Writing Assignment #4

Here I am sitting on the train. There are people everywhere. Talking on their phones, listening to music so loud I'm sure that everyone in the cabin can here. There might have been beautiful things outside, hills, valleys, but I wouldn't know. Looking out the window everything is gray and foggy... it reminds me of a scene from The Mist. Graffiti covers the seats, windows, walls, everything. It doesn't smell bad, but there is definitely a smell going on. This is the slow train. Disappointment sweeps through my body. I will be on this train for another hour. It hasn't even been five minutes and I'm miserable. Oh well, soon I will be in Rome. Campo number 46 has been my home for about a month now. I know where to go to buy milk, the best place for a coffee, places to get amazing gelato, sandwiches, pasta, everything. It was my home… I could navigate, and manage there. Why don't I feel excited to go back?

As some very suspicious looking boys ran through my cabin, I think about what this means. Its not that I don't think as Rome as my home, because a large part of me does. The thing I was struggling with was having to leave Orvieto to get there. There has never been a place in the world as amazing as Orvieto. Where it smells like vanilla and camp fire. Where all the people smile when they see you. Where local artists thrive, with shops on every corner. No graffiti, no crowded streets, no obnoxious alarms that go off at the brink of dawn. I loved Orvieto. Getting on this train was probably one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I could have stayed there forever. Like the place in movies where you move to fix up some old house in the country, and just by luck the man next door is a beautiful, charming, and secretly some sort of royalty. Ha that's a bit unrealistic, but Its sort of the feel this old town gives me. The Medieval streets make it feel almost like something that popped out of a children’s book. Orvieto is the kind of place where I could just crawl into... and never leave.

But Alas life calls, and here I sit on this crap hole of a train. With filthy windows, and the seat in front of me shouting profanities. Watching my bag slide half way across the floor, I picture my self, getting off the train. Trying to throw my bag out the door, because its physically impossible to get down the two steps and a huge gap off the train holding so much luggage. Now having to walk across the station to the bus stop. Where of course either of the buses I need to take the 64 or the 40 are known for their pick pocketing. And there I will be, a perfect target. With my oversized purse, backpack, and rolly suitcase they know I have some goods. Being about 5'4" its completely obvious I am unable to handle all of the baggage I bring. Thinking about this situation makes me shutter. Trying to push it out of my head I picture where I could still be. In my hotel room, taking a nice hot bath in my amazing tub. Going down the street to get a coffee where the man at the counter puts in a little something extra when he decorates my plain espresso with chocolate art. Walking along the city walls and looking down on all of the rolling hills of Umbria. I almost burst it to tears I missed it so much already.

So interestingly enough, when I was assigned this writing prompt I thought I knew what I was going to say. I can’t wait to be back in Rome, this place that has become my home. Florence is beautiful but my room is freezing, I hate waking up and not being able to feel my nose. But that’s not how I feel at all. What I would give to be able to crawl away from reality, and stay back in Orvieto. Leave everything behind and just live. I am not excited or happy to be going back to the real world. I know I have to, and I will push through it. Orvieto will always be somewhere.. In my dreams