Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 12

           Eitherway,Juniorsitsperchedatoptheirwrists,rightbetweenthem,unaffectedbytheirmerrimentorstrife,munchingonhisbunchofgrapes.Hislittleclovenhoofsdanglebelowhimasheeats.(Hetakesafterhisfather.)

           ItisearlySeptember,2003.Theweatheriswarmandlazy.Bythis,myfourthdayinRome,myshadowhasstillnotdarkenedthedoorwayofachurchoramuseum,norhaveIevenlookedataguidebook.ButIhavebeenwalkingendlesslyandaimlessly,andIdidfinallyfindatinylittleplacethatafriendlybusdriverinformedmesellsTheBestGelatoinRome.It’scalled"IlGelatodiSanCrispino."I’mnotsure,butIthinkthismighttranslateas"theicecreamofthecrispysaint."Itriedacombinationofthehoneyandthehazelnut.Icamebacklaterthatsamedayforthegrapefruitandthemelon.Then,afterdinnerthatsamenight,Iwalkedallthewaybackoverthereonelasttime,justtosampleacupofthecinnamon-ginger.

           I’vebeentryingtoreadthroughonenewspaperarticleeveryday,nomatterhowlongittakes.Ilookupapproximatelyeverythirdwordinmydictionary.Today’snewswasfascinating.Hardtoimagineamoredramaticheadlinethan"Obesita!IBambiniItalianiSonoiPiuGrassid’Europa!"GoodGod!Obesity!Thearticle,Ithink,isdeclaringthatItalianbabiesarethefattestbabiesinEurope!Readingon,IlearnthatItalianbabiesaresignificantlyfatterthanGermanbabiesandverysignificantlyfatterthanFrenchbabies.(Mercifully,therewasnomentionofhowtheymeasureupagainstAmericanbabies.

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