Carnevale

I woke up feeling like the desert and ended feeling like the ocean which, in my mind, are fairly equal entities as I had pieces of myself scattered everywhere, with my face catalogued behind millions of Italian cameras.

Corrine and I ran into Carnevale. We were shopping on the main artery in Central Roma and, by the time we got out of H&M, the parade was going full force. Confetti burst through in the air, kids sprayed silly string, and a soundtrack of animal noises surrounded us: this is what it’s like to be 5 years old in Rome.

It was a family event. Children were on parent’s shoulders wearing ears like Topolino, and throwing glitter like fairy godmothers. Seeing Rome compounded at once, with the streets closed off and the Piazzo del Popolo jammed, was like the Renaissance Faire mixed with the Superbowl; all of Italy together to celebrate one giant event.

Rome is a city full of strangers. People come to watch the sun set on the colosseum, and bring their native language with. Everyone still echoes back first-world communication, but at Carnevale everything spoken was purely Italian. 

The parade looped around. Corrine and I ran to the other side of the street and let stanzas of princesses and ribbon dancers flow through our consciousness, while all around the crowd translated the same experience through a different language. It was an unreal feeling. A breeze waved glitter through the streets and Bravi! Bravi! We yelled extra loud.

After, we walked down Via del Corso and saw change, empty bottles and books scattered all over the ground.

“Centissimi per pensi?"

It was an open-air museum. A cardboard sign repeated “Penny for your thoughts?” in three different languages, a pool of coins stagnant next door. The museum was completed by a random Roman citizen. I saw it and, in a flash, knew how much Romans actually love their city. If you’re born in this town you never want to leave--taking that step away from leaving everything you know and never could know is heartbreaking. Italian life worships ancestory, and stepping out of God's navel is to become a lonely ruin, surrounded by glitter from Carnevale, but only hearing relatives telescoped through a far-away distance.