The moment re-entry actually began seemed so insignificant. I’m almost embarrassed to share this moment publicly because it seems like such a so what kind of thing. Yet the times I’ve tried describing it I’ve nearly started crying because I so clearly remember how utterly confused, lost, and alone I felt in that moment.
We’re convinced the waiter scammed us. Overcharged us because of our U.S. citizenship. Because we’re young women. Because we can’t speak Italian. We leave Italy with a very bad impression of the entire country. All based on one experience in one restaurant in one city. We decide we’ll never go back to Italy. But then, the more I think about the incident during the next few weeks, the more uneasy I become. Is it possible that the waiter hadn’t scammed us?