Story Time: The place beyond the pasta

Joining an improvised road-trip in Switzerland, which quickly turned to a bro-trip due to the intense levels of testosterone in the car, I and my mate made our way down to Italy.
After staying the night at a cozy family’s home in northern Italy, whom I communicated with sorely using insistent pointing, impressive charades, and smiling like a French poodle.
Absolutely lovely people, so very charitable. A day later which was spent traveling ensured that I finally reached my destination. Soon enough, I reached the hot, dusty and slightly smelly heart of Italy.
Rome was wonderful. The food, the art, the atmosphere and the ice-cream. Holy freak on that last part.
It’s like I realized that I’ve been eating semi-defrosted lint rollers all my life. Suddenly colors intensified and my taste buds declared martial law. Total culinary anarchy, it was every flavor for themselves.
7/10, pretty good ice-cream
I thoroughly enjoyed walking around, just taking in all the different impressions. The press of bodies around can feel overwhelming at times, especially when I get tackled by elderly Asian men. Seriously, they are just about half my size. I don’t understand what they hope to accomplish. Yet they are not nearly half as insistent as the street vendors, whom will approach you even if you’re eating, sleeping, in the bathroom or stealing the declaration of independence. No one is safe.
”Why yes good sir – I would like a selfie stick. Three for two you say? Splendid, now I got one for each hand and one for my left foot. That is quite the steal if I ever saw one.”
General setbacks of tourism aside, the architecture was incredible. Buildings so old, it was hard to grasp. Like, I’m pretty sure it’s at least like 32 years old – if not more
It is pretty interesting however, you’d feel very insignificant standing at the foot of the Colosseum, St Peter’s Cathedral or the Pantheon. It reminded me how I feel climbing mountains, yet different compared to majestic nature. At the top of the mountain, I get a sense that life goes on even without me and that my problems are so very small.
Man-made creations just fill me with awe, that such a thing could even be created.
With nature, I get a higher perspective. With man-made monuments, I just feel small.
It’s like when you throw a stick to a golden retriever, and it comes back with the wrong stick. Now he just sits his flabby butt down, panting happily while smugly squinting his eyes at you.
Yet those slightly daft eyes seem to shout at you “Yes, I did a thing. You are right to worship me mortal – for I am a good boy” 
The Italian architecture screams the same message. Looking up at them is like throwing a stick to your dog – Except now he comes back with a huge freaking mahogany tree. 
To which you just ask in awe: “Wait, how could this happen? It’s just a dog, how can he do that? Is this for real?”
Looking up at the monuments, long dead architects seem to whisper
“Yes, I did a thing. You are right to worship me, for now, I am more than just a mortal.
I am the good boy”