Previously posted photographs
- 298: Florence, Italy.
- 297: Blue Waters, Durban, South Africa.
- 296: Family, Bo-Kaap.
- 295: Watering hole, Madikwe Game Reserve, South Africa.
- 294: Rovinj, Croatia.
Train station, Italy
My first memories of Italy are from Fellini films. I remember watching La Dolce Vita and admiring the look and style of Rome, even as I nodded off now and again. I had seen Roman Holiday, but Fellini's Rome was more visceral than that of William Wyler's, and I finally felt as though I had caught a glimpse of that city. I wanted to follow down the alleys and hang in the piazzas and stay up all night to wake in the center of a traffic circle watching the sun filter through the monuments as it rose.
My first trip to Rome was over ten years ago. I met some friends and spent a few days there before taking an overnight train to Paris. It was a quick trip, and somewhat unplanned. A friend had moved there to teach English and one night we stayed up late in her apartment talking of her new life. She had met a boy that she liked, but she was unsure, and we talked even after putting the light out, our voices traversing the length of her new home.
On this trip, I met the boy, now her husband and their son. We ate at a restaurant near the Spanish Steps that they knew. The sidewalks were empty, a welcome respite from the more touristed areas, and we caught up over a simple shared meal. Afterwards, we lingered over glasses of limoncello. The waiter left the flask on the table, and we served ourselves, pouring out the liquor into our small glasses. Around us, Rome slept.