An Italian grocery store is nothing like a grocery store in the US. For one thing, a bottle of drugstore shampoo costs €2.5, or $4. That's no bargain. But more importantly, if someone were to take a plane from Jewel-Osco directly to ____ (which is where we were), it would look like the major food groups in Italy were wine, cheese and pasta, whereas the major food group in America is "prepackaged." That's not a bad thing. It seems Italian people eat much fresher ingredients, shop more often and cook more. It's a nation of slimmer people: the women are thin and tanned, and the men wear fairly tight pants (None of that gangsta-falling-off-the-ass-revealing-boxers-and-bling business. That won't fly.) There are no bars or clubs in Verona, but the coffee shops don't close until past 2 am, and the coffee is strong. Working at Cafe Ambrosia, I drank three shots of espresso in a couple hours and felt nothing. This morning I drank a cup of Italian coffee and was wired all through the morning class. And that coffee came out of a vending machine. The real thing is even darker.

At the monastery we cooperate to prepare meals. I'm going to making beef and pasta for a bunch of people. I bought a Chianti to serve with the meal and some vegetables to make a salad. I figured out the gas stove and poured everyone shots of whiskey on ice as an appetizer. I felt adult, until I stepped out onto the balcony and remembered I couldn't even read the street signs.