The Camino Gypsy Chronicles: La Fine

Italian 'Welcome' mat.

'Parting is such sweet sorrow'... I never understood that phrase. Where does the 'sweet' part come in? Every time Hannes and I wrap our arms around each other in front of sour faced Customs officials at SFO or BRU and leave tear tracks on each other's shoulders, all I feel is the 'sorrow.' If there is any sweet to be had, it was not in our farewell, but in the final days of our Italian Honeyloon as we tried to milk every last drop of our time together amongst the olive trees.

You know you want this to be you.

Leaving the beautiful chaos that is Rome, Hannes, Emily and I headed North to Orvieto through some of the most beautiful countryside I've ever laid my well-traveled eyes on. As the van whipped around the corners of twisting roads and the smell of our La Renella focaccia bread wafted from its alluring cardboard box, we breathed a sigh of contentment... and hunger. A sigh which turned to glee as we found our way to Azienda Agricola Cioccoleta - a magical agriturismo B&B nestled in acres of luminous green vineyards and orchards. We sipped a free bottle of their Orvieto Classico while chatting with the husband and wife who ran this oasis and watching the sun slip behind the hills for its own siesta. That night I practiced my Italian in the streets of Orvieto to snag us a reservation at the most popular restaurant in town, Trattoria La Palomba. As the words flew gracefully out of my mouth, I looked back at a stunned Hannes and Emily who smiled and patted me on the back for a translation well done. So far I had come! From blubbering idiot to semi-intelligible. Not bad for a month's work.

At the time we thought this adorable.

The following day we ate a leisurely breakfast of homemade cakes and then wandered through Orvieto in search of picnic delights and limoncello. The three of us indulged in our last gelatos together and then said our goodbyes. Even though I knew I'd see my roommate back in SF, leaving Emily was a symbol that the fun was almost over, so it was with a heavy heart that Hannes and I got back into the van without our pint-sized backseat passenger. The Saturnia hot springs, however, lifted our spirits - along with turning Hannes' wedding ring from gold to blue to purple to green (nothing a little silver polish couldn't fix back on mom's farm.) Although it's merely a chemical sulfur reaction, we took it as a symbol of love's constant evolution and the unexpected twists and turns of travel.

That night my Camino Love and I spent cuddled up in the van, drinking Rosolio and champagne, eating porcini pasta and listening to the rain on the roof as wind shook us gently back and forth (add to that, pretending that we didn't wreak of sulfur.) The last two days of driving were rough - thunderstorms coupled with a tunnel closure in Switzerland and a night spent at a truck stop hoping we weren't mugged. But we had each other, if only for a few more days - basking in the sweetness of our Honeyloon and wishing that the sorrow would never come.

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