Or in my case, live like an Italian…..
Once again, I found myself this morning in that dark room spinning my fanny off at 5:30am. Kim, Heather and I pondered a few of life’s questions as we were setting up our bikes. Those thoughts, along with Heather’s dead stares of “why am I here at 5:15am?”, lead me to this question: Would an Italian from the Cinzano Cycling Team respect a fellow countryman/woman who rides a bike without feeling that salty Mediterranean breeze on her face; who is not dodging traffic on her bike between speeding Fiats and Alfa Romeo speedsters over roads with cliffs to the blue sea below? I would think not.
The Italian people that I met would not think of grabbing a cappuccino in a to-go mug coupled with a banana and peanut butter on the way to a gym to ride a bike, indoors, none-the-less. Not in a country where multitasking is driving a 5 speed at 100 mph while smoking and flirting with the person in the next car. (and Dear God, those Italian men are handsome)
I need to revisit my roots. Perhaps a trip to Cappiello’s tomorrow morning will reset my inner heritage clock. I do love being Italian but it is a lot to live up to. A woman in Italy once told me, “you know, Italians are not all ‘O Solo Mio’ and pizza. We have art, and food and wine and education.” My ancestors, Amelia, Luigi, Vincenzo, Carmela, Concetta and Angela would agree.
Yikes. I am not all that…..
…….but I can make a mean pasta con melanzane e mascarpone.