Sometimes

Sometimes Italian get on my nerves. I mean, you walk down the street, and they never move over to give you room. They just slam into you.  They whistle at you when you walk through a square, (which I used to be flattered by and now just annoys me.) They eat pasta and pizza everyday. And they think that is healthy. Yes, sometimes Italians drive me crazy.

But sometimes, Italians make me love them. They offer to buy me coffee often. I have never been bought coffee more than here, and that's saying a lot. Sure the fact that a cappuccino from the local café is $1 and the soy salted caramel Frappuccino from Starbuck is $4.50, may make a bit of a difference, but I am shocked how often I get a free coffee.

Sometimes Italians buy me lunch. Score.

Sometimes Italians give you an automatic sense of intimacy, as if you have known them for years, not just 6 months.

Sure sometimes they get frustrated when I can understand what they are saying. But sometimes they are patient with me, and encourage me to learn.

Sometimes, still I crave a Soy Vanilla Chai Latte with a double shot of Espresso in the classic cup with the green lady. But sometimes I am content with being in Italy.

On that note, tomorrow I head to Spain. Hey, I said SOMETIMES.