hmmm...

oh my heavens, it has been an absolutely absurd past 72 hours.

i am in rome, back safe and sound, a little bit wiser, a tiny bit bummed, but still feeling quite enthralled. and i will be so so sad to leave this city.

i believe i left you, dear reader, with a snippet of a post about having ventured to the sea, to the coast of the mediterranean, to a small town called Sperlonga. this trip was illadvised by a boy i met that night at the cookbook bar. he said the distance was too great to bother, and that i should just go to orvieto if i wanted the ocean, as it is only a short subway ride away. i decided thursday morning (afternoon, rather) that i didnt really care about distance, as i didnt have anything better to do, and a trip through the country might be nice.

i successfully located a bus, boarded it, rode to the train station, purchased a ticket to Napoli/Sperlonga from a little automated ticket machine (some hobo had to help me with this...i kept pressing the wrong buttons and then tried to put my cash in the credit card slot...the hobo literally sighed, a deep, bored sigh, took my 50euro bill, put it into the cash slot, retrieved my tickets from a secret door, one that i would have never found, handed me my ticket, change, receipt, pointed out the way to my track, and walked away. i ran after him and gave him 2euro), and got on my train, in a seat next to some guy who immediately took his shoes off, airing his dirty socks too all in the compartment.

the trip to sperlonga wasnt too bad, but i did have to disembark at some strange, sad town called Fondi, where i was too busy trying to work the book-vending-machine to catch the connecting bus to sperlonga, and had to sit an hour and a half in a tiny train station cafe waiting for the next ride.

sperlonga ended up being exquisite, very greecan (all white stucco and wild hills), and full of rich people on their summer vaca. i strolled around town, dipped my toes in the ocean, ate gelato, watched the sunset, and dined on mussels at the sperlonga yacht club. the train ride home took a good while, and when i got back i went right to sleep...

friday was absolutely ridiculous. the bulk of the day was spent at the little cafe in campo de fiori, where the jude law lookalike works. since i had nothing to do, and the nicest thing to do in rome anyway is sit and eat cheese and people watch, i positioned myself at a little table and proceeded to while away my hours reading, relaxing , and drinking coffee. this, of course, had nothing to do with the boy. just a coincidence.

the jude law look alike and i chatted intermittently between coffees, and eventually i asked him his name, in italian. he said, "tony, but i am not italian, so english is fine". turns out hes Greek. and when he asked me my name, and he looked at me with his chocolate milk eyes, and he said, "ah, prego, el-i-a-noor-a", in his soft sweet voice, i thought i was going to cast. a. kitten.

seriously, my breath stopped in my chest, and, it could have been the 4 coffees, but my hands were all shaky and my face got bright red, and when he saw this his face got bright red, and then we both laughed.

i left the cafe finally, and went back to the apartment, and in a fit of insane passion, decided that i absolutely had to ask this boy out because, who cares, i am only in rome 3 more days and ive never seen anyone prettier and no one has ever said my name like that, so what have i got to lose?

i threw on some chanel and grabbed my purse and ran out the door. as soon as the door slammed...i realized that i had left the keys.
immediate panic stations, as the apartment doors are severe, heavy medeival wood and the keys are monstrous skeleton keys and antonio had said "do not leave the keys because there is no other way in" and no landlord to call and no ladder with which to climb the building up to the 3rd floor. luckily, i had my phone, and my money, so after a few histerical phone calls i found myself in a taxi, on my way back to the train station, on my way to Siena, where i was to meet antonio to get the other set of keys.
4 hours later, after a beautiful but exhausting ride through tuscany, i disembarked at the Siena train station,where i was met by antonio in his little Punto stick shift. naturally i had managed to lock myself out at a time when it was too late to both go and return from siena, so antonio said it was fine, that i could stay the night at his parents, so we just made an evening of it. there was a concert going on in the big piazza and we met up with some of his friends (one of them was v cute and nice and went to oxford!) and watched the show. it was some strange singer/songwriter who fancied himself an italian bob dylan (he had the cowboy hat and blazer circa 1994 and a waxy voice and everything...as a purist, i was a bit affronted) and some of his songs were backed by an orchestra and he wore costumes like beaks and head scarves and things. the italians all thought this was the MOST BIZARRE and CRAZY thing that had ever happened, and they kept asking me if i was alright, and if i was shocked or something. i asked them if theyd ever heard of a band called GWAR...
the night in siena ended well...i had some good gelato...call my mom if you want more details...

