Skyped this afternoon with Anna and Eli – still can’t get over seeing those faces, hearing those much loved voices as if in the same room. While we talked, Anna gave Eli his lunch, and I said it looked delicious, and he said why didn’t I come over and have some? So we had to explain I was far away. As he ate fish sticks, avocado and rice, I asked how the weather is in Toronto. “It’s a li’l bit hot and a li’l bit cold,” he told me, which I’m sure sums it up. He and his momma went to Emerg yesterday – he was pale and had a severe stomachache. Diagnosis: constipation due to too much milk. Now he drinks diluted prune juice. As did my mother.
I am on the other side of the world from my loved ones. Hard sometimes; I ache to see them. I am in fact counting the days, even though it’s heavenly here. Only thirteen days until I can hold my boy.
It was wonderful not to do much in the latter part of the day – after so much walking, my feet hurt, and I’m worn out by so much beauty. Had a glass of wine in my room in the sun, but finally, at 7.45, needed to go and find some food. Through my on-line trolling, I’d learned that the Piazza Santo Spirito, on my side of the Arno, the left bank, was a happening place, and in the Guide du Routard I found a place there that sounded good. So headed off, in a city of thousands of restaurants, to find one, along the narrow streets, trying not to get hit by bicycles, cars, busses, passing ancient churches, tall magnificent old buildings, artisan workshops, countless trattorias.
I wasn’t looking forward to solo eating – I can do it and I will, but it’s far more fun to eat dinner with two – but the place was welcoming, a small restaurant with lots of tables right out in the beautiful piazza under the trees. They found me a table – ten minutes later there were lots of people standing waiting – and I found out the deal: from 7 to 9 every evening, you get a glass of something and as much as you can eat of the aperitivo nibbles, for 7 euros 50. A fantastic bargain. So I sat as the light dimmed to golden dusk in this medieval square, filling my plate with tomato salad, pasta, pate and cheese, drinking a glass of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo, and all I wanted was for Bruce to be there too. Especially as I sat next to two men, one Italian and one from San Francisco, with their 3 little white dogs, very friendly. Perhaps designers. I was in heaven.
So – the price for these spectacular experiences is homesickness, sometimes, and losing things, and hauling stuff around, and bad days and cold rain. But then comes joy.