Short Stories From Italy
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Short Stories From Italy

The time I learned about...naps

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Short Stories From Italy
Ella Brewer-Jensen

At the dig, there was an old boarded up building that we used as our zero point; the reference point from which we took all elevations to the site. In the shade of this somewhat dilapidated, but still sturdy structure, we would come together and eat lunch and relax after working hard all morning.

Lunch always came at the best time. It was during the hottest part of the day, when the only creatures brave enough to venture out were the seagulls and the ants (and later as we found out, the wasps). We were sweaty and tired, and when we saw the van pull up with our lunch, we all had the very Pavlovian response of putting our tools away as quickly as possible and walking over to the building to grab a prime seat in the shade. We would all spread out on the old concrete pad with our backs leaning against the rough old beige wall and eat sandwiches or pasta and a piece of fresh fruit. Maybe it’s because by the time lunch rolled around we were incredibly hungry, or maybe there is just some sort of Italian magic surrounding it, but for some reason those were some of the best meals I have ever had in my entire life. Never before, and I truly believe never again, will cold pasta taste so incredible.

After we finished eating, everyone would lie down on the ground and rest for the remainder of the lunch break. The first day everyone did this I was slightly incredulous. I had no idea how anyone could possibly sleep on the hard ground with rocks digging into their side and back and tiny bugs crawling all around. By the third day I realized that after five hours of digging, the hard ground was more comfortable than the world’s most luxurious mattress. I came to find out just how satisfying those short naps could be after a hard morning’s work and a filling lunch. Once again, I’m not sure if this had to do with the work I was doing or some sort of ancient sorcery, but I have never slept so soundly in my whole life. I would curl up with my head on my backpack and my hat over my face and snooze until it was time to go back to work. Sometimes I would use my water bottle as a teddy bear and snuggle up with it in my arms (during those five weeks my vacuum-sealed temperature retaining water bottle really was my best friend). I would wake up after 20 or 30 minutes of sound sleep refreshed and ready to face whatever the afternoon had to bring. I now understand the appeal and true beauty of afternoon siestas.

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