If you’ve ever been to Italy, you’ll know that the food there is delicious. Next level delicious. A kind of delicious that still taunts me in my dreams at night long after returning home. Perhaps that’s why on a beautiful Spring day, I found myself throwing up in my adorable little Roman hotel room.
As I mentioned, it was Springtime and I was in Rome, a city known just as much for it’s food as for it’s historical attractions. I had already spent the past two weeks gorging myself to the brim all over Italy.
Venice? Why yes, I ate multiple course meals for every meal.
Florence? Why yes, I did stop at the dessert shop on the corner every day on the way out of the hotel and on the way back in.
And here I found myself in Rome.
Rome. A city that held such delights to be found as gnocchi, pizza, ravioli, tortellini, fettuccine, penne, risotto, minestrone, spaghetti, tiramisu, and lasagna.
Every meal went something like this:
Antipasto? Yes please! Primo? Why yes! Secondo? Bring it on! Dessert? You only live once! Wine? Why not?
It was a wonder I was able to fit it all in my stomach, but I figured that when in Italy, one should eat, and eat I did.
It wasn’t until my last day in Italy that it started to hit me: I was leaving. I wouldn’t have any more chances to do this after today! We have Italian food at home, but it’s not the same! Panic set in. With that panic came an irresistible urge to eat more. I gorged myself as I ate my way through the city of Rome. Who needs the Colosseum when you can have a colossal pile of pasta instead? Who needs the Trevi when you have tortellini? Piazzas? Only if there’s pizza! It was all so delicious, so wonderful. I never wanted to stop.
Until…I had eaten too much. Way too much. Uh-oh. This wasn’t good. I needed to get back to the hotel room….fast. I didn’t feel good.
I barely made it back to the hotel room when it hit me with the full force that only an overindulgent Italian eating spree can bring on. Oh, I threw up. I threw up a lot. It was horrible. My poor husband looked on with sympathy as I cried between heaves.
I had eaten myself to the point of sickness in Rome.