TUSCANY: February, 2003 (Part 2)

After coffee served by my new best friend, the darling and chubby sister of mercy, I was out the door and in to the town of Cortona. February makes for excellent travel in Italy. The streets were empty but for locals. The downside is shuttered restaurants, as family-owned businesses use this time for their travel as well.

Nevertheless, the chance to explore in relative privacy is well worth the limited dining choices. I could always find one or two available eateries in any small town — and hell, it's Italy, the food's tasty. A bowl of pasta, a chunk of bread and a glass of wine are enough after a long day of hiking in brisk winter coolness. I mean, my mother's idea of a pasta dinner was spaghetti soaked in Campbell's tomato soup.

After a day of exploring I found my small restaurant of the day. As I sipped a Chianti, I examined the rough-hewn walls and uneven floors and reflected on how Cortona represented a hushed, enchanting and solitary adventure. I touched my index finger to an amber candle holder with its single flickering flame and waited for my linguine con tuna, tomatoes and capers.

My history as an actor brings with it the hazard of adapting too easily to circumstances, as if I were playing a part. In Florence, I missed William. From a bridge I pictured our future married life and considered the dignity I would find at the end of a tunnel as I moved from girlfriend to fiancée and finally, wife.

Here in Cortona, living in a convent, I slid into a mirage of independence and imagined myself as an Emily Dickinson type. I could live in a place like this. Mornings would find me shopping for foodstuffs at the local market, chatting away in melodic Italian. Afternoons I'd work on a novel and evenings I'd enjoy a simple meal before retiring under a mountain of quilts. I'd to read myself to sleep lit by a full moon shining through a small window cut into a stone wall.

Was I a woman teetering on schizophrenia? Who would want to marry that?

I finished my dinner and walked home along cobblestones streets to my room and the nuns. I stopped outside a bar advertising "Nutella Night." Anyone ordering a drink would receive a tasty and free Nutella treat. Nice combo, I mused. Beers and Nutella. Nutella. Could be my middle name.