this space was as impressive as Notre Dame in an entirely different way. The polished marble floor was almost reflective under my feet, and the round dome threw voices from across the church around in ghostly echoes, making me feel like I was surrounded even though I had been alone when I stepped into the church.
I wandered slowly around the space, snapping pictures with my camera, but my heart just wasnât in it. Maybe it was the chill inside the Duomo, or maybe it was the darkness, but the bright, happy energy Iâd been feeling outside was quickly being replaced by gloomy melancholy. I spotted a door and slipped out of the church, hoping some time back in the sunshine would fix my mood.
I exited on a different side than Iâd entered; there wasnât any scaffolding out here. I stepped away from the shadow of the church, aiming purposefully back the direction I had first wandered that morning, but I paused. I hadnât noticed how many narrow little streets fed into the large piazza, and I wasnât entirely sure which one would take me back to our apartment. Glancing at the sun overhead, I swallowed my panic. It probably wasnât even noon yet; I had plenty of time to find my way back before Joelle and Sarah would be there, waiting to be let in.
~
God, I was so screwed.
Iâd been wandering away from the Duomo for what felt like hours, but the first three little streets I tried werenât familiar at all. Finally, I stopped for lunch at a pizzeria and dug my guidebook out of my bag. I flipped the book open to the map, and I tried to figure out where our apartment was. We could see the Duomo from the windows, but I realized that as big as the thing was, lots of places probably had a similar view, and Iâd been so exhausted yesterday that I hadnât thought to find out the name of our street. Sighing, I took a bite of my pizza.
It was crunchy and flat, heavy on the tomatoes and light on the cheese, but I was too hungry to complain. I remembered that Shauna had warned me that pizza in Italy was very different from the pizza I was used to in the States, but at the time, I hadnât paid her much attention. Still, it was food, and as I chewed and tried to puzzle out my map, I decided that I sort of liked it.
Finally, I thought I had a pretty good idea which direction would take me back toward our apartment, and I finished my pizza and started walking again. I figured I could always use elimination, too, just going street by street and doubling back to the Duomo if things didnât look familiar. Besides, Iâd managed okay on my own in Paris, and I headed into the street with renewed confidence.
How long could it take me, really?
Chapter Three
When I finally found my way, I stopped in the little corner store on the same side street as our apartment and grabbed a box of spaghetti. Mercifully, the store sold jars of pasta sauce, and I bought one of those, too, and a loaf of fresh bread. It wasnât going to be a fancy dinner, I reasoned, but at least it was food. Maybe when I had more time to plan Iâd cook something that required a little effort, but right now, I was exhausted and annoyed.
Joelle and Sarah were sitting on top of the stairs when I made it up to our floor (Iâd forgotten about the elevator until I was already halfway up, and I didnât want to risk going down and dropping my shopping bags), and they hopped up when I came huffing and puffing around the corner.
âWhat took so long?â Joelle admonished as she took the groceries from me.
âI got lost,â I admitted.
Sarah smiled gently. âWe got lost a couple of times, too.â
âYeah, but it looks like you still beat me back.â
Joelle frowned thoughtfully. âIâll be right back.â She handed Sarah the groceries.
Sarah glanced at her, confused. âWhere are you going?â
Before I could say anything, Joelle darted down the stairs. I sighed.
I wandered slowly around the space, snapping pictures with my camera, but my heart just wasnât in it. Maybe it was the chill inside the Duomo, or maybe it was the darkness, but the bright, happy energy Iâd been feeling outside was quickly being replaced by gloomy melancholy. I spotted a door and slipped out of the church, hoping some time back in the sunshine would fix my mood.
I exited on a different side than Iâd entered; there wasnât any scaffolding out here. I stepped away from the shadow of the church, aiming purposefully back the direction I had first wandered that morning, but I paused. I hadnât noticed how many narrow little streets fed into the large piazza, and I wasnât entirely sure which one would take me back to our apartment. Glancing at the sun overhead, I swallowed my panic. It probably wasnât even noon yet; I had plenty of time to find my way back before Joelle and Sarah would be there, waiting to be let in.
~
God, I was so screwed.
Iâd been wandering away from the Duomo for what felt like hours, but the first three little streets I tried werenât familiar at all. Finally, I stopped for lunch at a pizzeria and dug my guidebook out of my bag. I flipped the book open to the map, and I tried to figure out where our apartment was. We could see the Duomo from the windows, but I realized that as big as the thing was, lots of places probably had a similar view, and Iâd been so exhausted yesterday that I hadnât thought to find out the name of our street. Sighing, I took a bite of my pizza.
It was crunchy and flat, heavy on the tomatoes and light on the cheese, but I was too hungry to complain. I remembered that Shauna had warned me that pizza in Italy was very different from the pizza I was used to in the States, but at the time, I hadnât paid her much attention. Still, it was food, and as I chewed and tried to puzzle out my map, I decided that I sort of liked it.
Finally, I thought I had a pretty good idea which direction would take me back toward our apartment, and I finished my pizza and started walking again. I figured I could always use elimination, too, just going street by street and doubling back to the Duomo if things didnât look familiar. Besides, Iâd managed okay on my own in Paris, and I headed into the street with renewed confidence.
How long could it take me, really?
Chapter Three
When I finally found my way, I stopped in the little corner store on the same side street as our apartment and grabbed a box of spaghetti. Mercifully, the store sold jars of pasta sauce, and I bought one of those, too, and a loaf of fresh bread. It wasnât going to be a fancy dinner, I reasoned, but at least it was food. Maybe when I had more time to plan Iâd cook something that required a little effort, but right now, I was exhausted and annoyed.
Joelle and Sarah were sitting on top of the stairs when I made it up to our floor (Iâd forgotten about the elevator until I was already halfway up, and I didnât want to risk going down and dropping my shopping bags), and they hopped up when I came huffing and puffing around the corner.
âWhat took so long?â Joelle admonished as she took the groceries from me.
âI got lost,â I admitted.
Sarah smiled gently. âWe got lost a couple of times, too.â
âYeah, but it looks like you still beat me back.â
Joelle frowned thoughtfully. âIâll be right back.â She handed Sarah the groceries.
Sarah glanced at her, confused. âWhere are you going?â
Before I could say anything, Joelle darted down the stairs. I sighed.