Ritorno a Sorrento

If you are planning on visiting Italy, and if you are anything like me, you will wake up every morning and try to convince yourself that you are, in fact, in Italy. It won't work though. I tried pinching myself, splashing cold water on my face, even a quick smack on my cheeks. Nothing worked.

So how do you know you are actually in Italy? After physical violence didn't work, I tried looking for other signs to make sure I wasn't dreaming a fabulous dream of good food, great landscapes, and wonderful people.

Is it because your toilet was made by Ferrari? No, that's totally normal, right?


Is it because your hotel bathroom was designed by Versace? Still dreaming.


Is it because I saw priests and nuns every other block? Nope, that happens all the time at FOCUS National Conference.


Is it because your feet hurt from playing soccer on rocky beaches? No, please, my feet hurt when I'm wearing cleats on turf. But I am also a wimp.


Is it because everyone is speaking Italian? No,  I could be in little Italy in New York, or maybe international week at my university.


Is it because I couldn't understand the Italian homily at Mass? No, sometimes I don't understand them in English, especially if there is an adorable baby in front of me.


Is it because I gained at least a million pasta pounds? I think I do the same thing annually in November and December with baked goods and ham.


Is it because I have scooter butt? If you are wondering what scooter butt is, let me define it for you: it is when you have ridden on the back of a scooter for an hour, and you can no longer feel your body from the waist down. And no, this gives me no indication of my global position because I got a very similar sensation my family lovingly calls numb-butt, from ridiculously long road trips throughout my childhood.


Is it because all the men I see are more fashionable than me? Nope, that seems to be a pretty common occurrence.


Is it because I am inundated with American pop culture? This gives me zero indication about where I am in the world.


Is it because of that time I "accidentally" walked into adoration, and Jesus said "Ciao, la mia bella figlia", and I understood exactly what he meant, even though I don't speak Italian? Yep. That's it. I'm in Italy.