Personal Narrative-Home

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“Right this way per favore” The hostess instructed our eager family. We had driven through the winding streets carved into Italy’s green rolling hills to arrive at this beautiful, remote restaurant overlooking vineyards that blanket the countryside. We were lead to a patio outside shaded by a white gazebo. The place smelled like fragrant flowers. I sat down on a white cushioned chair and wriggling in my seat, picked up the handwritten menu. I scanned over the options trying my best to translate the choices into English. My eyes finally settled on pasta di penne con prosciutto, piselli, e salsa di panna or penne pasta with ham, peas, and cream sauce. My mouth watered at the mere thought. When our waiter came back, I confidently ordered in my

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