a sad day, to be certain

i knew it was coming...the end of our stay in italy, i mean. i just didn't want it to. not one bit. even now, typing in my hotel room in holland, i wish i had the light sweat of the humid air in italy, overhearing the musical cadence of someone's conversation, smelling the delicious foods of the trattorias as it fills the streets, tsting the sweetness of the coconut gelato i hold in my hand, and seeing the many people join me as i walk cobblestone streets, lined by homes and churches - buildings - built hundreds of years ago...

my family and some friends have heard me talk of italy, talk about moving there, talk about these wild, outlandish things, always involving italy. i've had a love for the country since i don't know when. and, frankly, i don't know why. they're all sick and tired of it, i know, but, i still love it so very much.

please don't misunderstand, the trip wasn't all roses. i mean, traveling with two women is no easy task (and much worse than than anything i might've experienced with my sisters or traveling with sam for my first euro trip. for much of the journey, i was off on my own, tired of being second-guessed and hearing the snipey comments that happen during any time of length you may spend with someone. but, even with those frustrations, i am in love with italy and did not want to leave.

there's a magic there that i haven't found anywhere else. pardon the cliche of this next comment, but i've found it to be exceptionally true, florence is the location of my renaissance, the place of clarity for me. i see its worldliness, the energy of the city, for me, is filled with the obvious history and art, sure, but also carries an indescribable beauty. florence is a definite place of introspection for me, rivaled by the sea (best in hawai'i, but i won't hate on it anywhere) and, somewhere closer to phoenix, jerome. i know me better in florence, and that is important to me.

venice is a page of a book coming alive. the stories are not myths, they are real. the beauty is all its own. there is no smell, as many people say. the canals are not dirty, as people may lead you to believe. the air is fresh, of the sea. the water murky, but with the murkiness of a lagoon. regardless, the architecture, the spirit of the city, everything it has to offer, is a magic all its own. this does not resonate with me like florence, but its beauty is one to behold.

i still feel as though i did tuesday night atop piazzale michelango. looking out over the city, i made a conscious decision to return to the room. i did not want to leave, but i do not regret leaving. i left with the complete intent of returning. i left wanting more.

with all of this being said, i am still very excited to see the other offerings of europe, the beauty of these other cultures, the tastes of their typical food. i can't wait to walk the streets in holland, in brussels, in france. the emotion i'm feeling is akin to that i felt when i would leave my parents to visit my grandparents - i don't want to leave one, but do want to see the other. i departed something i love, something with which i am partially familiar for something else i love, something uncertain and full of adventure.

my next trip to europe may not include italy, but i will be back. as certain as this day was sad...