Monday, June 30, 2003

The Art of Eating

Our trip to Sulmona has led to many questions...

Did Ovid like confetti?
What was it like to live through a cathedral-shattering earthquake in the early 18th century?
How many centuries of tourists have slipped on the polished travertine steps under the impressive acquaduct?
If I go to an artists' retreat and come back with a fuller stomach than notebook, is that necessarily a bad thing?

To be sure, Sulmona is an inspiring city. We were enamored with the medieval town the moment we crossed the first cobbled, confetti-ed street to glimpse the striking mountain range that encompasses the city.

The hometown-boy-made-good, Ovid's passion was love. As the foreign would-be-artist, mine was food. We ate well in Sulmona. I'm happy that crumbs from an alfresco lunch of crusty bread and well-aged cheese now stain my writing notebook. An incredible antipasti spread and a hearty mushroom and sausage pasta lead to a deep drowsiness that made even lifting the pen seem a superhuman strength.

But all artists need least that's what I told myself while rereading the less than stellar passages from that greasy notebook page. So the artists' retreat was a success, just not in the way I expected it to be. More soon...ran out of time.



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