I traveled east forever. Yet even after I arrived in Italy, all that convinced me of my place was map. Not men and women on motorini, reckless daredevils unlike any I had known. Not little upstairs apartment on circle of old Roman amphitheatre. Not endless dinners and my stuffed belly.
Biggest meal of all-- lunch in Tuscan countryside with Signora- taught me where I was. Olives, salami, pasta, four meats, cheeses, salad, fruit, sweets, and winding walk through hills. "Una bella giornata in campagna," she smiled, crooked teeth showing. No map could define my full stomach, new sense of place.