The first day we arrived in Rome, out coordinators Brenda brought us to a little café owned by a very enthusiastic Italian man. That day, and every other day we came in we were greeted with long ayyyy’s and hello friends of Brenda. Unsure of how the entire process worked, I eyed out a sandwich that looked good. It had mozzarella cheese, clumps of spinach, tomato, and thin crispy bread. The owner saw me looking at it and insisted that I try it. I sat down and the sandwich was pressed and heated to make the cheese melt between the spinach and tomato. I sat down with some new-found friends and took a bite out of my first Italian meal. It was amazing. The tomatoes were in small slices, and tasted remarkably sweet compared to back home. The spinach was a color unlike what I’m used to: a bright radiant green. Seasoned and fresh, I didn’t think spinach could taste so good. The cheese brought the whole meal together, complimenting the different tastes and textures in the sandwich. After I was done, me and a friend decided to order real Italian coffee, which means espresso. I had a few sips that tasted remarkable strong, but still very flavorful. I ended up loosing a game of what are the odds (like a dare game) so I had to down the whole shot of espresso. I let it cool down then shot it back in one gulp. That sure woke my jet-lagged-self up a little. The food was great, the coffee was great, but what you learn in Rome is that meals aren’t just about the food, but about the memories and conversations that come with it.

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