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I
picked
up
the
phone
,
whispered
hello
.
"
Great
news
!
"
my
lawyer
announced
from
distant
New
York
City
.
"
He
just
signed
it
!
"
A
few
weeks
later
,
I
am
living
in
Italy
.
I
have
quit
my
job
,
paid
off
my
divorce
settlement
and
legal
bills
,
given
up
my
house
,
given
up
my
apartment
,
put
what
belongings
I
had
left
into
storage
in
my
sister
’
s
place
and
packed
up
two
suitcases
.
My
year
of
traveling
has
commenced
.
And
I
can
actually
afford
to
do
this
because
of
a
staggering
personal
miracle
:
in
advance
,
my
publisher
has
purchased
the
book
I
shall
write
about
my
travels
.
It
all
turned
out
,
in
other
words
,
just
as
the
Indonesian
medicine
man
had
predicted
.
I
would
lose
all
my
money
and
it
would
be
replaced
immediately
-
or
at
least
enough
of
it
to
buy
me
a
year
of
life
.
So
now
I
am
a
resident
of
Rome
.
The
apartment
I
’
ve
found
is
a
quiet
studio
in
a
historic
building
,
located
just
a
few
narrow
blocks
from
the
Spanish
Steps
,
draped
beneath
the
graceful
shadows
of
the
elegant
Borghese
Gardens
,
right
up
the
street
from
the
Piazza
del
Popolo
,
where
the
ancient
Romans
used
to
race
their
chariots
.
Of
course
,
this
district
doesn
’
t
quite
have
the
sprawling
grandeur
of
my
old
New
York
City
neighborhood
,
which
overlooked
the
entrance
to
the
Lincoln
Tunnel
,
but
still
…
It
will
do
.
The
first
meal
I
ate
in
Rome
was
nothing
much
.
Just
some
homemade
pasta
(
spaghetti
carbonara
)
with
a
side
order
of
sauteed
spinach
and
garlic
.
(
The
great
romantic
poet
Shelley
once
wrote
a
horrified
letter
to
a
friend
in
England
about
cuisine
in
Italy
:
"
Young
women
of
rank
actually
eat
-
you
will
never
guess
what
-
GARLIC
!
"
)
Also
,
I
had
one
artichoke
,
just
to
try
it
;
the
Romans
are
awfully
proud
of
their
artichokes
.
Then
there
was
a
pop
-
surprise
bonus
side
order
brought
over
by
the
waitress
for
free
-
a
serving
of
fried
zucchini
blossoms
with
a
soft
dab
of
cheese
in
the
middle
(
prepared
so
delicately
that
the
blossoms
probably
didn
’
t
even
notice
they
weren
’
t
on
the
vine
anymore
)
.
After
the
spaghetti
,
I
tried
the
veal
.
Oh
,
and
also
I
drank
a
bottle
of
house
red
,
just
for
me
.
And
ate
some
warm
bread
,
with
olive
oil
and
salt
.
Tiramisu
for
dessert
.
Walking
home
after
that
meal
,
around
11
:
00
PM
,
I
could
hear
noise
coming
from
one
of
the
buildings
on
my
street
,
something
that
sounded
like
a
convention
of
seven
-
year
-
olds
-
a
birthday
party
,
maybe
?
Laughter
and
screaming
and
running
around
.
I
climbed
the
stairs
to
my
apartment
,
lay
down
in
my
new
bed
and
turned
off
the
light
.
I
waited
to
start
crying
or
worrying
,
since
that
’
s
what
usually
happened
to
me
with
the
lights
off
,
but
I
actually
felt
OK
.
I
felt
fine
.
I
felt
the
early
symptoms
of
contentment
.
My
weary
body
asked
my
weary
mind
:
"
Was
this
all
you
needed
,
then
?
"
There
was
no
response
.
I
was
already
fast
asleep
.
