TGIE Part 6: That Last (Italian) Conversation.

I am halfheartedly about to leave Italy.

Our bus is heading norther and norther, setting off for France, I'm sitting defenselessly on the back seat looking outside to the European highway, not ready to bid the country I had been dreaming to set foot on arrivederci. And it's like God giving me one last chance to breath the last air of Italia, we are apparently, stopping for lunch in a local restaurant in one of the small towns by the Mediterranean sea.

As the bus approaches the ledge of the island and sashays along the mighty, mediterranean cliff, the sea exhibits its magnitude and its one of a kind, shade of blue. Then my heart stops beating, I am in the Italian Riviera.

*     *     *

There I am speechlessly ogling at the kind of scene that made me weep couples of time just by looking at it –from outdated travel shows on Metro TV back in the early days of adolescence, and nights of begging The Creator to take me there someday. Apparently the day is today. I am gratefully brought here and not wanting to say goodbye.

*     *     *

It was Sestri Levante, a tiny town not far from the birthplace of Colombus, which was relatively unknown to the Equatorians, even to an accute Italophile like me. Remarkably charming indeed, the fundamental character possessed by any town laid along the riviera. Hans Christian Andersen lived here shortly, even one side of the town is called Baia delle favole, Bay of Fairy Tales. I wonder how did he picture Sestri Levante inside his bewitching mind? A castle on the cliff, princes and princesses strolling on the promenade, and a mermaid hiding behind the sea rock, who knows?

I guess I should name this post A Note from the Bay of Fairy Tale instead. Sounds pretty, eh?

The atmosphere gets merrier as we enter the restaurant, and I soon realize it is actually caused by me. I am wearing one of my favorite ITALIA t-shirt - that I specifically brought along for this trip, and the gentlemen from the restaurant seem to be very fascinated by this, probably to them, is a rare panorama: an Asian girl wearing T-shirt with pride. "LUCA TONI!"one of them shouts, probably thinking he is the hottest guy in the squad.

"No, no," I just smile, disagree. "del Piero"

Ah, I have passed the teenage phase of dreaming about meeting an Italian prince and live happily ever after in the land of the Salamis (huh?), because apparently the prince has fallen for another woman –Sonia Amoruso, and I have apparently, grown up, haha, realizing how impractical it is to marry an Italian with all the way of thinking and way of living differences. And as the consequence of watching The Godfather trilogy and serie A, I have accepted the fact that many of them, not all, are jerks, and definitely, for even a westernized and Italianized Southeast Asian girl, cannot be classified as marriage materials. But all finding a soulmate-related thoughts aside, whatever, what I see in front of me now, these guys I'm laughing with, are probably one of the warmest people I have ever met.

And it's like God is playing with me, just when I am about to leave, He reveals to me the friendlier side of this nation (and by the way, with all the impeccable al dente pasta and what? A saucer full of - free flow - best parmesan cheese in the world!), my hearts falls again.

Here in this side of the world, I smell the passion to live. And to repeat, I don't want to leave. TI AMO, ITALIA.

*     *     *

While the rest of us are out to take a little after lunch walk on the beach, I decide to take few minutes to sit inside the restaurant, to contemplate at the highlight of my life - in the summer of 2006. I can only marvel at how God works. I may not have backpacked across Italy nor have I spent years in this country that I love dearly, but the fact that He has brought me to the highly illustrious Rome, Florence and so on, and here I am looking at the skyline of an Italian town I had never heard before, it has truly made me feel like I have dived into the depth of Italy. Seriously, thank You.

Well I guess I have to move on. I look around, inside and outside, finding an opportunity to have one last conversation with an Italian, I just don't want the 4 years of on/off struggle with self-learning Italian books to go in vain. There's a stack of free city map near the restaurant bar, so...


"Signore, posso prendere questo?"


That guy didn't seem to understand, shoot. Is it my pronounciation, or I don't shout loud enough, is my grammar wrong, should I use English instead. So I tried again, "Posso prendere questo?"


"Ah, si, si" His hand gesture tells me that I can indeed. Duh. Free maps.


I was like, alright, it was short but enough, remembering my anyhow grammar and super limited vocabulary I don't think I can to handle much longer one anyway. As I walk outside to join those on the beach, I realize that hospitable Italian is walking outside too. Then I try elongating the chat. With important stuff.


"bella spiaggia," nice beach - the first phrase I can think of.


That guy just nods and smiles. Such a quiet guy, I'm trying to have a conversation here.


"e bella giornata" and it's a nice day - I haven't given up.


Suddenly he's not that quiet anymore, an army of words burtsing from his mouth, "&a#;%;£$^&#;#);&*;*;(£@$%^......cattivo...@$^&#;*;@£%&*;#;*.....caldo....¶•ª$^£@**,"

So I know he was basically saying he disagrees, it's not a pretty day, and it is freaking hot.


I can only smile."si d'accordo, e molto caldo."


He then walks away after throwing me a kiss-bye (You, Italians). I am actually glad he's not that cute, so it's not easier for me to say addio.

*     *     *

Well I guess that's really it, my last Italian conversation. So I walk towards the beach to join my comrades and pray that the conversation I just had is not gonnabe my last.

Ciao!