Sunday, November 28, 2010
Last night about 6:30 pm, I stopped in the mercato after leaving Moyo’s where I go to write the blog. I’m attempting to navigate Borgo degli Albizi shoulder to shoulder with the newest throng of tourists My hands are full, one with my purse and computer, the other with my bag of groceries, and I am continually saying ‘permesso’ as I push my way through the avalanche of people.
Just as I’m looking both ways before crossing via Proconsola, a man grabs both my arms, kisses me on both cheeks and swings me around. He is speaking Italian so fast I can’t understand even one word. I think he has mistaken me for someone he knows, so, I say, “Non capisco.” He doesn’t let go of my arms but slows down his speech and repeats, “molto bello, molto bello” over and over again. "Turista? Studenti?" (it was dark out.) I say, “Turista.” He says, “Posso communicato? You, me.” I say, “No.” Sad face, "Oh, bellissimo. Famiglia?" I say, “Si, si.” He accepts that with a smile and pulls me to him as he kisses me on both cheeks again. Continually saying “molto bello” before letting go of my arms. I must say I smiled all the way home. Then I checked my purse to see if my wallet was still there. It was.