Una Pozzanghera di Cappuccino (A Puddle of Cappuccino)

Puddles, Puddles, Puddles, and More Puddles. Drip-Drop, Drip-Drop, Drip-Drop. Rain hits the ground like the sound of espresso splashing in the bottom of a new white mug.

I have learned two lessons since returning to Florence. The first lesson is that November is the most rainy month of the year here, and the second lesson is that coffee shops don’t generally open here until 8:00am at the earliest, which means that when I left for school at 7:30am the other day, I nearly came up empty-handed--and also encountered many, many puddles.

As my search for a morning cup of joe dragged on, I began to imagine that the giant puddles were giant cups of cappuccino and that each drip was just another drop of perfection leading up to foamy fantasticness. And as each puddle grew, I imagined jumping in and submerging myself in each giant cup of cappuccino, doing the doggy paddle, bathing in it, and drowning my lungs in it. For if I truly drowned in a puddle of cappuccino, I think I might die the happiest person on earth.

As I came back to reality and discovered that I could not in fact turn the puddles of murky water into puddles of deliciousness, I continued my search for an open coffee shop. I finally stumbled upon Il Posto Café. There were quite a few people inside, so I figured it must be good—either that or it really was the only coffee shop open in all of Florence open.

I stepped inside the shop and suddenly felt the walls close in as four of us attempted to squeeze in at the standing bar. “Prendo un cappuccino per favore,” I said. I had hoped my long walk to find this open bar would be well worth it.

I turned to my right and I realized a nice Italian man was looking at me. He then said “Ciao.” I responded by saying “Bonjourno!” What I had truly wished to say was, “Do you wish to swim in cappuccino as well?” Unfortunately, I didn’t know enough words in Italian to get that point across, so instead, I laughed to myself at the thought of asking a complete stranger if he too wishes to drown in cappuccino. Not before long, my cappuccino was placed in front of me. “Va bene, grazie.”

I had searched for this cappuccino for so long yesterday…so much so that I had hallucinated about the puddles being cups of cappuccino like Wonka’s river of chocolate. That’s when you know you have an addiction.

I picked the cup up and took a sip.

“No va bene,” I thought. Burned coffee. It was my first bad cappuccino in Italy…My first euro and thirty cents gone to waste. It really must have been the ONLY coffee shop open.

Regardless, I finished the cappuccino, said “Grazie, Ciao,” and went on my way…jumping in a puddle with hopes that my hallucination would become real. To my dismay, a giant cup of cappuccino did not form...rather instead of drowning myself in the deliciousness…I just got very, very wet.