LOST CELL
PHONE – MAMA MIA
December
17, 2005
We have
been walking by a restaurant near our apartment everyday for a couple of weeks
on our way to the Internet cafe. Some
people we met on our walking tours have recommended it. It has a contemporary feel so even though we
have read no reviews, we decide to book it.
Kim stops in and they tell her they have no room and they are booked
until Christmas. Then in a moment of
compassion the maitre d’ suggests that we could come if we didn’t mind sitting
in a room with their big party. They
show Kim the table and it is out of the way enough for her to take it. We decide to go early thinking we can miss
most of the party action. A good idea
and normally no respectable Roman would appear before 9PM or later, but we all
arrive together at about 8:30. Most of
the guests are men and they look like cops to me. The restaurant is just down the street from
the Italian Justice Ministry. But no,
not cops, it’s the Italian Army in its best civilian clothes. At least no one appeared to be “carrying
heat” but who knows. The waiter tells us
we are in his hands. What that turns out
to mean is that we are on the banquet schedule for all courses and do we want
meat or fish? In a real first, the
waiter says there is so much food that we are not to eat any bread. He was right, too much food. First plate, secondo, secondo 2, dish after
dish. Finally, we do the wave off, no
more and then they bring dessert. It was
all good, but we are on overload. We
will return to Osteria Romano when the season ends; I thought it was good until
I lost consciousness on course five.
I am
convinced that we will be better observers of the human condition when we get
home. We have become practiced voyeurs
during our time in Rome. We are looking
and if you are observing you see things that you might miss. We are on the street this morning early,
senses keen, watching for things to happen.
Mostly, it is the shopping crowd, women dressed to the nines, guys
hauling babies. A real scene, for once
the sirens seem to be off, noise level normal and the Via Condotti too
expensive to do much more than look. We
are looking for a special Cartoleria that Kimbo’s Italian teacher has told her
about. We never find the shop,
directions not being a strong point in translation. Later, independently, we
discover a big shop selling cards, stickers, wrapping paper, and other gift
supplies less than a 5 minute walk from our apartment. The stores all have
beautiful displays and are filled to the gills with merchandise. The Italians
are great shopkeepers and though people are hurrying they look like they are
having fun.
Back from our expedition, I discover that my
cell phone has gone missing. In the
meantime, the buzzer rings and it is a young man who lived in our apartment
last year with his mom who was on a Fulbright from Dartmouth. He spent his Junior year in high school in
Rome. He was very nostalgic, loved what
we had done with the apt (they had kept it more Spartan) and gave us some great
tips for neighborhood places. After his
visit we cover the apartment with a fine toothcomb trying to find the damn
phone. Losing a cell phone is nothing
new for me, but it is among the most maddening things to have happen. We try calling with the landline to see if it
rings anywhere in the apartment, nothing works.
I will punish myself for a while by not buying a new one. What planet am I on?
Tonight
the Lynch Film Festival continues with “Blue Velvet”.
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