Now How To Break It To The Folks Back Home...

A white dress.
A black suit.
A minister & a translator.

This is Italy. If the books and movies are to be believed, one of the most romantic places on earth. With much better food than France.
But aside from the rows of grape vines lining the rolling hills, the pocket-sized cars weaving disconcertedly amongst themselves and other road paraphernalia, plus everybody else speaking Italian, you wouldn't really know it was Italy.

"You're not in Australia or England anymore, this is an African house" I'm informed by Big Mamma as I'm ushered inside from the crispy clear Italian night air.

It was quite an event. One even I didn’t even see coming till 2 weeks ago. At least I knew before you.

3 ½ half days of dancing to hip-hop and R&B music in the lounge, drinking beer, just a little smoking, eating African food & dealing with the resulting tummy upsets, trying to speak intelligible Italian (with varying successes) and dealing with, as gracefully as possible, all the pre-event madness that invariably pervades all weddings.

On Thursday 16th February 2006, in Italy, before family and friends, my English friend eloped with her long time African boyfriend. I was there to be the bride’s sole supporter. The groom had an entire family unit.

Much eating and drinking ensued, disrupted every now and then by a photographer’s flash. The sun even managed to break through on the third day and gave some colour to the otherwise grey-washed countryside.
For some reason I can still not fathom, on the bride’s and my last night, after complaints of being skint all week, it was decided to visit a truly posh bar in town. Allegedly posh. The waiters were in suits but the music and décor was very tacky 80s. Not even the good 80s music. For shame.
Cost of 1 x Admission: 10€ -one free drink included
Cost of 1 x Jake Daniels Scotch and Coke: 8€
Fortunately the nips are measured at 50ml instead of the Australian Standard 30ml or the English Standard 25ml. But geez. And the bouncer wouldn’t let me in wearing a coat. Too loathed to put it in the cloak room I walked back to the car to leave it.

The greatest day for me ended up being my last day. I only spoke Italian, little though it is what I know; it is quiet satisfying to make your own way in a foreign country with a foreign language. I can order food, catch public transport and more importantly, I can do it politely. The first words I learn in another language are usually ‘hello’, ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Then ‘Can I have a beer?’. It’s just nice. And people are usually nicer back to you.


The truly observant and perhaps overly-intense-attention-to-detail people may have noticed this trip to the Mediterranean nation was the day after Valentines Day 14th February. Whilst I personally do not like such a commercial day and am abhorred by the notion of expectation and righteous indignation over a ‘show’, I had a special reason to ignore my cynical sentiments this year. I met a boy. He since told me he originally thought I was out of his league. What a sweetie. This however is not the medium that I would like to discuss my burgeoning relationship with so, Mum, Dad, I’ll give you a call about it later. ;-)

Randomness of the Moment
It was strange to watch the Winter Olympics on the tv, commentated in Italian, knowing they were taking place only just over the mountain range there. Definitely no mistaking it being winter though.

Cheers
♥♀♥♂♥

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