In July 2014 we went to Italy. Before we went there, I couldn’t stand olives.
When we came back, I loved them. I still do. I have a giant jar of them in the fridge, and every once in a while lunch is simply olives and artichoke hearts, maybe with a little feta.
This year, our Mediterranean cruise started in Italy and our first stop was on the island of Capri. Before we got there, orange was a color that I associated with traffic cones and not much else. I didn’t really like it at all.
While shopping I saw and fell in love with an orange purse. I carry it everywhere now. It doesn’t match anything I own, but I don’t care. It’s my new favorite color.
I didn’t have this kind of thing happen when I visited any other country. Not Israel back in 2006, nor England or Germany later that year. Not Greece or Turkey in the latter part of this trip. I saw many amazing things, and am grateful for the experience. But none of them completely changed an aspect of my very nature.
Italy apparently has a special, magical hold over me. I’m okay with that–I’d move there in a heartbeat, given the chance. It’s just peculiar and amusing.