On this beautiful day I decided to upload my first batch of pictures onto FB at the neighborhood Internet cafe, yet the CD that I had loaded everything onto from Florence was not working. Which caused me to have a minor anxiety issue. Please, feel free to throw all of my belongings or even me in a river, but do not mess with the pictures. The freak out went a little like this:
"Why the fuck isn't this working. O my God what the hell is wrong with this thing. Can you try this on your computer?" - I said to the non-English speaking youth manning the front desk.
Fortunately my slight rant was over heard by Anthony a Rome resident from Miami. He tried to help without any success. He then gave me an address to a place where I could possibly salvage my memories. At this point I simply gave him a blank stare that voiced, "I have no idea where this is." Anthony sensed the my anxiety and offered to come along.
On the way he suggested we stop for a coffee. I naturally agreed since stopping for a coffee happened before and after all occurrences in Rome. Once there, Ant told me of his chiropractic Practice and of his terrible habit of giving individuals affordable discounts. After coffees, we walked over to the CD place, which was actually a spot where persons produced short films and commercials. When the pictures were reloaded a large bearded fellow who did the work said, "15 euros." I thought shit, fifteen euros for pictures on a cd, O well it must be done. Ant must have seen the surprise written across my face, (My face is an open window. I have to work on masking my emotions more.) because he paid the man before I was able to react.
After my multiple thank yous I told him that we were going to lunch and that of course it was on me. He told me he would have nothing of the sort, that he was going to cook me lunch. Initially, I hesitated, and then consented. I thought, if the man wants to cook me lunch, I'll let him cook me lunch. I had been enjoying his company. Why not?
Once Ant's home/office, he started lunch, as he cooked he took out 'Traces,' an artistic book of poems and drawings that whispered a woman's secrets. the woman: Niki De Saint Phalle. The tears fell at page 3. Buy it. After lunch (Yes it was yum) Ant took out a tiramisu that one of his clients had brought him. (Which made me think of that old woman paying Adam Sandler with meatballs in 'The Wedding Singer') Yeah, best tiramisu I have ever had. I want that recipe.
Before the evident good-byes Ant let me have a look at his office. His practice was home based. As my eyes scanned the various chiropractic tables I was asked if I ever had a session. I told him the truth -- "No." Then 5 seconds later I was sprawled out on a table and he was doing stuff to my back. Ha! My thoughts lingered towards suspicion. But he didn't try for anything, not a thing, aside from informing me of the differences between healing and curing. I had no idea they were two things. It may be something to think on.
I left with a doggie bag of nuts and chocolates, because he thought it was important that I had a snack for later. As I walked back to the Apt. I felt high due to the fact of finding a person of a different breed than the majority. A person who gives, just to give. It's a beautiful thing.