604,800 seconds. 10,080 minutes. 168 hours. 7 days. ONE WEEK.
One week until I am living in Rome. I don't know if it's the unusually high dose of caffeine from my espresso doppio addiction, the enchanting yet hilarious words from Barzini's "The Italians" I am currently reading, the refreshing feeling of sitting on the porch in glorious not-too-hot, not-too-cold weather, or the combination of all three that have finally replaced the "I am going to vomit" nerves with the "I am going to burst with happiness and excitement" feeling.
Perhaps it's the realization that I going to my "homeland," the place where I am the happiest I have ever been in my life. When I'm in Italy, it's hard for me to be sad, upset, angry, or any of those most un-italian feelings (Although anger is most Italian, and there is an abundance of it. But somehow those hilarious tempers just add to the country's appeal.)
I just cannot help but feel so grateful when I'm in Italy. All the times I've gone, it has never become less impressive or magical. I don't deserve to be there, but somehow I keep making my way back and having the time of my life each time. Magically, I get to spend the upcoming months in this glorious place. Sitting at a cafe with my espresso, reading a book about my favorite place, in my favorite place, speaking and hearing music in the form of words, contemplating the people who traversed this same spot thousands of years ago. The most incredible art, history, culture, wine, food, all in one place. Is that really allowed?
Somehow I keep forgetting that I'm taking classes : )
