The Journal Purchase: Writing Assignment 1

On the first page of my Roman journal, it reads:

“Many years from now I will open this journal and look at the date and think I am missing many pages – nearly three week’s worth in fact. Hopefully Mitch and Kevin’s journals can account for our two week adventure through Paris, Barcelona, and Madrid, because I was holding off on getting a journal so that I could spend my money on a really memorable one here in Rome. Unfortunately, this cheap elementary booklet is not the type I had in mind. Yet even with this one, I’m sure I’ll remember for quite a long time where and why I got it. Green seemed the most fitting color, as the reason I chose to shop at the Office Depot-like Cartoleria was because I am already seemingly low on cash. Too bad euros here aren’t even green. I’ll have to work on my symbolism.”

On the third day of class, I walked into the journal and stationery store right next to the Pantheon, with every intention of buying something beautiful to keep all my Roman memories. Upon viewing the prices, I compromised and decided to save the beauty for my writing, and save some 40 euro in doing so. Walking into the Cartoleria near the Piazza Argentina was an act of desperation on Friday; I chose to deal with the lack of sentimental connection in my purchase. But it wasn’t too big of a deal considering I had never kept a journal before. Initially began as somewhat of an outline of what we did each day, my journal started to incorporate more and more detail of specific events that were meaningful or inspiring to me rather than simply a sequence of events. I asked questions and wrote in a way where I hoped to keep my own interest when reading it again in a few years.

There is another store near the Pantheon - on the way to Giolitti's gelato - that sells the same beautifully colorful leather-bound journals, address books, and stationery. Here is where I recently bought a small journal for my sister. It was by no means cheap, but I know it would be an investment worth it in my sister's eyes; surely she will use it much more often than I would for strictly travel writing. As far as I know (and ignorance is bliss), it is real leather, a reddish brown I almost want to call cherry, as in the wood color. A single band holds the book closed, but my favorite part is the cut of each page. They are not straight and even, but slightly frayed and uneven, giving a very rustic look. With unlimited funds, I would have bought one for myself too, for something this beautiful would force me to use it. Unlike at the Cartoleria, the lady ringing me up spoke clear English:

“Is this for yourself?”

“No – my sister.”

“Ah, beautiful choice. She will love it.”

Surely she shares this dialog with anyone and everyone who buys from her, but she made it sound as though she shared an emotional attachment with each item in her store, and was truly concerned that it would go to proper use. Apparently she assumed my sister would give the gift the care it required. Perhaps I picked the ugliest piece in the entire store, her least favorite. Would I have received the same approval, or would she have even made sure the item was off to a good home? Who knows. But I do know that telling this story in addition to giving the journal to my sister will definitely add in sentimental value. It’s one of those priceless characteristics. It also feels like something that would only happen in Rome, though I have a hard time coming to terms with that idea when she spoke in such uninterrupted English. But such is the face of (tourist) Rome nowadays.