Nutella - making peanut butter look dumb

Three things I've learned so far:

1. I will never again fly through Heathrow. Just no. Gah! and ew.

I'll spare you the rant I crafted while running to and from Departure screens at Heathrow searching desparately for my gate 20 minutes prior to my flight. Mostly it was just me asking no one in particular how it was possible that my flight hadn't been assigned a gate yet when I was supposed to have boarded the plane minutes earlier. Of course, once we finally were assigned a gate I had to queue with 900 other crazed Rome travelers in a dark narrow hallway and fight for position in front of three Italian men having an animated conversation about a "dirty girl" who they had met while in London. I'll spare you the details, but the conversation involved all the bad words I learned during my last visit.

2. Roman drivers are exactly as terrifying as I remember. And, yet still, I have all my limbs.

I first must say that I can't be more grateful for the fact that I have extremely generous and hospitable hosts that are always waving and cheering at the uschita when I come out of the baggage claim. It is a warm and exciting reception and something I look forward to for all twelve hours of my flight. However, the exit from the airport onto the highways of Rome never fails to get my blood pumping. You can imagine my enhanced excitement when I saw that Ale, my friends fiance and one of my world class hosts had just purchased a new car. Basically a cruise missile mascarading as an Alpha Romeo. Granted, the shock of haphazard Roman driving wears off after the first hour or so in the car during my trips, but at first, its a jolt to the apparently calm and rational American driver in me. You know the one who expects to see lane lines painted on the freeway and such. I remember this in quiet horror as we exit the airport parking lot as if shot from a cannon. Why no lane lines? Why so much swerving? How is everyone still walking the city with all their limbs? I guess one can not question the existence of miracles.

3. Nutella makes peanut butter look like a chump.

Putting Nutella on a freshly baked pastry and serving it with cappuccino is nothing short of genius. Why anyone would eat peanut butter when Nutella is readily available is beyond me. Peanut butter is obviously the red-headed stepchild to Nutella and the US is wildly misguided in its allegience to the stuff. Who needs jelly when you can just put Nutella on bread and call it a day. Shelley has informed me that during Christmas they sell the stuff by the gallon in a container with a handle. I'm so sad that it is only October and that they didn't mention this phenomenon last time I was here. Which, coincidentally was during Christmas. Damn shame.

So, clearly, I'm here. And everything is as it should be. I've already said, "I can't believe this is real" approximately five hundred times while looking out over Arcinazzo from their mountainside home, staring up at the ceilings of a monastary from the middle ages and when staring at the brontosauras steaks Ale cooked alla brace last night.

And for those keeping score, I've spoken approximately five words of Italian since my arrival because I'm a wimpy coward. I vow to right my ways. Starting now.

Ciao!