All I wanted from the summer was the ideal European experience: site seeing, gelatos, shopping, and an adorable foreign guy who makes you blush with his accent.
When my parents told me that we were embarking on a trip to Europe, I was so overjoyed that I didn’t realize the catch. After the excitement of leaving had settled, I then knew at fourteen years old I wasn’t going to have much freedom with adults and herd of children. Even with my dilemma I anticipated an amazing summer because I was completely disgusted with the boredom in Virginia. In London I had experienced almost everything on my to do list; the shopping and site seeing. I hoped that Italy would bring both gelato and a hot guy. Even though I knew my skin color made it impossible to blush, I wouldn’t comprise my list.
During our stay in Italy, my parents gave me the most exciting news. We were taking a day trip to Milan. When we arrived I was in awe, not from the sights but from running after my hooligan brothers. Once I bribed them with them ice cream, we all sat down at a fountain. The fountain had a man on a horse, water shooting from all angles and surrounding benches. I decided to eat my gelato on the other side from my family, hoping that with each lick I would gain my sanity back.
Once I sat down, a woman with awkward purple leggings got up and left. Little did I know that her unfaltering outfit choice was going to be the conversation starter between me and the most gorgeous guy. Approaching from the back he said, “La donna che era grasso.” That was the moment I realized the Italian dictionary I had received on the plane wasn’t useless. I answered like every other American: “Oh sorry I don’t speak Italian.” With his striking accent, he said the lady who left the bench was fat. Stunned I looked at him wide-eyed. He then placed a smile on his perfectly tanned skin, and I easily overlooked the comment.
When trying to pronounce my complex name, “Duh-neat” and “Dye-night” were his endearing attempts. After pronouncing it correctly he said, “That’s a beautiful name.” I felt like my entire body was smiling. Trying to be cute I flipped my hair, and realized I couldn’t feel my fingers. I curled them up too tightly against the bench from being so tense. With a light breeze easing me, I noticed how the radiant sunset made Pablo seem even more handsome. While he spoke, my ears were filled with the noise of water gushing out of the fountain. I convinced my fourteen year old self that this was as picturesque as it got. The surreal climax of my day reminded me of all the romantic stories I read with my friend Leah. I couldn’t believe I was talking someone who I thought existed only within the pages of my Seventeen magazines.
It then it hit me. My ideal European experience had been fulfilled. The light on Pablo face rapidly dimmed due to my sister’s approach. “Uh Danaite, mom says we have to leave because Nathan threw up from eating too much ice cream,” said my sister with a smirk on her face. It had felt like the day was a movie, and my sister fast forwarded to the dreadful ending. When saying goodbye, I looked directly into Pablo’s eyes knowing it would be the last time I would gaze into them. I thought of the song Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard and the lines “I remember the look in your eyes when I told you that this was goodbye.” I thought of this line because the last image I have of Pablo’s eyes are still so vivid in my mind.
During the car ride back, the words “If I could find you now things would get better we could leave this town and run forever” kept running through my mind. I kept thinking about the meaning of the words and how I badly wanted them to resemble my life. I had wished that Pablo would be able to come back for me and we could ride into the Italian night life with me on the back of his moped. Another line of the song that I thought was a summarization of how I felt was “I know somewhere, somehow we’ll be together.” When I read the lyrics of this line I think of fate, and how that is why Pablo and I had an engaging conversation: we clearly are meant to meet again.
I felt that my day in Milan proved to me something that I had never believed in before about romance. I didn’t think that attractive guys actually approached you let alone engage in conversation. I now can distinguish the difference of reading and experiencing something romantic. I think because I did experience it, I don’t believe it’s unattainable and romance goes far beyond magazine pages.