Until recently I thought I was a night owl. I was convinced that I was most productive and most creative after 10pm. I have never had a normal sleeping pattern. As a child I stayed up past my bed time and read under the covers, wrote lists, and invented little contraptions which I would hang out my bedroom window. In high school this insomnia produced more lists as well as lengthy written commentary on issues of social justice and the human condition. My nightly obsessing turned out really great homework during my junior year (Junior Anna) but at the cost of waking up late without time to shower before rushing out the door. In college I was rarely nervous about finishing my homework because if need be I could pull an all-nighter and set five alarms to wake myself for class the next day. My roommates will tell you that after a week of this late night mania I could easily sleep until 1 or 2pm, a gift I don’t really think I’m proud of.
Last March my family spent 9 days in Italy: Lake Como, Florence, and Rome. Every morning my dad would wake up quite early and go out for his cappuccino. Being the inquisitive social being that he is he befriended the local café owners and would return to our apartment every morning with a bag of pastries and the napkins where his friends had scrawled the sumptuous Italian words they taught him that morning. Ci vediamo dopo, amici –see you later, friends. I envied the authenticity of my dad’s morning wanderings and so on the second to last day of our trip I told him to wake me up when he went out. Luckily, he was kind enough to try waking me a few times, as is often necessary, and waited around until I did emerge from bed a bit before 9am.
My dad and I bought a cappuccino and espresso and some pastries at the café across the street. We sat outside the café and watched the city wake up. Now, I find the sleepy bustle of early morning enchanting in general but the beauty of this ritual in Rome is something to behold. My Dad asked me about my love of the Italian language and my dreams of perhaps joining the Foreign Service and what I wanted to study. After another cappuccino we bought a few slices of the delicious buttery pound cake on the counter for my mom and brother, and strolled through the market in Campo di Fiori. That morning was one of my favorite memories from our trip to Italy and a very special memory with my dad.
Despite the beauty of that day I still stay up too late and find it difficult to get out of bed in the morning as a result. Like the cultivation of patience, this is a spiritual exercise for me. This morning I woke up at 8:45am and decided not to press the snooze button. I came downstairs and turned on the burner under the teapot. Then I went and sat in the sunroom. “You will meditate until the water boils.” I am now enjoying a delicious cup of English breakfast tea in my San Francisco mug and writing this blog. I am a morning person.
My horoscope tells me that my curiosity is not of the cat-killing kind today. I am to explore. What I find will make my life more interesting. We shall see.
Until next time,
Anna
