About to land in Paris, then a few hours before my long flight home. The general recap, all though there will be several, is that I didn’t meditate at all or even reflect as much as I had expected to. That is not an admission of failure, it’s an example of why expectations aren’t useful. It was a wonderfully indulgent trip. Not necessarily in the sense of giving in to all my desires (although I ate more gelato and cheese than I ever normally would in a week). It was all about me and what I wanted on a moment-to-moment basis. Life as a Mommy doesn’t permit me to live that way very often. Fortunately for me, I love being a Mommy so that action in itself is a treat.
My trip was a feast for the senses. Taste: obviously. The food was simpler and more spontaneous. Italians approach food differently. There was the rugged leather-wearing bike rider who popped in the hole-in-the-wall bar for a Panini and a glass of house Chianti that he consumed on the sidewalk in about 3 minutes before he was off again. Not rushing…just feeding himself. Then there is the middle-aged restaurant owner who encouraged me to order and savor each course--appertivo, prima, Segundo, and dessert. I declined because it was just too much food for me but he took pride in his ingredients, in his culture, and in seeing his guests indulging in his recipes. Besides loading up on fresh veggies for the next week, because I missed them and to help with my digestion, I wonder how this experience will alter my eating habits, if at all. I’ll still enjoy a big mug of coffee or two. And I brought home some olive oil, yummy balsamic vinegar, and sea salt with truffles to experiment with. I can’t wait for that.
Sight: the sight of the buildings made of stone centuries ago really makes me feel like I am in a different place. The permanence of it. And the detail and care put in to every structure--not just the Duomos and publicly commissioned work. (more to come on senses…)
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