anyway, i left siena early the next morning, as i had important business to take care of in the city (chocolate milk eyes...). this time however, i took a bus most of the way. the ride was MAGNIFICENT!!! we rode up and over beautiful tuscan hills, across bridges, through tiny towns, over peaks and around cliffs...the landscape was a wash of gold and brown and green, nothing for miles but wheat and castle steeples. we went through montepulciano, which is where they make my moms and my favorite wine! it was amazing and peaceful and the bus was airconditioned...
so, i finally arrived back in rome. i rushed home, took a shower, threw on a pretty dress, and was out the door in 20 minutes flat...i had to see about that boy, 24 hours later...
at the cafe i was all sweaty and out of breath and so nervous that i couldnt stop shaking, but he was there, and he was sweet. i finally was about to talk to him, when this crazy person who had been sitting across from me came over and asked to sit down. at first i told him no, actually several times, but he persisted and i was finally like, ok, fine, i dont care. turns out he was some insane old french economist who spoke 15 languages and had homes in greece, italy, france, and albania. he told me that he wanted to talk to me because i resembled, "ear, nose, and bone", his "first true love", gabriella. the guy went on and on forever and ever talking about philosophy and culture and outlining the differences between the french and like, everyone else. he took dead aim at the italians, and told me that they are not to be trusted, that they are never what they seem...that the italians were amazing to "have a ball" with, but that nothing serious ever touched them. he said the greeks were philosophical and made great lovers, but that they were also obsessed with the "mama", like italians. and the french were apparently perfect, especially since in relationships the man is dominant and the woman knows her place, and they have an incredible amount of sauces and the best wine, blahblahblah. was all a bunch of insanity, but i filtered it and will keep my eyes open. hehe, at one point though, he spoke greek to tony (who, by the way, i had been mouthing "help!" to, while he just laughed and shook his head and mouthed back "he's drunk!!"...also kept bringing me camparis and plates of cheese...love him...) trying to be all impressive, and tony responded in greek really quickly and the guy faltered and tony was like, "oh, im sorry, maybe you know english better?".
the guy wouldnt leave my side, and eventually tony's shift ended and he left, giving me a wan smile and wave and nodding apologetically at the french guy. i was so so sad. finally i couldnt take it anymore, and told the french guy that i had to go, and packed up my stuff and trudged home, scuffing my shoes and pouting, thinking that i would never, ever see tony again.
but, when i reached piazza farnese, i looked across the way, and there he was, my greek with eyes like chocolate milk, sitting on the edge of the fountain, just sitting there...he waved and i walked right up to him. "you escaped!", he said, and i giggled. we talked for a moment, and eventually he walked me to my door. he was very impressed with where i was staying, as apparently this area is very expensive, and i explained that i spent all summer slaving away at a terribly demanding job in order to afford this place. we started to falter at the goodbye...he kept looking at my door and stuttering and said finally, "which one is yours", nodding to the doorbells. i giggled and said, "oh this one", pointing to antonios bell. "de orange one, ok...maybe...i ring it...about 8:30...maybe", he said. i burst out laughing and said "ok, well maybe ill be waiting with bated breath"...then he kissed my cheeks and squeezed my hands...and walked away...
i did not, as i would have expected, completely melt down and run upstairs and chug campari from the bottle and begin applying mascara as a histerical displacement activity. i did, however, make myelf a salad, listen to broken social scene, and expect the worst...

to be continued...