Happy Shouts with a Moderate Side of Pesto

A great deal has transpired, and therefore there is a great deal to be said. However, there is little time to say it in, and so we'll have to be content with whatever drifts to the surface of my psyche at present.

Today, walking past the Duomo to sup on polenta and crema cotta, I met my old friend Monsieur A -- a gentleman who's consistently been making me smile since I first met him in Paris at the age of 10. Our relationship has been fleeting and mysterious, but I am exceedingly glad that he's a part of my life. If you see him on your various travels, make sure to let me know. He promises postcards, but is notoriously unreliable.

Italy (among other things at present) has stolen my heart. I've met a continuous stream of magical, lovely people and can't stop myself from smiling all the time at the beauty of my surroundings. Between the food, the architecture, the language, and the sunshine, I am in a state of constant bliss. A great deal of time is devoted to not spending great wadges of cash on stationary -- which was assisted (until now) by the total lack of cash on my personage. My wallet was not recovered, so living was precarious for my week in Roma. Fortunately, my replacement bank card has arrived and so (for better or worse) I may now access my funding once more. So far I haven't blown the remainder of my savings on leather journals and sealing wax, but it's a close thing.

Highlights from Roma included attending a Carnivale Libre in Poggio Mirteto (A small mountain town northeast of the city), being treated to "The Never-Ending Dinner" with my charming Couchsurfing hostess, Nathalie, writing the final words on the last page of my journal, watching cats ruling over ruins in the Area Sacra Argentina, sleeping in the sun, and tasting the world's most blissful gelato under a crescent moon. To pause for a moment on this last item: My two scoops of heaven were "Cream, lavender, and chamomile" atop "Rosehips with Orange Blossoms." I can assure you it was every bit as blissful as it sounds. Other gastronomic delights included ice cold limoncello, mirto, and moscato rosé, amaretto, pasta pappardelle with shrimp and fresh tomatoes, grilled spigola with potatoes, and porchetta sandwiches. Oh goodness. I seem to be salivating again.

Stumbling upon the Pantheon is enough to set one reeling with delight, but if that isn't enough there are a thousand twisting alleyways to explore -- each one full of eccentric balconies, cascading ferns, tumbledown restaurants, and secret stores full of unimaginable delights. It's a paradise. For perspective, the view over the city from the Monumento a Giuseppe Garibaldi is beyond belief, and the mountains and valleys in the surrounding countryside are full of picturesque late afternoon light, green fields, and shimmering olive groves.

I arrived here in Firenze last night, quite tired and deliriously happy, to be met by my current hosts Holly and Cassiope. Obviously, people who envelop you with hugs the moment you step off your train are good company. I have not been disappointed. Not only with them, but with every Couchsurfer encountered in this country. It's the most affirming experience I can imagine -- especially because the whole concept seems impossible when held against the chaotic state of the world at present. In spite of everything, it works. As simple as that. Upheld by legions of generous, friendly people who will go out of their way to point you in the right direction or take you in when you have nowhere to go. Even if you already have somewhere to go, they'll do their best to lure you away to their couches instead. It's so magical that I forget it's not even costing me anything. Because even if it was, I'd pay.

The door of my current abode opens into the bustling centre of the San Lorenzo market, and the flat is shared by nine people, plus a variety of guests. Between Couchsurfers, significant others, friends, and relatives, the place is packed and full of laughter all the time. Nothing can go wrong in such a utopia. I have a feeling this city will be good for my spirit.

Also in the "Good for My Spirit" department: Anticipation. I've found that (yet another) great thing about this journey has been the discovery that I really and truly love having things to look forward to. Flights, reunions, new horizons, excursions, homecomings -- If I can line up enough wonderful future occurrences, my world will never be without exuberance and joy. They can range from enjoying a piece of fresh fruit every morning, to crossing multiple countries for the sake of fleeting bliss. At present, between exploring Italy, being reunited with my Cambridge compatriots, seeing my family, returning to Ojai in the spring, and sallying forth on the tall ship sailing summer adventure of a lifetime, I seem to have done quite well. (This will most likely be counted as one of those "Lasting Gap-Year Impressions" in months and years to come…)

This evening we're engaging in Scrabbly madness at the Irish Pub where Holly works (after delicious vegan dining -- we picked out fresh vegetables from the market this morning), and tomorrow will bring new and unusual adventures. I'm contemplating taking to the hills for a few nights before I return to Roma, and so have been in touch with various hosts living in marvelous Tuscan countryside oases.

It all remains to be seen, but whatever happens: Life is beyond beautiful. I forget sometimes, but right now it's never been more obvious.