I’ve been eating Kraft mac and cheese for sixteen years! Okay, maybe not sixteen, but as long as I’ve had teeth, okay no; as long as I’ve known Kraft mac and cheese existed, and had that ever savory first bite, I have eaten solely Kraft. Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not ungrateful of the support, the unyielding comfort, that Kraft mac and cheese has provided me through the years; the ever-present reassurance I’ve felt knowing that Kraft was the cheesiest, and that cobalt blue and macaroni yellow cardboard box would always be there to say, “What more could you want?” But after sixteen years, or a number of years pertaining to that proximity, a girl has got to say, “Enough is enough! There are other mac and cheeses out there for me!”
     And so, my search for a better, a new and improved mac and cheese commenced. And where better to search for a new mac and cheese than Italy, where they’re known for their love of pasta?
     My search ultimately landed me in Salerno, Italy, where my friends and I had chosen to aimlessly walk, to see what we stumbled across with our feet serving as our unknowing guides. We walked for a long time, what seemed like minutes turned to hours as we admired the array of warmly colored buildings towering over us on either side. There was yellow, orange, and pink, but they appeared muted, like the rain had taken away just a little bit more of the paint each time a storm passed through. There were people, happy and friendly people, that smiled as we passed by, and simple yet extravagant flowers lining the bases of quaint shops and apartment buildings, humbly inviting you in.
     After that wave of amazement and appreciation most everyone succumbs to after first arriving somewhere new wore off, we realized that people were becoming increasingly scarce as we kept walking deeper and deeper, heading towards the outskirts of the city. We found ourselves in a maze of alleyways strung through a jungle of pale yellow, ivy-covered buildings. There was no pavement here, just dirt, and the city was slowly losing its pleasant and serene charm we were first presented with.
     But then, as we rounded the corner, all of a sudden there was a hum of unfamiliar words in the air. People were scattered throughout the opening in the buildings ahead; seemingly hunched over as though they were looking at something. As we made our way closer to the source of allurement, we saw an abrupt explosion of vibrant colors among the grays and browns the surrounding walls and ground had to offer. Old wooden carts lined the exterior of the alleyway, emitting charm and a picturesque sense of tradition. It was a farmer’s market stocked with fresh fruit, overflowing with lively vegetables, and smelling of fragrant spices. We walked around, looking at the offers laid out, at the merchants looking for even a slight sign of interest in your eyes, ready to haggle at a moment’s notice and listening to the people who had already initiated a fight for a fair price, but peacefully, like they knew all along it would inevitably end up in the middle of the first two proposed.
     But what stuck out most of all is that there was not a hint of mac and cheese; not a trace of what was waiting for me back at home. And I liked it. I set out for different and better. And did I find it in an Italian supermarket? No, I found it by chance in an alleyway in Salerno. So upon my arrival back home, I can gladly say I will pass on my Kraft mac and cheese, and continue on my unending search for something different, something new.