Travel Stories

I always tell my boyfriend that he met me at a very strange time in my life. When he approached me, I wasn’t thinking about whether the encounter would evolve into a relationship, a thought so unlike my former self (who always searched for connections to soothe the feeling of disconnection in my gut). I remember the first story I told him.That summer, I had gone to Naples with my parents and a family friend named Isabel, a cabbage-scented old woman whose late husband Agostino, had been raised in Naples. She hadn't gone to Naples for over fifteen years and wanted to reminisce about the early days of her marriage and those splendid days spent with her Agostino. One night, we decided to have dinner at a small trattoria. I ordered gnocchi to appear adventurous. I had never tried gnocchi before. These petite, thick, flour balls however, didn't settle well in my stomach. The next day, my parents reassured me that I could stay in bed, but I could not let those bland flour gnocchi ruin my vacation. We took the train toward the more industrial part of Naples and my motion sickness was amplified by my already upset stomach. When we arrived, Isabel suggested we sit at a bakery so I could rest. I felt horrible and asked my father to find a pharmacy and buy a medication to rid me of the nausea. The waitress brought us salted pretzels as we waited for my father. He arrived with an orange powdered substance in a pouch. He poured it into water and asked me to gulp down. As soon as I finished the orange water, I had this unbelievable urge to vomit. I told my dad I needed to go to the bathroom. We went into the bakery (we were seated outside) and before I managed to reach the restroom,I vomited on the floor. I heard my father sigh and a woman started yelling at me in Italian. She waved her hands at me, and I couldn't understand her. I walked out with my father and he looked at my mom and Isabel and said, "We should go." He left a tip and we took the train back to provincial Naples. I remember the train ride back because I felt new and the powder had triggered a second urge, an urge in me to discover my being. "Who are you?," my boyfriend asked. And I said, "I'm not sure, but I'm born every second."Isabel later confessed that Agostino proposed to her in the bakery and that it was the site of many a good thing. I suppose it is the site of my rebirth and I am humbled to say that I am one of the very few to have ever vomited inside a little bakery in Naples, Italy.