Final days at the Snack Bar

As my final days in Rome are quickly approaching, I keep thinking in my head "this is the last time I'll walk this road, this is the last time I'll go into class, and this is the last time I'll order an espresso, the last time I’ll eat a panini at the Snack Bar" and so on. When I began my final walk to Sedi de Roma, the sweat began to pour down my face, and I knew it was going to be another torturous, hot and sticky day. The thought of ordering an iced vanilla latte from Starbucks to cool down made my mouth water. An espresso shot did not seem appealing by any means. But, as I came closer to the small Snack Bar that has conveniently provided me energy and cheap lunches all semester, I couldn't help but stop on the way to class. The same tall skinny man who has greeted me with a large smile each morning, and quickly hands me my espresso's was waiting for us behind the counter. He set down the mini spoon and plate, with a pack of sugar, to prepare me for my espresso. His co-worker, who is a jolly man, with a thick mustache continually, tries to teach us Italian whenever we order a croissant or panini from him. I realized that this daily routine that I have gotten used to for the past seven weeks was finally coming to an end. It feels like just yesterday when it was the first day of class and Mike recommended that we checked out the small snack bar down the street which had some flavorful egg plant panini’s. I still remember the feeling of helplessness when all I could do was point at the most appetizing panini, to place my order.

Although I thought my morning encounter would be the last time I would step foot into the snack bar, I couldn’t help but return for a panini only a few hours later. The bushy mustache man looked at us and smiled, pointing to his watch, showing that we were early. It was only 10:30 am, and he was used to us coming sometime after noon. I sadly ordered my last panini, as I tried to explain to the man that it was our last time at the bar. He smiled, nodded, not knowing what I was trying to communicate to him. We exchanged the usual “grazie” and “prego” and I went on my way. Although the language barrier made it impossible for us to have lengthy conversations, the smiles, waves and “ciaos” always seemed to be enough for us. The men at the snack bar have definitely made an impact on my experience in Rome, and I don’t think it will ever be forgotten!