Viva Italia!
The only directions to my Great Uncle’s restaurant rested on a yellowed old postcard that my Nonno gave to me right before he died. He had drawn with his fragile, shaky hand, a little map of the lake from his memory of where my Nonna was born. His map took me to the waterfront of Lago Di Garda, Northern Italia. The town was called Castelletto. After making it this far and alone, I was exhausted but extremely excited. I was determined to find the restaurant, so I kept my eyes peeled like lemons. As I walked, I reflected back to the reasons that brought me there. So here is the way my story goes…Italy had always been a dream of mine and now I was actually there, but most intense, was my great need to touch base with my ancestors. My Nonna died before I was able to meet her and I felt as though this was the perfect opportunity to connect with my family roots. I had awoken to a beautiful sunrise out of my hotel balcony. The rays filled my room with an illuminating glow and the fresh morning air made . . .
Soon after, I started to smell the amazing aroma of rich Italian food, which intoxicated my body with hunger. Hours later, I stepped off the rusty old bus, and I started my search. There was a marvelous view of the blue and purple mountains, and at the base laid the lake that seemed so enticing after my walk in the hot sun; I felt as though it was calling out my name. Italians have a beautiful way of life. I quickly got ready, grabbed a bite to go, and started walking to the bus station that was located about two miles from my hotel. When I found “Restorante Alberto”, I was bombarded with hugs and kisses with a true genuine feeling and was lavished with great food and wine. I had an eager, adventurous feeling inside me and I was ready to start my long day’s journey that I had on my agenda. The sun was beating down on me and my huge travel backpack was weighing me down. The bus made a big jolt and started to move, I fell into an automatic relaxation period as I watched the tantalizing scenery roll by. I responded with “Bene, e tu?” Our conversation ended quickly when he ripped my ticket stub; I then headed to the back of the bus and sat in the squeaky seat. I could feel the sweat start to drip down my lower back. The colors were so vibrant that my eyes made a squint, but attempted another try. The sailboats glided across the lake like ballerinas on ice. I was like a wild animal released from the zoo into their natural Habitat.
Common topics in this essay:
Northern Italia, Restorante Alberto, Viva Italia, viva italia, cobblestone paths, |
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