I’ve hit a very strange stage in my life in Rome: it no longer feels like vacation.
The first few months in Italy felt like a long-extended trip. I was in love with the idea of Rome, but frustrated by Italian systems that I didn’t understand and secretly dreaming of how easy life was back in the US. I was cautious about doing anything here that would feel too permanent.
But this morning, I found the perfect poster for my newly furnished living room. Yep. I took the plunge and bought some furniture. Good bye “break dancing room,” hello livable “sitting room.”
I secretly think there’s still plenty of room for break dancing, though. And Alberto Sordi can watch over it all:
I managed to get a discount on my find by explaining: “But I AM an American IN Rome. I live here!”
“You live here? I’ve lived here for 20 years and you are the first American I’ve ever met here! There are lots of Americans in the center, yes. But not here!”
A 20 minute conversation about his love for Las Vegas and Los Angeles later, I headed back home.
There, I said it- Home.