Roma, You Give Me Fever

I'm in love...with Rome. A crazy busy city, Rome is filled with sexy people, sexy food and sexy monuments (I was extra observant: most of them don't even have a loincloth). However, it took what felt like forever to get here...

The little bug that I caught, turned out to be a giant tarantula that was making me sweat buckets. Feeling awful, everything became unbearable: a glitchy console on the plane to the woman sitting beside me who's breath I swear, could have killed small children. Onto sweat bucket #5, I finally arrived at the Fiumicino Airport in Rome, and encountered my driver who took me to my B&B which was now under a different name...strange, I thought. After confirming the address, it all checked out and I was now at my slightly dodgy, yet very clean little room with private bath. Call it what you want, I thought. I just need a shower...desperately. I was onto sweat bucket #7 and by this point my bangs were stuck to my forehead. Sexy I know, but please, contain yourself.

Dropping my bags with limp arms, I took my sweaty, sexy self to the shower. Turning the lever to the the left...cold. Turning it to the right...cold. Repeating this several more times like a make-shift windsheild wiper, I realized...no hot water. Making news of this to my hosts who kindly apologized, they informed me that in good Catholic fashion all shops and services were closed on Sundays. The issue would be resolved...tomorrow morning.

Now would be a good time to use the few Italian words I know, I thought.

After downing 3,000mg of Vitamin C, I was determined that I'd sleep through the night starting at 6pm. I huddled under my blankets wishing I wasn't alone and rather that I was back at home. There under my sheets I sweated out buckets 10 and 11. But between jet lag and my host's child screaming like a gremlin, I slept on and off lacking the energy I needed to get up and use those few Italian words. I dreamt on and off of tumultous times in the past and I realized that this tarantula was bigger than I gave it credit for. It was confronting me with tough times that haunted me from time to time which have had a part to play in my present fears and insecurities. And there in my little room in Rome I was being faced with it. Pain and accountability of past actions flashed by me followed by guilt that suddently began to melt away. The tarantula taught me that sometimes there are some mistakes in life that are simply misguided passions. That evening it was teaching me the difficult lesson of letting go...

Finally, I woke up to the warm smell of espresso which lifted and guided me towards the kitchen for breakfast where I bit into fresh fruit, biscuits and cheese from the market. Then two magical words kissed my ears...acqua calda. Leaving my breakfast half eaten, I jumped in the shower and ran it as hot as I could muster. Walking out, I felt brand new and realized...this is my chance to start anew. Take it and love every bit of it.

So I did.

I quickly changed, and made my way to Via Merulana and ate the creamiest porcocini risotto I've ever had... Since my tummy was still feeling a little woozy, I knew that this rice dish was going to help to tonify my spleen qi (strengthening digestive energy). Excited, I snapped photos wildly until the waiter looked dumb founded and asked, Signora che cosa stai fachendo? Trying to explain to him what I was doing, I began to express my passion for food in what looked like cherades. Excited over my enthusiasm, he brought me this on the house:

Biting into it, he described it to me: sliced apple with mascarpone cheese and arugula wrapped in bresaola meat (an air-dried salted beef that looks a lot like prosciutto but isn't). I know, fruit and meat...bad food combining, but apples seem to work in this combo due to its malic acid content which helps to break it down a little easier. So I thought...dig in.

Excited, I was pumped to see the Colloseum which was just minutes from me now. Getting there I snapped some photos and was in awe, but my second brain (my digestive sytsem) was speaking to me again. More food. While I love and respect the architecture of Rome, I'm certainly more drawn to the food and finding the best eats. So later in my day, as I passed by beautiful people, I was hooked mid walk with an aroma that filled the alleyway of Centro Historico...a pastry shop. No, I don't usually indulge in this wheat, dairy and sugar loving indulgence, but it's all about balance and I'm in Rome damn it where food really is love.

After scanning the glass where I swear I left behind imprints of my face, I came across bocconicini del nono...roughly translated in English as grandpa's balls. Giggling to myself, I purchased one, bit into its soft centre and encountered its little cherry filling. What a crazy dirty mind and yes, I fit right in.

Taking the last sips of my second espresso for the day, I breathed in and smiled. Only two days in Italy, and I feel like I'm finally waking up from a bad dream. Italy has spun me on the dancefloor and made sweet love to me that I'm aching for seconds, thirds and forths if it would have me. Yes Roma, you certainly give me fever...thank you, thank you, thank you.

I'll see you tomorrow ;)