Field Notes from Italy

Ruminations ❧ Letter 3

I. Immediately: the sun has scooped her arms around Milan’s belly and cradles the city in her hot embrace. I feel her warmth on my neck and brow: sticky, humid kisses.

II. I’ve been rolling Italian phrases over my tongue, toying with their rich linguistic flavours, all of them so novel and decadent. I sing out ‘buongiorno’s and ‘per favore’s like a child showing off the big new words they just learned, a silly grin plastered across my face to match. I have three weeks to practice!

III. Blink twice. Smile. Gawk. Smile again.

IV. Pistachio will forever taste like summer now. Pistachio gelato, coffee, pasta, cannoli, cassatine, brioche, granita, chocolate, cassata, tiramisu, biscuits...the list goes on. I indulged in them all.

V. There’s something magical about coming from a comparatively young country and seeing that everything in the textbooks, the movies, the songs and the novels is very, very real. Centuries-old monuments on your walk to get coffee. Local chapels quietly adorned in mosaic and gold on the corner. Paintings seeking shelter in stone alcoves, protected by glass and a family of pigeons. A pseudo-modern world with technological advancement grappling through cities built by artists. Admittedly, I feel like both the artist and the outcast here.

VI.

Stained glass windows

glimmer like rainbow ghosts,

their stories whispered in sun specks

and carried atop dust motes

…

VII. Back home I drink mochas, but here it is “un cafe macchiato, per favore”, a small, bittersweet sip of ambrosia. Needless to say, I’ve been converted.

VIII. My eyes have glistened with pearlescent tears more than once here. There is so much beauty to take in and sometimes it simply spills over onto my cheeks. My artistic cup is full and overflowing between the duomos, the theatres, the museums and the galleries. To be surrounded by so. much. art. feels like walking through a daydream.

IX. When the sun woke up and hummed its good morning over lake como, I caught a glimpse of the ethereal and held my breath.

X. The cobblestone streets are dimpled from years of motorcycles and vespas resting in the Italian sunshine. I wonder how many people these streets have guided on their evening walks, how many dogs have sniffed their curbs, and how many Aperols and coffees have been sipped in good company on their wobbly paths. I think of all the side streets I’ve ventured down, pebbles I’ve tripped over, and worn down, wonky stairs I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. Centuries of footprints overlap in a show of adoration and decadence. I hold dear to my heart the knowledge that my own steps have added a new layer of love to the picture.

XI. Okay so, you’re laying back in the salty embrace of Spiagge di Cefalù, floating in the muffled underwater sing-song, the waves gently rock your resting vessel to shore, and you’re forgetting to exist as you for one sweet, small, solitary moment…

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My heart is so full.

To know that Ruminations is going out to over 100 people today, just 3 posts in, is absolutely wild to me. Thank you thank you thank you. Coming home from my whirlwind holiday to find that I have so many people waiting for their next letter had me jittering in delight and anticipation. I have SO many ideas for future posts and I wish I could tell you all about them but I really mustn’t spill my secrets all at once. My proverbial lips are sealed. (For now).

All this to say, thank you for letting me share my writing with you, I’m so glad to have you here <3

Yours ephemerally,

Caitlin Ellis x