Finding the balance.
It's been a rough week. I'm a spoiled brat, I know. I travel from Rome to New York and I still complain.
But it really is a difficult adjustment, and going from the streets of Trastevere to the boring suburbs of Long Island isn't very fun. I'm having trouble finding some balance in my diet as well. I'm never satisfied after a meal. I'm going to gain 50 pounds.
I'm dying for my Roman apartment and the smell Villa Pamphili as we are roasting in the sun. The lifestyle here is just too different, and it is not one that I am willing to adjust to anymore.
I'm not even allowed to drink legally. How stupid is that? I go from drinking bottles of wine with a group of loud Italians on the steps of Piazza Trilussa, to getting carded? CARDED? It just seems like such a stupid argument.
As far as a job goes, I might be a waitress at this Italian restaurant if I can get it. I need to make some serious money this summer, because my bank account is lacking. I'm good looking enough. Maybe I'll get good tips.
The point is that I dream about Italy every night, and even as I'm awake my thoughts are always there. I hate living here but living there in my mind. It's too much. I need a distraction, and I am praying that I can somehow just live in the moment and enjoy it for what it is like I usually do, but it's this culture, and the people, and the lifestyle, and the values that are making this so difficult.
Roma, Roma, Roma, città di tante gente...
But it really is a difficult adjustment, and going from the streets of Trastevere to the boring suburbs of Long Island isn't very fun. I'm having trouble finding some balance in my diet as well. I'm never satisfied after a meal. I'm going to gain 50 pounds.
I'm dying for my Roman apartment and the smell Villa Pamphili as we are roasting in the sun. The lifestyle here is just too different, and it is not one that I am willing to adjust to anymore.
I'm not even allowed to drink legally. How stupid is that? I go from drinking bottles of wine with a group of loud Italians on the steps of Piazza Trilussa, to getting carded? CARDED? It just seems like such a stupid argument.
As far as a job goes, I might be a waitress at this Italian restaurant if I can get it. I need to make some serious money this summer, because my bank account is lacking. I'm good looking enough. Maybe I'll get good tips.
The point is that I dream about Italy every night, and even as I'm awake my thoughts are always there. I hate living here but living there in my mind. It's too much. I need a distraction, and I am praying that I can somehow just live in the moment and enjoy it for what it is like I usually do, but it's this culture, and the people, and the lifestyle, and the values that are making this so difficult.
Roma, Roma, Roma, città di tante gente...