I got up at the crack of dawn – no, actually, well before the crack of dawn – on Saturday morning and started my trip back to Rome. On Sunday morning, after a turbulent landing, my final flight touched down in Rome. It was pouring and intensely grey, exactly the kind of weather I had been so fed up with before leaving, but it still felt good to be back. Now I've been awake for about 33 hours and nothing is making much sense anymore (probably including this caption), but I need to resist sleeping at a weirdly early hour or I'll just end up plunging myself into a terrible jet-lagged cycle. Can I make it through dinner without falling asleep on my plate? Who knows.
Scenes like this make me extra-happy that I can do almost all of my grocery shopping at outdoor markets heaped with fresh produce. I’m still out of Rome right now and am currently subsisting mostly on restaurant salads (or the healthiest-looking thing on the menu), but I can never wait to get back into my usual market shopping routine when I get back.
Right now I’m out of Rome again, back in still-snowy Michigan for work this week and trying to beat the jet lag with a series of coffees (it’s not working). Even though I’ve made this trip several times now, the contrasts between Rome and a small American town still hit me hard - it’s different in just about every possible way.
All it takes is a day or two of sun and suddenly everyone's sitting at the outdoor tables, hopeful that spring is just around the corner.
If there's one thing Rome does very well, it'd have to be the drama. There's always drama.
A grey way to start off a new week. I feel like it's been ages since I've seen the sun! 🌧