ms_magdalena

Told ya I'd take a picture. Voila, new plugs.




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We walked down the street and into the piazza. For the first time since we arrived, the sun was shining, and the weather was warm. The smell of the seafood street market in the midday rays was stinging our noses, combined with the thick odor of diesel exhaust suspended in the air. I saw a bucket of clams, fresh from the sea, shooting little streams over water skyward from within their tiny bi-valved shells. I giggled. You turned to look. It was too late.

Standing in front of that little trattoria, I turned around and around, taking everything in. The swerving scooters, the women smoking long, thin cigarettes. The highschool boy who slung his backpack over his shoulder just before looking me up and down and blowing kisses; at me, and every other girl in sight. But the light turned green, and he continued his walk home to his mama's.

It's the blend of old and new that's the most striking, however; the tall stone buildings built so long ago, all lit by neon signs and filled with modern couture. "Gelateria!" flashed in green and pink across one, and the painted window offered fourty-three different flavors. The narrow streets were barely wide enough to accomodate a single lane of traffic, and yet every other block gave up another little shop to buy foil-wrapped chocolate eggs, bottles of Fanta and "Diddle Maus" plush toys.

I turned around and saw your camera clicking fervently, pointed down a side street. From there, we had the most perfect view of Il Duomo, as bordered on both sides by towering medieval architecture. The lighting was perfect, and there were no throngs of tourists to block the view. Those pictures were going to be spectacular.

We entered the little building and sat on the hard, orange, plastic swivel chairs, after carrying our prize from the counter. You could taste the woodsmoke in every crispy bite, and the whole basil leaves gave an incredible fragrance to the cheese and sauce they covered. Memories in the making.

It was only when we were on the bus and headed back to our hidden jewel that you realized - you'd forgotten to load the film into the camera.

*fin