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by Hobbes Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Other · Cultural · #1318807

Sitting along the Colonnade of St. Peter's studying alone, but not for long

         â€śA------a  t------de arte?

         â€śSi,” I say.

         â€śAh.... s----o d----a Panteon.”

         â€śNo..noo, il Parthenon en Athens.

         â€śAh... t---- ro----a?”

         â€śUh, inglese?

So we switch to English. He had come up to me as I sat on the steps of the Colonnade of St. Peter’s. I had just pulled out my Art and Architecture Book. He had been there for a while, sitting a column or two over, but with someone else earlier. A girl...I think....I was studying after all. He wondered at my accent, asking if I was American...He didn’t think I looked it, more French or Dutch (a deja vu - it has happened before in the US and in Italy). Interesting conversation to have with a stranger.

         â€śI have asked you all the questions. I am very shy and modest, so I think you should ask some questions.”

         So I ask some. Later...


         â€śThis is boring. You are asking boring questions. I would not ask you such questions. Let me try then. “

         He asked me what my sign was. “Scorpio” I say.

         â€śAh, then you must be very strong. You look it. You will be in charge someday - the boss and will make yourself very rich.”

         â€śI hope so. It would be nice, because then I could stay in Rome forever...” I am still a sentimentalist even in this strange conversation.

         â€śAh, but you could have your own jet then and have a lover from Brazil and one from Cuba.”

         â€śBut Americans don’t get along with Cubans very well.” Am I really having this conversation with some Italian?

         â€śOf course, of course. You don’t have to have one from Cuba... You are a student here?”

         â€śNo, from outside of Rome.”

         â€śAh, you are about 20?”

         â€śYes, how about you?”

         â€śTell me what the limit is and then I will tell you my age.” All done with a wink.

         â€śTry below 45.” I am curious to know his real age.

         â€śWell, I am 28 then. Almost too old to come and talk to you. At 29 I will be, but then at 30 I won’t. I will be distinguished.”

         I laughed in my head at this...he could never be a distinguished looking man.

         â€śSo what do you do for fun, do you come into Roma at night?”

         â€śNot really, just on the weekends...”

         â€śYou should call me, I will bring my friends and you can bring your friends. Do you dance?”

         â€śSomewhat.”
         â€śDo you dance like an American girl or different?” By that I think he meant the inappropriate and dirty looking dancing like on MTV.

         â€śUm, not really. I prefer Spanish dancing.”

         â€śSpanish Dancing??”

         â€śLike the Salsa.”

         â€śAh, do you know how to Samba?”

         â€śNo, I’ve seen it, but never learned.”

         â€śIf you come to Albano at night, we will dance the Samba..and I will dance it only for you.” There were undertones in that I chose not to acknowledge. “But I will give you my number, yes?”

         â€śIf you would like...”

         â€śAre you one of those girls that will call or one that won’t since you are a girl?”
         â€śMore of the second one, but if you give me your number maybe I will when I go to Albano.”

         He agrees to that, so I pull out one of my class notebooks and open to the last page. He seems pleased at that. “Ah, I will be the first one on your list. The next time I see you, you will have to show it to me, with all the Paolos and Marcos on it.”

         â€śSo you will actually want to see it or will I have to hide it so you won’t be jealous” I teased.

         â€śNo, no I will see it, and they will see that I am first on your list.”

         So he writes his name, number and email on the paper. The
conversation continues until the sun begins to dip behind Saint Peter’s and it gets colder. I prepare to go as does he. He stands up, looks at me and says, “Maybe you should stand up...as.......right?” I didn’t catch all of it, only that I should stand, so I did. He is again pleased. He is taller than me. He had been worried. He asks how tall I am. “5 feet, 4 inches.” He is 5'11.

         â€śI will tell you your height in Italian. You will be even more European then.”

         â€śOk.”

         â€śUn metro, se--------o.”

         â€śWait, slowly.”

         â€śUn metro, sesan...ot....”

         â€śUn metro sesan...?”

         â€śUn metro se-san-ta otto.”

         â€śOh! Un metro sessanta otto.”

         â€śYes, yes very good...” I will see you around Elizabeth.”

We shake hands and part ways....and as he walks off I checked my bags and pockets to make sure everything was still there.
© Copyright 2007 Hobbes (hobbes02 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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