Un Cappuccino con Giulietta (A Cappuccino with Juliet)

"Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

-Romeo and Juliet

I am two blocks from Juliet's house...two blocks from the house that acts as her house...two blocks from Verona's tourist attraction (trap)...two blocks from a world of imagination.

I walked to Juliet's house and I beckoned to her window. She invited me in for a pastry, and I invited her out for a cappuccino.

"What's in a name...that which we call a cappuccino

by any other name...would still taste so wonderful..."

Now here we are.

Juliet and me.

We are standing at a bar in Piazza Erbe. We are sipping on our cappuccino, complimenting the foam that has now formed a milk mustache on each of our upper lips.

"Romeo would have loved that," I joke.

Juliet laughs.

"What does thou think of love?"

"You know... we are in the 21st century, Juliet. We don't use...thou...just "What do you think of love?"

"So says the English teacher who is returning to America to stop teaching English..."

"Touche," I say.

"Mi scusi. What do you think of love?"

"It's simple," I answer.

"Did you read my tragedy? ... Like seriously....cause I died and so did my boyfriend over love. I wouldn't call it simple..."

"No. You were written to die. That is Shakespeare's fault. You and Romeo should have plotted for a new writer before that final act..."

"I am waiting. Love...simple?"

It is. It is a hand hold. It is a lend of a smile on a bad day. It is a hug when you feel nothing but loneliness. It is in what you do without being asked. It is in a handwritten letter. It is in this cappuccino. It is in your heart.

I look down at my cappuccino and then back to Juliet. "It is magical and fantastic. It is everything. It is simple."

"It sounds like you have thought about this a lot."

"Maybe."

"Love can--and has been--a tragedy my dear."

"Or love can be life..." I add.

I look down at my cappuccino and I see a reflection of everything I have ever loved develop in the foam.

I look back at Juliet...to where she was standing, but she is gone.

"Love is believing," I think out loud.

"Thanks for letting me believe in you for a bit Juliet," I whisper to myself. "Thanks for letting me believe in love."

I look back to my cappuccino.

Cappuccino Porta Via (To Go)

It is half past 1:00 am, and my hands are shaking with excitement. I think to myself, "If I don't have a cappuccino now, I will have lost the opportunity to experience two of the greatest things in the world at the same exact time." Of course this means I will breaking two of the Italian golden rules: ordering a coffee after 10 am (though maybe it's before 10 am in this case), and ordering it to go...but with an epic sight like this, I don't think rules need to be adhered to.

Walking home from a night out with my friends, I stop and take a moment to indulge everything that is around me…the closed coffee shops, the bars, the cobblestone…but nothing is more magnificent than the Duomo which stands like a castle in front of me. Nothing is more breathtaking than this sight, this epic sight.

And so I stop, and I ponder, “What would make this moment even better?” “Oh my god. A cappuccino.” So I search. I walk around the square and see that nothing is open. I walk to the shop across from school, and they tell me that the cappuccino machine has been turned off for the night. I frown, and the barista’s face drops…gosh I love Italian expressions…he genuinely feels bad for me and says sorry a million times over. “It’s okay,” I say, “Niente”(no problem). I walk out of the coffee shop, slowly worried that I will not find my midnight cup of Joe. I tear up a little bit thinking about how much my moment in front of the Duomo would be intensified with just a cappuccino—it didn’t have to even be the best cappuccino in the world—it just had to be simple foamy covered shot of espresso.

And then from across the Piazza Del Repubblica. I saw a shop that was still open, and so I hurried along. Once inside, I crossed my fingers behind my back , approached the register and said “Forse…Prendo un cappuccino porta via per favore,” (Maybe… Can I take a cappuccino to go please?) The man behind the register pointed at the barista who was clearly polishing the Danish window. “Si si,” said the barista at the window, and he scurried behind the counter, a bit confused. A few moments later, I had my cappuccino in hand…and I was standing in front of the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. I was walking around it. I was admiring it. I was sipping my cappuccino. I was licking my lips which each gulp. I was living out one of the most monumental moments since I had been here. I was indulging in two wonderful things at once. I wasn’t in any rush, and I wasn’t thinking about anything else. I was truly enjoying the simple things in life--I was truly living.

Un Caffe Perfetto

The first cappuccino. Place of choice: Pizzeria Bar Piccadilly. 3:00PM

Forget that I had only gotten three hours of sleep on my eight hour flight overnight. Forget the five hour time difference (now six), and forget that I had just grabbed a newspaper from someone that I couldn't read. Forget it all--I didn't care.

I didn't care that I was sleep deprived or that I was stuck in another time zone. I didn't care that after 10am you aren't supposed to order a cappuccino (besides I was still stuck in the time zone where it WAS 10am!) I didn't care about any of that--I just wanted my cappuccino.

The lovely Italian man behind the bar cringed as I asked, and I could tell all he wanted to say was: You stupid American girl, we don't drink cappuccino after 10am! But I didn't care. No. No one was going to stand between me and my first cappuccino. No one one was going to deprive me of that dome of foam that would sit delicately above the rim of the mug. No one was going to deprive me of the warm milky mustache that I would form with my first drink of that wonderfulness. No one was going to stop this cappuccino from happening.

As I took my first sip, "Delicious," I thought. Simply...Delicious. I mix matched it with the one and only slice of pizza in Tuscany that had no cheese, but it still went down the way I remembered it going down all those times two years ago.

And it wasn't just in that first sip that I fell over taste buds with joy. No, it was in the entire process. As I had heard the machine begin, I almost jumped the counter. I nearly gave up all senses as I got a fresh whiff of the brew. I almost dove over the register at the first splash into the mug. I almost cried as it was placed teasingly in front of me. I almost fainted as I passed my Euros over to the young woman who had to suffer through watching me salivate from across the cafe. And that dome...oh that dome was so perfect that I almost bought another. I almost double fisted cappuccino. Oh...that cappuccino...that first cappuccino...it was perfect.