WHAT A WEEKEND.
Shall I start at the beginning?
Thursday, Filippo did not have asilo (nursery school) because the nursery school is run by nuns and they need lots of praying time for Pasqua (Easter). I must admit that I was dreading giving up my free morning hours. I'll lose them as it is when summer comes and I do so love being productive. Well, I had an Italian lesson with Stefano and made sure it was ok that Filippo accompanied us. Of course, it was no problem at all. In fact, it was fantastic and fun. The Italians are wonderful with children -- men, women, everyone. Children are fair game for touching, cuddling, ooh-ing and aah-ing over. This could have something to do with the small number of little Italians running about; Italy has the smallest population growth rate in the world (exepting the Shakers). So, not only was Stefano great with Filippo (wonderfully inclusive and patient), but the people at the bar looked after him while I was speaking with Stefano. And he was such a wonderful little kid -- it was a beautiful, fun spring morning.
Well, I find out later that Filippo, Pamela, and Michele were all heading up to the mountains that evening and not returning until Tuesday! I had no idea. I had stumbled into a 4-day weekend! (I love Pasqua!).
So after lunch, Filippo and I played outside in the beautiful day. Then, because the morning had been such a success, we went back to Floyd. There, I met another 22-year-old woman living in Sala, Laura. She's a friend of Marco, so they decided (I just let people make plans for me, since I don't understand what they're saying) that we'd go out for pizza that night. (Eccellente).
And that is what we did! After the family took off for the mountains, I went to pizza with Laura and Marco. It was delicious. I wish I could say it wasn't repeatedly horribly awkward, but that's what you get when a man is telling you how much they like you while his friend is pumping you for information on your relationships with men. Then, a group of 48 french children crowded into the pizzeria. My favorite part was when one of the french teachers shushed me, when it was obvious that we couldn't have a discussion over the dim of excited children. Even though we were probably three languages removed (A French-speaker in an Italian speaking country with an English-speaker), we still managed to share a laugh -- love it.
After eating the entire pizza (a feat, to be sure, but not as difficult as in American pizza joints), we stopped into a bar for a quick Guinness ... delicious. Though Laura was very comfortable prying into my affairs, I feel like we get along great and we could have some good times. We droped Marco, the working man, off at home and then went back to Floyd. Wow was it fun! The people were great -- too much fun. I even got my first kiss in Italy (excepting Italians under the age of 4). This quirky guitarist took a fancy to me and was outrageously flirtatious. When he went to leave, he gave me the customary kisses on the cheeks and then planted one on my mouth. As far as first kisses in exotic locales, it wasn't what I expected -- largely because I wasn't expecting it. Nor was anyone at the table. They laughed while I sat there shocked. [And don't worry -- I didn't feel at all invaded. In fact, I was rather impressed with his quirky moxy, though I don't plan on persuing anything in that arena.] He promised to return the next night with his guitar and play me something. Well, I certainly didn't plan on missing out on that.
After he left, the bar closed. Then, the remaining guests/friends partied down with barista Luca (see older post), including an impromptu dance party. With many plans for the morrow, I got to bed way past my bedtime.
All of this leads me to the Fateful Friday Night....
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