I was attracted to the window by the overwhelming scent from the brilliant red geraniums hanging like drops of blood in the window box. As I leaned out to smell them, the hot sun warmed my face while the smooth, cold marble of the windowsill cooled my hands. It was a wonderful summer day in southern Italy. The air felt so fresh and I could almost taste the salt from the blue ocean in the distance. Yet, the ocean today seemed like a sheet of silver as the brilliant sun glittered blindingly on the water. The sea gulls sailing just above the horizon would suddenly dip down into the water and emerge with their meal. The repeated thudding of a basketball intruded upon this peaceful scene. Drawn back to my window overlooking a busy piazza, I was suddenly aware of more than the young boys planning basketball. Giggling girls were watching these boys shoot baskets while their mothers, arms loaded with daily groceries, talked loudly to be heard over the noise of the young people. A storekeeper, arguing excitedly, emphasized each point with dramatic gestures of his hands. As I surveyed the scene below, I heard the church bell announcing the hour. Yet, I did not need this ding-dong repeating over and over to tell me it was noon because the smell of baking break drifting through the air had made me hungry. My mouth watered and I could almost taste the warm, freshly bakes bread melting in my mouth. Thankfully, the aromas of break and pizza from the bakery were more overwhelming than the odious scent of cigars that old men smoking as they lounged on the benches. With one last glance out my window, I made my way quickly downstairs and into the kitchen where my Italian relatives were preparing lunch.
How I wished at times that I could live in Italy with my relatives. When here I can always feel my half Italian side coming out in me, and fall in loved the carefree, easy going, relaxed culture. Since this particular experience I have returned to Italy 2 times to...