this is the beginning of the end.

Many a time, my consciousness have uttered this. Perhaps as forewarning; perhaps to mark the point of no return.

I heard it when I stood in front of the prosciutto.

I heard it when I stood in front of the nutella filled Sfogliatelle.

 I heard it again at Eurochocolate.

And it grew louder the closer I got to the chocolate.

I heard it when I saw the cheese.

I heard it when I saw the salumi.

I heard it when I saw the biggest pan of chestnuts roasting.

But it was when I got to prosecco country where not only did I hear it, I felt a complete lost of self control.

Why? Because it was the epicenter, because there were bottles everywhere, because it tasted so much better there, because I could have it frizzante, dry or extra dry, because it was all too easy to have a bottle in the morning, at lunch and why not another in the evening, because it seemed foolish to drink anything else, because the view in every direction was so much better with a bottle, because I found the perfect tavern, because it truly doesn't get better than this, because it was impossible to say no. 

It was here in Santo Stefano that I really felt it. It was here in Santo Stefano that I heard :

THIS. THIS. This is truly the beginning of the end.