I'm starting to get homesick.
Lately the questions have been raised among people I've met in Hostels,
"How long have you been traveling?"
It's been nearly three weeks. And for some reason it feels like hours and also years. When I signed up for this/have been dreaming about it since I was at least an 8th grader I didn't really anticipate how terrifying/wonderful it is to be a drifter of sorts.
I never really place down roots. I don't really get to know people for longer than a few hours and it's starting to really get to me.
This probably isn't productive, or conducive to any type of healing process, but here are the things I miss about being back home:
Riding my bike around town (even though I have effectively been bike-less for about three months, you'd think I'd be used to it by now, but Italy is lousy with bikes and almost every day I see a happy looking well dressed woman riding an old fashioned cruiser like the one I left on the side of the road one day and groan audibly).
Pauly's Pocket (Falafel restaurant in my old college town, I went there almost every day for lunch and ordered the exact same thing. It got to the point where I would simply walk in and Pauly would start making my order (extra pickles, banana peppers, extra spicy, no olives) and then I would carry it up to the quad and eat it in a grassy spot. There is falafel here, but Italian falafel is no Pauly's).
Gritty's (Maine has the best beer in the world, and I've been in wine country for three weeks. I'm sick of wine, I want beer).
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