A water fountain near our apartment and on the way to the college, a former monastery, Susan Michael Barrett, photographer
I so want to write romantically about Italian food.
Day two: I stay in bed shivering in fever.
Day four: Orvieto, Italy. A funicular cable ride up the mountain to learn in a downpour of cold rain about the facade of the Orvieto Cathedral, meandering streets, and finally zuppa. (Hearing the word funicular brings the Funiculi Finicula song to mind. I bet you know it.)
About 4:30 PM, I get my first glimpse of Coronta, a small town nestled near the top of a mountain. Our bus stops next to a church. Below the church is the monastery, which is now a college established by the University of Georgia and where the students live and T will teach.
Roberto our landlord takes us to our apartment on Via Maffei. Thirty-three steps up, broken into three angular sets. My legs ask why I didn’t investigate apartment options before T agreed to this one. We get a quick tour of what will be home for three months. We unpack. The charm of a 1500 CE apartment with thick stone walls, beamed and brick ceilings, terra cotta floors, and swinging windows and shutters are chilled by weariness.
My reactions. (I say zuppa and she says she doesn’t know what that means so I say it louder.)
My opinions. (Our apartment needs a clothes-dryer. And WiFi.)
My judgements. (That mini-blender I bought won’t chop kale.)
My thoughts. (I’m on a self-selected retreat, so why is it so difficult?)
My admonishments. (You’re too “something” for a trip like this.)
My behaviors. (Lost in a tired woe, I pass a homeless man and do not think to give him my left-over food.)