The Human Connection

4. My Journal – July 15, 2004

Morning came early for me, prompted by the excitement of seeing Gaia again.

Trying to be patient and prepare myself properly, I showered, shaved, and dressed in the best shirt I had in my rucksack. It was still a bit rumpled, so I pulled it off and searched for an iron in the room. Finding the tool, I plugged it in but had to wait a painful ten minutes for it to warm up. Finally, impatiently, I applied the tepid iron to the shirt and managed to press out the worst wrinkles.

“It"ll have to do,” I said to myself while holding the shirt at arm"s length.

Casa Albertina serves a very fine prima colazione, the first meal of the day, and doesn"t rest solely on the European tradition of coffee and rolls. There were several types of sliced meat, mountains of cheeses, fresh rolls and aromatic bread, and coffee, espresso, and cappuccino for the guests.

prima colazioneWhen I arrived in the breakfast room, there was a middle-aged couple tending to their plates of food without speaking. The looked like they had already shared many meals, both at home and away, over years of marriage. Their easy companionship made it clear that it wasn"t that they were tired of each other"s company; they probably had just already said most everything that had to be said.

Across the way, I saw two young women, likely of British origin given their accented conversation, talking with animated whispers about the sites they intended to take in that day. One was set on going straight to Pompeii, the other worried that the tour of the ancient city would absorb all their time and there would be no time to hike the trails above Positano and Amalfi. With no end in sight for their debate, I turned my attention to the rest of the dining room.

A forty-something woman in what clearly seemed to be American clothes sat with her young daughter and even younger son. They ate mostly in quiet, but the little boy was more intent on playing with his roll than eating it, and his mother was more intent on giving him lessons in proper behavior than consuming her own breakfast.

I chose my food, sat down at a table near the outside terrazza, and faced the door so that I wouldn"t miss the entry of anyone – well, someone in particular.

It was two rounds of espresso before Gaia entered. She wore a gauzy white top tied with a string at the neck, over powder blue pants. The bright yellow strap sandals emphasized her tan.

She stopped at the door expectantly, scanned the room, then smiled in my direction when she saw me. It felt like some sort of unearned reward, but I was grateful for it. I watched as she walked in my direction, taking in her smile, her stride, and the promise of some time with her.

Settling into the chair across from me and facing the sea, Gaia smiled again, this time more broadly. She rested her chin on her right hand and said, matter of factly, “So, what should we do today?”

I couldn"t hide the smile that stretched across my face, then blushed when I realized how obvious I was. But I was ready for any time with Gaia, minutes or hours, but a whole day had not yet entered my imagination.

“Well, let"s see,” I stammered, trying to recall some special activity that probably lurked in the pages of the unread guidebook on my nightstand. I hoped that I would quickly come up with a fascinating, one-of-a-kind daytrip to wrap us up in, but my mind was a blank.

“Why don"t we just start on the beach,” she said. “It"s still early, and the famous black stones of Positano won"t be hot yet.” She leaned forward and smiled, then said, “And we can just luxuriate in the beauty of the Amalfi Coast.”

Her smile had the same effect as the warm sun on my face. The green specks in her eyes twinkled, and she reached across the table to touch my hand.

“Sounds great,” I replied, the thrill of it all still holding me in suspense.

“Okay, then,” Gaia said quickly, and she moved into planning mode.

“Let me get some breakfast and coffee, then we"ll go.”

She sprang from her chair with a lightness that came from the inner energy she possessed. Her steps were lively, and she hummed an unfamiliar tune while she gathered her meal from the sideboard in the dining room.

Gaia returned to the table with a plate filled higher than mine had been. Settling down and spreading the napkin on her lap, she looked up at me, then down at my plate, and covered her mouth with her hand and laughed.

“Oops! Didn"t know I was eating for two,” she laughed.

I smiled but let it pass. I preferred a light breakfast, usually just bread and coffee; she obviously used the early meal to jumpstart herself for the day.

We talked through her chewing and shared laughs about the beach, Americans in Italy, and the differences in the culture between the two countries.

“What part of history are you most interested in?” I asked.

“Europe in the Middle Ages,” she said. “I"m focused on historical developments that drove changes in governmental institutions. I care mostly about the evolution of government systems in that period.”

I mused about this for a moment, then asked, “Evolution of systems. Tell me more.”

“You work for State. I"m sure you know more about it than I do.”

Only Americans referred to the U.S. Department of State as `State;" she was definitely American or had spent time in America, but I set aside my questions on the matter till a later time.

I had not considered her age, or the difference between ours, until that moment. As a student – she hadn"t said whether she was undergraduate or in grad school – Gaia was probably in her early 20s; I am thirty years old. Not too much a difference; besides, I didn"t intend to make a point of it.

She was right about my work, though. My responsibilities at State required an in-depth familiarity with historical events and my particular field of inquiry – Middle East politics – naturally led to a focus on government systems and social change since World War II, including the forced partition of the region.

“Well, I don"t know what you know,” I said. “My job does require a lot of time spent on Middle East politics and government systems. And I am the principle translator for the station.” I didn"t talk about what I was translating or my interrogation responsibilities.

Gaia looked at me without expression, raised a folded bite of prosciutto to her mouth, and chewed on this while staring into my eyes. She didn"t say anything at first.

“Middle East,” she said without intonation. “Hmm.”

A moment passed. She seemed completely disinterested. Or was she actually completed interested. I had to remind myself once again to stop trying to read things into my “subject"s” expressions.

“By evolution of government systems,” I said to restart the conversation, “do you mean internal changes or external influences?”

“Nation building,” she said between bites. She demonstrated quiet confidence in her training and knowledge, so much so that it was easy for her to cut to the chase. “Evolution of government systems” was a convenient byword; but evolution in historical terms was seldom experienced through passive change. More often it was merely a convenient label for nation building.

“Most Westerners think that the colonial period lasted into the 19th century and transitioned to nation building in the 20th century as colonial powers like England, Spain – even America – lost many of their colonies. But nation building was also prominent in medieval times because…”

Here she paused and shook her head a bit. Smiling, she began again.

“I"m rambling, aren"t I? Well, it"s just that what we"re doing in the Middle East – call it nation building if you like – is just a replay of centuries of power shifts throughout the world.”

The “we” betrayed her as essentially American, regardless of what other blood she had coursing through her veins.

“But I thought your focus was on Europe during the Middle Ages,” I said.

Gaia just smiled through a bite of rustic bread she was chewing, and stared lightly at me.

I let her finish her breakfast while I watched in silent appreciation.