Sometimes, I get hit with a feeling that is just like homesickness, yet, I am home. There must be a better word than just “miss.” I miss Italy. I really, really miss Italy. See – not the same.  I could say nostalgia del cupolone, the Florentine phrase for homesickness for the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, or what is known as the Duomo, but I am homesick for all of Italy. There must be a word for feelings that describe homesickness for a place other than your home. For now, it shall be Romesick.

Enjoying Morning Cappuccino

One of my favorite times of the day in Italy is the early morning. Other times being, mid-morning, late-morning, noon, afternoon, mid- after…you get the picture. But, early morning is the time of day that, really, only the locals are out. Maybe a few tourists waiting for their bus to pick them up for the daily tour. Mostly, it is just people on their way to work, daily food shop or grabbing a quick breakfast.

My Baby Sister at Tazza D'Oro

Breakfast is not usually the production we make in the states. There are not huge trays of eggs, ham, breads, potatoes, bacon, et al. For the most part, breakfast is coffee and a pastry. What is not to love about that. Italian bars can look a bit dark and intimidating, with a bunch of people standing around , you don’t know quite what to do. You may think it is an after hours hangout where they are still serving alcohol. But, it is really quite harmless. Generally, you order at the cash register, take your receipt to the bar and give the receipt to the barista. Quite easy, no?

In Rome, I walk across town to Tazza D’oro, near the Pantheon. It is still a place frequented by locals, but sufficiently used to dealing with tourists after having been written about in Starbuck’s Founder, Howard Shultz’s book, Pour Your Heart Into It. It has been popular for coffee/Starbucks aficionados to visit, but, this ain’t Starbucks. Most any coffee you get in Rome or Italy is better than Starbucks. It must be a mixture of the water and breathing the air, because I can bring the same beans home to brew and it doesn’t taste the same.

I order a cappuccino and cornetto. Cappuccino’s are typically breakfast drinks in Italy. And a cornetto is like a croissant. Sometimes topped with sugar or filled with cream. I think they have to-go cups now, but no one besides tourists use them. I stand at the bar and drink from the chipped cup and saucer. The creamy foam clings to my lips. I can feel the grainy bits of sugar I sprinkled on top as I lick it off. The flaky cornetto is light and airy and I immediately plan to have another one. The baristas are filling drinks and serving pastry quickly. People drift in and out. There is not that much lingering.

Then I begin my stroll back to the hotel. Shop and restaurant owners are getting ready for the day, putting out plants, rinsing off the cobblestones as they greet one another. The air is a bit cool, the buildings on the narrow streets block the morning sun. Heels and hoofs click on the stones and echo through the passageways.

The same type of morning rituals that go on most anyplace, yet here, I am among buildings that are centuries old. History at every turn. I am looking at the same things that Caesar and Cleopatra did. Not the shops so much, of course, but the Pantheon, the Forum, the fountains, the cobblestones…I think I am Romesick.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 25th, 2009 at 8:55 am and is filed under daily diva. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.