There are certain time-honored traditions in Italian society that have been around since before Italy was, well, Italy. The drinking of wine with meals, the afternoon reposo, and excessive consumption of carbohydrates are excellent Italian institutions. But my favorite has nothing to do with food or sleeping (oddly enough); it’s the passageata. When the sun begins to set and the Orvietani wake from the peaceful slumber only experienced at reposo, they get a little dressed up and take to the streets to reconnect after a day at work or school. It is the time to see and be seen. It is beautiful to witness the joy on the faces of the people when they meet in the street. It’s unbridled and genuine and it fills me with a sense of well-being. At the same time, I can’t help but feel a little sad that I’m not able to be a part of it all, not in the same way. But I make do and enthusiastically greet classmates that are also out roaming around. The passageata is where one finds the true heart of Italy, in its people.

In unrelated school news, this coming week will be the last of my poetry course. Who knew I could write poetry? I might be persuaded to post some of my work after I’m finished with revisions. We’ll see how brave I’m feeling at the end of it all.

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