Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Day 15

Remember when I mentioned that Francesco would make a second appearance?

Francesco requested via FB, (that being our only form of communication) if I wanted to meet up and go to the beach by moped. I received this message two days prior to day 15. I responded, "I would love to go to the beach! Meet me at the Re Di Roma circle at 1:30!"  I hadn't checked my e-mail since this response and I had no phone to confirm, for some reason it seemed chancy that he would come. I showed anyway. I figured if he appears it was meant to be, if not then it isn't. I stood in the circle for 7 minutes and sure enough he was there.

It took 40 minutes to get to the beach. We drove through city, along quaint farms, and hay stacks. I held on loosely, although he kept telling me to hold on tight. (As I said before give me explicit directions and I tend to do the contrary.) It was so beautiful. I felt drugged.

He took me to a different beach than the others I had ventured to. It was more relaxed, on the fringe of being a hippie beach. I liked it! There was an air military base in a close-ish range, so jets were constantly flying above us as if 'Top Gun' pilots were flying them. Francesco kept saying, "They don't usually fly like this -- it must be because of you."

What else can I say about this without dragging it out and making my life sound perfect? ha We had ice cream as we discussed the various social groups of Italians. According to F there are the snobs, the kawate-a term that could be interchanged with guido, (it's def misspelled - I wrote it how it's pronounced) the alternatives, (rockers and the dread headed) and the normal folks. F further commented on how these groups hang out at different locations. It sounds like highschool, no?

When the breeze got a bit colder F suggested that we went some where for an aportivo. How to explain this? You purchase one drink, then you get fed with snacks until you can't eat anymore. I told him there was no way that I was going to allow him to drink then drive us home on the moped, he sportively objected, and we went home. Or I went home. We hugged ciao and I promised to see him again.

A promise I was unable to keep due to the following following. 
Apologies Franchesco. (!)

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