When I went to Italy for the first time, I was awestruck by the women. The streets are like stepping in a fashion magazine. As much of a stereotype as it seems, its absolutely true. In Napoli, the Italian women all seemed to have slender long legs, expensive Italian shoes, and short dresses with tops that pressed their breasts so tightly that they seemed as if they could spill out at any moment. I'd gaze at them in fascination and longing, in cafes where they seemed to linger and sip espressos. Straddling the back of a moped as it sped past, or simply sitting in a courtyard.
At the museum of national archeology, they had a large open courtyard in the center of the building. Like everything in Italy, the building itself seemed to have been built thousands of years ago, and was overgrown and crumbling. As I walked down the side of the courtyard along the columns, I snapped photos of the fragmented torsos of Roman and Greek sculptures. About 30 feet away from me, sat a gorgeous woman, just relaxing in the sun. I zoomed my small camera all the way before lifting it, and pretending to snap a photo of the statue in front of me. Really, I had shifted just past the statue to the woman. She moved her head just as the shutter snapped, and I thought I had lost my perfect shot.
I knew I couldn't risk pointing the camera at her again without notice, so I moved on, as naturally as possible. I doubt she noticed at all. I felt so embarrassed at my shyness for not being able to simply approach a stranger in a foreign land and ask to take their picture, ashamed that I tried to sneak a photo, and worst of all--furious at myself for missing the moment.
I berated myself the remainder of the afternoon. I even made a second loop around the courtyard a little while later when it seemed less obvious. But she had gone. My perfect moment of an Italian woman basking in the sun of an ancient courtyard was nothing more than a blurry snapshot. Until I got back to the hotel and downloaded my images of the day. Blown up to full size, my eyes spotted something I hadn't noticed in the museum. No wonder she was so enjoying the sun and the warmth radiating from the stones. I had captured, in fact, my most perfect Italian moment.
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