Things every Woman Should do at least Once in Italy

I know I will add to this list as memories touch me..

1. Wash her socks in the sea

2. Camp within earshot of the waves

3. Climb a mountain and at the top raise her hands to the heaven in triumph

4. Eat fruit stolen from someone's garden

5. Kiss a Sunflower

6. Spot a hummingbird

7. Eat the award winning "Best Gelato in the World" in San Giminiano

8. Eat it again two hours later...

9. Make a wish of love before tossing a coin over her shoulder 

10. Hide from the rain with stacks of hay and affectionate kittens

11. Feed a horse a banana

12. Feed a donkey crackers

13. Kayak the Cinque Terre without a life jacket

14. Touch the feet of God in a church

15. Hug a haystack

16. Sip wine.. always wine..

17. Light a candle...or a hundred

18. Ride a bus without paying

19. Ride a streetcar without paying

20. Incur the wrath of an Italian mother... and survive..

21. Cross the River Arno while singing Puccini arias

22. Accidentally kiss someone's lips because of wrongly anticipating which cheek to kiss first
23. Walk with butterflies
24. Drink from a river
25. Play in a fountain
26. See Rome at night from the back of a scooter driven by a beautiful man

27. See Rome in the day from the back of a scooter driven by a beautiful man

28. See Rome pretty much anytime at all from the back of a scooter driven by a beautiful man..

29. Sit in a piazza in the same place for at least two hours and watch the world go by

30. Learn to cook arancini 

31. Drink Grappa with an old man

32. See herself in the eyes of one who desires her

33. Watch the sun set so intently that the actual movement can be seen
34. Crash a wedding

35. Chase a saint

36. Build dreams late at night in Saint Peter's Square

unconditional

Today I hate Peter.  I went for a walk, looking at all the sloppily dressed people and I thought "don't you people have pride in yourselves??" I thought this.. me.. the person who wears makeup only for recitals and who brushes her hair every other day. I missed the beautiful Italian women in their flowery dresses and the gorgeous men in their Ray Bans. As I walked, I felt Peter behind me, pulling me backwards. "Jen, why are you walking away from me?" he said. "Because the grocery store is not in the same direction as you!!"I shouted.

 Peter is now Mecca. I am always aware of what direction to face in order to look towards him. 

Yesterday it was 97 degrees in Rome and 85 degrees in Chicago. Yet in Chicago, I froze my ass off while waiting hours to renew my drivers license in an overpopulated and overly air conditioned government building. But since I was there, I took a simple test and in addition to a renewed license, I received a learners permit to one day drive a Vespa. 

But while Chicago is not Rome, here I know how to cross a street, I know that I never get lost, I know what people around me are saying, I know I have respect, I know who I am.... most of the time.

*****

There are worse places to hide from the rain than in a shed full of hay and kittens. Earlier in the day I had gotten distracted by a street market in San Gimignano causing me to start my day's walk at 10am. Five kilometers later, I managed to get lost in an olive grove, unnecessarily climbing a very large hill... twice. Throughout the day I watched nervously as thick dark clouds gathered on the horizon directly ahead of me. I raced, thinking to reach my destination before the heavens opened. As lighting flashed across the sky, I walked low through exposed fields, aware of the foolish metal walking stick in my hand. Finally, after a couple of hours of anticipation, and just 3 miles outside of Abbidia-a-Isola, the storm raged.  I walked, letting the rain drench my skin, my eyelashes sprinkled with water. I spotted a tiny three walled shed just off the path and quickly changed my direction. I took off my backpack, and climbed onto a dry haystack as the rain picked up in intensity. While I waited quietly huddled, eating a cheese sandwich, I was joined by two cheese loving kittens. An hour later with cheese as a fond memory, I sat with a kitten on my lap and another perched on a haystack at my shoulder, sweetly head butting my neck. As the rain softened, I thought to stay there forever, warm and unconditionally cherished. But, as always, the next destination awaited...

"Peter, I could really use an arrow right now."
"Oh, Jen.."

"When the path ignites a soul,

There's no remaining in place.

The foot touches ground,

but not for long."

Hakim Sanai

Magic

As an adult, I have gleefully read Dante's Inferno and frequently reference his circles of hell, generally causing people to give me blank or concerned stares. I reveled in Dante's creative means of punishment in his Purgatorio, but I never had any interest whatsoever in reading his Paradiso. After all,  What could possibly be interesting about perfection?  

As a child, I sat in church, rebelliously listening to stories of heaven and I questioned.. "Really? you just praise God all day? That sounds boring!" After church, I would race outside to play, savoring the freedom of the dirt beneath my fingernails. 

While waiting in the busy basilica to take a photo with Saint Peter, I listened in on a conversation between a young girl, her parents, and a humorless priest. "Why is everyone touching his feet?" The girl questioned while looking at Peter's feet rubbed smooth by the hands of millions of pilgrims. "Well," the priest began haughtily. "It's actually a pagan ritual that I think is wrong because that statue is not saint Peter. It's just a statue and touching the feet is a form of idol worship. Saints are not God and worshiping them is wrong.." As the priest continued his sermon, the little girl interrupted, "but I  just want to touch his feet!" She looked my direction with confusion in her eyes. 

I shrugged sympathetically. "I think that the saints are my friends." I said. "And I am going to touch his feet!" 

The priest glanced darkly my way and said dismissively to the girl, "Well, I'm not, but you can if YOU want."  I watched them walk away without approaching Peter, and I laughed as I saw the little girl glance frequently back at him, a little pilgrim shining from her eyes. 

Later, hours after leaving the basilica, I had lost my humor.  "Peter, you are such an asshole!!!" I said while cleaning my dropped gelato off of all my money and passport. I had spent the intervening hours wandering Rome lost and disoriented after my phone died, taking all my maps with it,  and my sense of direction had fled like a pigeon hoarding a cracker. Peter laughed though, "Jen, you didn't think the lessons would end upon touching my feet, did you..."

My last night in Rome, Daniele, a friend of mine from last year's camino, and I shared beers and confidences in Campo De Fiori.  I had just bought a pretty little dress in one of the stores in the piazza and I was trying to soak in every last weak ray of sunshine and every voice echoing off the cobblestones. Daniele and I sat, our heads together as we talked of life, love and God and my heart felt sick at just the thought of leaving beautiful Rome in mere hours. As we chatted facing the piazza, a loud street performer approached and set up in front of us. I sent an annoyed glance his way as he noisily began his "magic" routine, cutting off my conversation with Daniele. I watched the man grudgingly, mentally scoffing at his silly tricks as he swallowed a sword. "Pfft, Any fool can see that the sword is collapsible," I thought. 
 "Oh Come on Jen, I have taken you across this entire country and still you don't see???"
"Peter, I only see a loud man with tired tricks! I don't know what I am supposed to see?!"
"Look again."

I looked up, staring at the man and glancing at the people around me. My gaze landed on a beautiful young girl, dancing on the edge of becoming a stunning young woman, her face shining with innocence and amazement as she eagerly watched the magician.

"Do you see her joy, Jen?" Peter said. " Stop looking for the trick and instead fill yourself with the same wonder she has in the beautiful creation around  you!"

*****

"Peter!!!! I have to leave today and yet you put a giant street market right outside my door??? You know I love markets!!! WTF???"
"Don't worry Jen, you'll have plenty of chances in your future to buy 3 euro skirts and cheap knockoff soccer jerseys...But why don't you console yourself now with some duty free Grappa."

I put on my backpack, blew a kiss Saint Peter's way, and headed to the airport.

"It's not what you look at that matters, 

It's what you see." 

Henry David Thoreau