Going Back

It's been an interesting experience being in Rome long enough to go to places more than one time.  In some cases the going back experience has been comprable, like the sandwhich I ate at Aristocampo.  Ariel discovered it at first by the aroma, but what really lured him in was Pink Floyd; they were rocking The Wall.  He raved about his porcini panino for a couple of days, and then he took me there.  I had a wonderful tuna and fresh mozzerella panino.  Like Ariel, I daydreamed about that panino for days, and then I had another; it was just as warm and crunchy and oozy and delicious as the first sandwich I'd had at Aristocampo.

However, the first time I went to the produce market near our apartment, I felt like I had just barely passed a major exam.  Ana and I were walking by and I decided to pop in to get some fruit for breakfast; it was busy.  People were shopping hard, the produce guy was checking out multiple people at once, and other guys were filling orders for local restaurants.  I felt like I was shopping at Frank's in Pike Place market, except that everyone was speaking Italian.  As I approached the entrance I felt like I was about to step into a busy street with no crosswalk or signal; I went in.  I said buon giorno to the produce guy, and silently began gathering fruit.  I asked the guy for strawberries, and then struggled to get my money out to pay him. It was blazing hot, and I managed my way through a market transcation with two words.  The other word I knew was grazie.  For my third day in Rome, it felt like a valliant effort.


It took me awhile to want to go back to that store.  A few weeks later we had a thumderstorm, so the city was cool and there was still some residual drizzle in the air.  I walked in and there was just one other customer.  I said buon giorno to the produce guy, and he replied in a way that made me feel welcome in his store.  I gathered the items I needed as I thought of them.  "Cucumber, baby lettuce, no romaine would be better, no the red leaf looks the best," I thought to myself - as I find i do in Italy because I am having way fewer conversations here than I have in America.

I motioned to a guy about which bag I should use for my lettuce; he helped my bag it.  The owner motioned for me to set down my purchase.  "Grazie," I said.  As I was finishing up, I saw they had soda in the case!  I had just bought popcorn from the natural food store, and imagined how great the soda would taste with the popcorn.  "To go with my popcorn," I told the guy as I set down two Fantas for Ariel and two Cokes for me. He smiled at me as if he could read my thoughts.

When it came time to pay, my total was 10,70, but I only had 15,00 with not enough change to equal the cents part of the total.  They are big on change here, meaning: they always want you to have it, but rarely want to give it.  He said, "you have no change?" I said, "no," as I looked back into my almost-empty coin purse.  He told me, "you bring 70 cents tomorrow." I was stunned at the man's kindness towards me. I wondered, "can I do that? Can I come back tomorrow?"  Then I thought, "of course I can come back tomorrow.  I will because that man just made me feel good by including me in his community," a feeling that has been rare in Rome because it is hard to connect with people when we don't share the same language.  I left the produce market with my shoulders a lot wider, and my heart a lot lighter.  It was a morsel of proof: living the good life truly means getting to bask in the small moments that make life good.

Other places I want to visit again soon:

Forno La Renella for the roasted tomato, green olive, oregano and olive oil focaccia.  They also had a coconut macaroon I loved.

After being in Rome a few weeks, we were craving Asian flavors.  We decided to follow the advice of an international student who gave Ci-Lin a rave review.  We began with the hot and sour soup, which tasted incredibly light compared to the hot and sour soup commonly served in the states.  We loved the pan-fried dumplings.  Each one had a tiny meaball tucked inside; they were delectable little bites.  The bamboo paired with chicken and mushrooms appeared to be hand-cut in a way that neither of us had ever seen.  As we left the restaurant that evening, the chef and the waitress graciously waved goodbye.  We loved Ci-Lin's.  

We have nine more days in Rome, and we look forward to discovering more places that make us want to go back.