Rome 2022

Enjoy this little slice of sweet, Italian heaven.

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There’s something so special about taking off for a trip.

Doe-eyed with hope and mind flooded with every possibility for the memories you are about to make. The air feels lighter, the music sweeter, the sleep much more restless, it’s euphoric. Then, you land. The plane hits the ground and that shaky landing creates a feeling of chaos that feels as though it will never fade. Some call it, first day jitters: getting settled, exploring, getting your bearings, surviving off of google maps, the works. But to me, this is imposter syndrome. Whenever I get to a new place, especially when I am abroad, the feeling of being a completely different person instantly takes over my mind. Suddenly, I am no longer Peyton Ellison from Kentucky, I am your local beach girl ready for her taco and margarita, I am a pro-skier and have no plans of drinking hot chocolate because that is for the tourists, I am Miss Italy and act like saying buenasuerte to everyone makes me a local instantaneously. Yet, there is also a feeling of complete and utter displacement. A feeling like you don’t belong and everyone around you seems to recognize it.

Today is June 16th, 2022 and I am now two days deep into Rome. Rome is a dream. No, literally, it feels unreal. Like a far-off land that feels tangible yet at the back of your mind, you know is so distant. I walk the cobblestone streets with my own two feet yet there is a feeling, a preconception, I cannot seem to shake.

Rome is busy to say the least. Vespas flying down the roads, and mini-coopers who seem as though they couldn’t care less if you are a speed bump or a human-being. Yet there is a certain type of magic beneath the busy, the hustle. Woven between the big city feel lies the real Rome, the Rome I think it is worth the 9 hour flight.

We dropped into Rome at 2 o’clock on a Wednesday. That is peak heat, peak rush hour, and peak feeling of pure terror. My first impression of Rome left me feeling, well, overwhelmed. The chaos distracted from its beauty but the gelato, yeah that made up for it. It’s safe to say that in my grave, I will need only a few things: a venti iced coffee from Starbucks, the half and half cannoli from the Manusco at Trevi Fountain, and a pistachio gelato from Don Nino. If you don’t trust me, you’ll just have to find out for yourself. Speaking of things the angels will have to haul up to heaven with me, the Cacio e Pepe from Piccolo Mundo. It was in this moment, mid-bite, that I might as well have died. Nothing will ever compare to the pecorino romano cheese and salty crumbs of Parmesan that this pasta was drowning in. I don’t think I will ever get over it.

Needless to say, the food is amazing. That is a no-brainer. But what has truly amazed me about Rome is the small things: the tiny alleyways that hold treasures of the best food euros can buy, the woman who speaks to you at the convenience store and makes sure you are picking the best wine, the server at Venchi who makes sure you have extra gelato in your cup, the tour guide who seamlessly tells you the most astronomical facts about St. Peter’s basilica, the cappuccinos you devour from the hole in wall cafe you find on your morning walk, the man who gives you free shots of limoncello and claims it’s “for the experience” and on the house. It is the little pieces of beauty that make me want to come back. The tourist attractions are there for a reason, but Rome is about the moments. Yes, Trevi Fountain at night with your plastic cups and bottle of wine while you throw your euros over your shoulders and make your wildest of wishes is an experience like no other. However, the things that made me want to come back were the palaces like Trastevere and Campo de-Fiori. These two small neighborhoods were lined with roads of ivy stretching to the tiny apartment walls, little twinkle lights, and bars as old as your mothers grandmother’s grandmothers’ third cousin. It is about the history, the art, the feeling that you are in a place full of so much beauty and so many things to be grateful for. It is a place that makes you think. A place that allows you to reflect on the things that seem so normal for us in today's world: architecture, design, time, hard-work, simplicity, it makes you want to take a little slice of its culture back home with you. But, what we should do, and what I hope to do,

is leave a little slice of me here.