In which my stepfather asks, "Are you wearing a hoodie?"

Although the tropical flowers still bloom and the geckos still scurry, fall seems to have arrived in Rome. If I were at home in the U.S., I would start looking through my cardigans and jackets to throw on over my t-shirt, and depending on the state of my pedicure, I might even switch from sandals to cowboy boots.

This morning I wore a long-sleeve shirt, a sweater, a heavy coat and boots. My ears were cold beneath my hood.  My hands were cold in my pockets and I could feel the cold on my legs as though I had spent the day skiing.

I passed people wearing parkas and mittens and snow hats, their dogs similarly outfitted, and I was envious of their well-thought out plan for warmth.

It was 57 degrees.