Italian Memoir (Part One)

For the next few days I’m going to have posts outlining the memoir that I wrote for a class on my time in Italy. Since I’m on Spring Break I’ll probably post a lot but each memoir piece will be subject-ed as such. I’m going to be doing some edits so any and all comments would be greatly appreciated.

My Love Affair
With Italy
“Look out the window! Look! Look!”I was jarred from my half-conscious state by John, whose nose was up against the thick plastic window of the airplane. Once I woke enough to focus my eyes outside the window, it was worth waking up. “Wow! It’s beautiful!”

John immediately began flashing his camera out the window. “They’re the Alps, right?”

“Yeah…yeah, I guess so.”

The mountains were breath-taking. It was as though we had ascended Heaven and were looking down on it. The wispy clouds encircled the snow-covered peaks and gales of the mountain range creating a glorious landscape in the sky. I know thousands of passengers soar over the mountain range every day but, for one second, it seemed as though we were the only two people in the world that had ever seen it.

When we finally touched down in Milan, Italy (an hour later than scheduled) we were exhausted! An hour bus ride into the city and we separated to meet our individual host families. My family was warm and gracious and spoke impeccable English but soon after arriving to their home, I was asleep.

The next day, after a long night of rest, John and I set out to explore the city a bit. The main strip of Milan, Buenos Aires, houses shops of all different genres and its passengers are the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen! In fact, everyone in Italy is beautiful, which must be a tribute to their country.

We decided to have our first real pizza at a little shop off the main strip where the server spoke little to no English and we just had to guess and point to what we thought we wanted. In order to avoid any unwanted surprises, we both ordered plain cheese pizzas.

“Can I just order a slice or two?”

I scanned the menu then tried to recall my last visit to Italy. “No, no…I’m pretty sure you have to order an entire pizza. They’re not that big, I don’t think. They’re like personal-size.”

Wrong! Two medium-sized pizzas were brought to our table, one for me and one for John. This was a meal for the Italian people – and they say Americans have large portion-sizes!

John just looked up at me from the slice he was working on, cheese oozing back onto his plate. “How do they eat like this and stay so thin?!”

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