Italia

Buongiorno! 

I realize it has been a while since we last met. You’ve heard my rantings of this crazy and hectic life, which I’m sure you just as well relate to at times… Thanks for sticking through.

However, this time, I’ve a different story to tell you. One week ago today, I arrived in Rome for the first time! These previous seven days have been the start of probably the grandest adventure in my life thus far: a semester spent in Italia. I am here, in a small town north of Rome, for the next four months. To experience culture. Learn Italian. Eat the most comforting food in the world. Peer into the depths art and antiquity. Take a step toward learning more about myself and about others. And countless other reasons I have yet to discover. 

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Travelellyn hopperComment
Bruschetta, a First Dinner

The flavors of my family are as such...

Garlic. Balsamic. Pepper. Olive oil. Parmesan. Dijon. Spinach. Pasta. Basil.

A collective whole that is tangy and zingy on the tongue but full and comforting in body. It bursts with depth, adventure, and richness. The crisp chop of the garlic and the traveling aroma of its mysterious spicy-sweet complexity. The thick creaminess of dijon shaken with balsamic vinegar and bold olive oil... It all combines after the first few cuts on the plate. Chicken, rice, and spinach merge with the mud to create a mix of homey perfection. And when it's all gone, the crispy bread fulfills its role by swooping in and mopping up leftovers that simply cannot be left behind. It is only to be followed by a hoping finger that ventures to the plate and returns to the mouth with a smidgen of the meal's flavors for the taste buds to fight over.

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Philly Dreaming

My best friend Krysia and I have a dream.

It's a beautiful dream that has existed since our youngest years. Back in the day, we used to talk about how one day we would own a bed and breakfast, in which Krysia would run the front of the house, I would cook all the food, and our third friend would serve meals to guests on her roller-skates. Very sensible, really. 

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Words, a Prequel.

It seems that I've been all over the place again. I don't know how it happens, but each week seems to flit past my eyes before I even realize how far into the month we are. The only reason I know the date on a regular basis is because almost daily, my sharpie-gripping hands write onto masking tape those two or three numbers separated by a slash, in order to keep track of all the jolly goods we make at the bakery. I'm thankful for that because otherwise, I'd have no idea what day it is. Probably ever.

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ellyn hopperComment