A couple years ago, right around now, I was basking in the glory of Italy. And by basking, I mean getting stuck in a frightening anti-Bush rally while carrying luggage and standing next to my husband, who was wearing (gasp) shorts. It was as if we had We Are American, Please Hate Us signs on our backs. But I can forgive and forget, if only because it was truffle season in Italy and I had The Best Meal Of My Life (ravioli smothered in local olive oil and fresh picked truffles) in Chianti. Yum.
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