Portuguese voices I assume, echo the narrow curved streets of Rome and the smooth ice-cold pistachio gelato sweetens every inch of my mouth.
When I was young, I watched “When in Rome” until my eyes bled of tiredness. The movie invited me in, making me long to jump out of the way for Vespas whizzing by and throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain. Now, I am less naive and more aware of Rome’s famous pickpockets and their soft, fast, sneaky hands. As I step into the streets of Rome, I embrace the beauty and prepare for the ugly.
“Do you know where the Trevi Fountain is?” asks a man with black shades and a black dress shirt. Minutes before, he watched and followed me. Now, he stands tall with only inches between us and I am disgusted by his musty, pesto-garlic breath. I pretend to not understand him and he suddenly disappears.
Once I arrive at the Trevi Fountain, a man drenched in sweat asks to use my camera and take my picture. I then look down at my camera, concerned it might be the last time I will see my Canon Rebel S hanging around my neck.
I smile and walk away and finally have a chance to enjoy this famous fountain. My laugh lines become deeper and deeper with pure happiness. I take endless pictures and capture the light glistening off of the water.
As I continue on my way, I witness an Italian woman standing outside her balcony, finding tranquility in an otherwise bustling area. She reminds me to enjoy the moment and take in the vibrant scenery that surrounds me.
I end my day looking over the Spanish Steps and forget about the small obstacles along the way.
