Italia a marzo.

Pollen is every where in Tampa; dusting the streets, the outdoor staircases, surrounding previously occupied parking spots.  The greenish-yellow film creates a strange yet welcoming contrast to the wide, striking blue sky.  I’m welcoming spring, not because it’s like any other spring I’ve experienced in Florida –

but because in eight days I leave for Italy. And naturally, everything is wonderful.

There’s a feeling I get every time I leave to go overseas. It’s as though I’m walking around after a gruesome leg work out, but it’s all the emotion intertwined with my romance for Rome and the Amalfi Coast.  Everything seems to be dream-like as the days slowly build up to our (mom and I) departure.  I’m in a haze, I guess similar to the one pollen leaves behind (without the excessive sneezing).

I want to keep a travel diary this time around.  It’s something I couldn’t bring myself to do the last two times.  As though if I stopped for a second to write a thought down, I might miss a chance to see more beauty.  But this time we plan to live like locals, and perhaps I can put my head down to create and commemorate.

Un bichierre di vino rosso, per favore?

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