July 10th - Leaving already?!

A few friends and I recently discovered a basement pizzeria near the convent, run by a high-energy, suntanned, middle-aged man who loves music. We were enjoying pizza and pasta there two nights ago when “Hotel California” came over the speakers, much to our delight. When he saw our reaction, he turned up the volume to fill the entire little restaurant, we being the only customers at the early hour of 8:00. Whenever he passed the table he played air guitar and sang along – I have to give him credit for knowing most of the words, even if they came out in a very thick Italian accent.

The picture above is the pizza margherita I ordered there. I swear, I'm never having Papa John's again.

I was met with a rude awakening yesterday when I found out I would have to leave Italy earlier than expected. The trains didn’t run early enough in the morning for me to make the airport in time for my flight if I took the group bus with the other students, which meant I would have to leave the previous evening and somehow stay in Rome overnight. So I quickly gathered myself, packed in about 20 minutes flat, and began to say my goodbyes. The students I wasn’t worried about – most of them I would see in Oberlin in a month anyhow – but I absolutely couldn’t leave without seeing a few people from the town.

Unfortunately, with this short notice change of plans there was no time to find so many of the locals that I had gotten to know. I don’t know if I’m disappointed about this, or if I’m glad – maybe too many goodbyes would have been too depressing. I knew I still had a long day of travel ahead and wanted to keep my spirits up as much as was possible under the circumstances. Maybe it’s also better to remember all the times I had talking with them, instead of my last memory being that of saying goodbye…. But there was one place that I had to go.

Going into Carlo’s shop, I approached with an unintentionally sad look on my face. Carlo frowned back at me as I walked in and asked what the matter was, and when I told him I had to leave that day instead of tomorrow, his face turned sad as well. As a formal goodbye, we exchanged home and email addresses, and Barbara gave me a thin cardboard tulip from the shop as a parting gift. Daniele, who I had texted to meet up there one last time, looked pretty shaken when he found out that I had to go so soon, which he quickly remedied with a cigarette. Then we all wandered outside and chatted for a few minutes; I asked Carlo if he would still be at the shop in a year, and with the customary accompanying hand gesture he answered, “Magari,” I hope so. I promised that if I were ever in town again I would come visit, and then left the two men standing by the rail smoking – just the way I first met them five weeks ago.

Later that night I passed by the cozy little shop one last time getting to the train station, but didn’t stop to go in, just waved to Carlo and yelled “ciao” in passing. I knew if I had gone in to say a final final goodbye I might not have gotten away without a few tears.

Closing the chapter on Italy,
-Allie