Tonight I am downing a bottle of 3.60 euro delicious Salento red wine (i.e. incredibly strong wine) by myself, thanks to the tooth incident and my unwillingness to go out in the social public, and I am listening to some awesome jazz by a music professor I was once taught by at Stanford, and I am missing Austin, and my room, my sound system and my drumset, and my friends, and the comfort of everything familiar. It’s kind of fun though. Fun in the “I am really far away from home and everything I know” way, if that makes any sense at all. I guess it’s a very bittersweet night, but the jazz makes it all okay.
I’ve noticed something about myself and my relationship with this distance from the familiar: I love new adventures so much, that the weight of the factual doesn’t hit me until around this time, day 50 or so. The same thing happened in Spain. It’s not until now, when I start to feel a routine instead of a vacation, that I start missing the things I know.
Fact: Italians consume what I would estimate to be about 92% strictly Italian food. I have seen one solitary Chinese restaurant in Lecce since being here, and it looks to shady for me to be willing to try it out. I have seen only one other- a bar that serves both “American” and “Tex-Mex” food. Other than that, every single eating establishment is Italian. Since being here, there have been only 2 occassions on which I have had a meal which was not Italian, both of which were provided by lovely ‘Mericuh-tasting McDonalds. Don’t get me wrong- I am loving the Italian food and the authenticity of it here, but I come from America, where I could have a different culture’s food every night of the week, and it be legitimately tasty too. I am dying, DYING for a dinner other than Italian food. Luckily I’m not displeased at all with what I’ve been consuming, and thus far the wine and cheese in itself is making up for any longing I might have.
Anyway, time to get back to chatting with friends online and going upstairs at 3am to sneak some gelato out of the freezer. Yep, despite any longing I possess, there is most definitely a solid list of Italian advantages I can take comfort in.
Just imagine how good this gelato tastes. I’ll always have my drums I suppose. 
