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The first meal I ate in Rome was nothing much. Just some homemade pasta (spaghetti cabonara) with a side order of sautéed spinach and garlic. (The great romantic poet Shelley once wrote a horrified letter to a friend in England about cuisine in Italy: "Young women of rank actually eat—you will never guess what—GARLIC!") Also, I had one artichoke, just to try it; the Romans are awfully proud of their artichokes. Then there was a pop-surprise bonus side order brought over by the waitress for free—a serving of fried zucchini blossoms with a soft dab of cheese in the middle (prepared so delicately that the blossoms probably didn’t even notice they weren't on the vine anymore). After the spaghetti, I tried the veal. Oh, and also I drank a bottle of house red, just for me. And ate some warm bread, with olive oil and salt. Tiramisu for dessert.
我在羅馬的第一餐飯很平常。只有自制意大利面（奶油培根雞蛋面），配上炒菠菜和蒜頭。（偉大的浪漫詩人雪萊曾寫過一封大感震驚的信給在英國的朋友，說起意大利食物：“有身份的姑娘居然吃——你肯定猜不到 ——蒜頭！”）此外，我還吃了洋薊，羅馬人對他們的洋薊十分自豪。而后女服務生端來一道特別招待的驚喜小點——炸節瓜花，中間一小團起司（烹調得如此精致，甚至花兒們可能都沒留意到它們已脫離藤蔓）。吃過意大利面，我試了小牛肉。喔，我還喝了一瓶紅餐酒，只我一人喝。還吃了溫熱的面包，沾橄欖油和鹽。甜點是提拉米蘇。
Walking home after that meal, around 11:00 PM, I could hear noise coming from one of the buildings on my street, something that sounded like a convention of seven-year-olds—a birthday party, maybe? Laughter and screaming and running around. I climbed the stairs to my apartment, lay down in my new bed and turned off the light. I waited to start crying or worrying, since that's what usually happened to me with the lights off, but I actually felt OK. I felt fine. I felt the early symptoms of contentment.
吃完這一餐，走回家時約摸晚間十一點，我聽見從我那條街的某棟建筑中傳來的聲音，聽起來像是聚集了一群七歲孩子——也許是生日派對？笑聲、尖叫、跑跳。我爬上樓梯，回到公寓，躺在我的新床上，熄了燈。我等著開始哭泣或發愁，因為這通常是我熄燈后做的事情，卻居然沒事。我感覺很好，我覺得有心滿意足的跡象。
My weary body asked my weary mind: "Was this all you needed, then?"
我疲倦的身體問我疲倦的心：“那么，你需要的就是這個？”
There was no response. I was already fast asleep.
Eat, Pray, Love
沒有任何回應。我已呼呼大睡。
