unpacking, or after the facts

Packing, they say, is an art. Unpacking might merit this questionable status as well. I accomplish the former with far more aplomb than the latter. In my living room sit three still-filled bags from my recent trip to Connecticut. On the floor of my bedroom a pile of material from Italy, including cards from hotels, restaurants, gelaterias, awaits my attention. The overflow seems endless. The other day I pulled a card out of my wallet. What's this? I asked myself. Ah! It was Fellini's favorite restaurant near Rimini. Our guide had given it to me when I told her I loved Fellini.

Once I sort through this stuff, I will be able to string together the facts in the form of proper names, the restaurant in Rome with the surly waiter where, if blog reports are to be believed, Julia Roberts filmed scenes for a movie this spring, the name of the jewelry store, also in Rome, with a beguiling seahorse charm in the window, the name of the pizzeria in the photograph in the previous post, and so on.

The picture: A table of spices and seasonings at Campo del Fiori in Rome. Isaac and I went in search of arrabbiatta for my best friend's husband. I bought myself a kilo as well. I also got some puttanesca. I wish I'd bought more. But I stopped there, uncertain whether I would be allowed to bring unsealed products through customs. Note to self: I was.

The sweeps: Here's one for a three-day session at the David Beckham Academy in the U.K. To enter, click HERE.