Domenico - An Italian love story

Chapter 2

'Destiny is the push of our instincts to the pull of our purpose' - T.D.Jakes

Emilio kindly dropped me at my hotel a mere hour and 3o minutes after I had arrived in Rome. I had managed a small sleep in the car on the way and had only opened my eyes when he had alerted me that we had arrived at our destination.

After checking in to my hotel, located a short walk from the Spanish steps, I drop my bags off in the room, add a raised black headband to my look, my gold hoops, grab my Louis Vuttion pouchette and dump my bank card, some cash, passport and room key in with my lip balm, grab my camera as well as my phone and head out to explore.

As I make my way down the main hotel staircase, I have my phone out looking for my first piece of architecture to visit. One thing im certain of is that I want a coffee for my travels, despite the heat. You cannot beat Italian coffee. I visited Florence some years back and have not forgotten my love for the rich smooth caffeine. Italian pasta comes a close second.

Heading out of the hotel, I pull my sunglasses down over my eyes and tip my face towards the sun. Despite the heat, it's beautiful out and there are people milling around everywhere. Making my decision on visiting the Spanish Steps first, i begin the short walk, taking in the streets as I go.

As i approach the turning to the steps I notice a small cafe to the left of me with some small tables outside, shielded from the suns glare. I decide to take advantage of my lucky find and approach the waiter standing near the entrance to ask for a table.

'Sì signora. Per di qua.'Yes madam. This way.

The waiter leads me to small table on the edge of the outside area and hands me a small menu with smile and a promise to return momentarily.

I take a seat and scan the menu quickly, deciding on a cappuccino and Sfogliatelle.

Placing the menu down on my table, I take in my surroundings. Rome truly is beautiful and I've only been here a short while. The cream buildings and brick framed windows. The gold framed doors of all the designer stores and unlimited architecture. Its a goldmine for a budding amateur photographer like me.

The waiter returns to take my order and I settle in to await my afternoon caffeine boost.

The cafe has few tables of patrons behind me, their conversations in Italian adding to the ambience of my afternoon. The smooth rumble of male laughter fills the air, no doubt drawing attention to the men from which it came.

Just as I'm about to turn to find the source, a small boy rushes to my table with tear filled eyes and muttering to me in Italian.

He must be no older than 6 or 7 years old and clearly is distress. 'Mi sono perso. Non riesco a trovare la mia mamma!!' Im lost. I cannot find my mummy he wails approaching closer to my table.

I leave my seat quickly, picking up on him being lost and crouch down to his level.

Ok. Dont panic Charlotte. Make him feel comfortable and safe, repeating the mantra in my head.

'Ti Aiuterò. Come ti chiami?' Ill help you. What is your name? I ask him.

'Michele' he responds, his eyes bouncing from mine to his surroundings, no doubt in search of his mother.

'Ok Michele.. sono Carlotta... erm... Dove..eri l'ultima volta...con tua mamma?' i stutter hoping i made it clear to ask where he was last with his mother.