It's not just about oranges.
Girls weekend out, Beatrice and Rosmarino and me. Kicking around in the fog and the windy country roads. On our to-do list: Shop for food for tomorrow night's party. Refill wine bottles. We were very busy.
On our way home, we stopped at the local restaurant. It was crazy early, 6pm, and though they were closed, their door was open, taking deliveries. Since it was a Saturday night, I wanted to make sure we could get a reservation.
As I shook off the cold, there was a small group of people standing at the desk talking to the manager. I hung back so as not to be intrusive.
"Aaaaah! Where have you been for so long?!" A man turns around and says to me, kissing me on both cheeks - the standard greeting.
I hope that I only feel (but do not look) briefly confused.
"I have looked for you, but you have never been at home."
"Aaah, yes, well ... I'm mysterious that way," I respond.
Somewhere during this brief exchange, I realize that the handsome bespectacled man with the sparkly smile speaking to me is the the fruit and vegetable man, who makes deliveries every other weekend in the area ... whose acquaintance I have made before.
We chat briefly, courteously: "did you have a good holiday?" "yes, me too."
Franco, the restaurant manager, greets me - I ask him about a table for 830, tell him we will see him later. As I go to leave, the a-ppealing (pun intended!) Fruit Man says to me ... 'come with me ... "
Out the door, he gestures to me and I follow him to to his open truck, sitting in front of the restaurant. As I walk past, I flash a smile at my girlfriends in the car ... (as had he before me, they informed me later).
He jumps up into the open back of the box truck, and grabs a plastic bag, putting in handfuls of the freshest and most beautiful of oranges and clementines that have come up from Calabria, in the south of Italy.
He tells me that he would love to offer me dinner sometime, when he is 'cleaned up' and not working. I laugh and gesture at my own sloppy hair and jeans and say that I have also been working today... and I respond enigmatically that I'm sure we will see each other around soon.
I smile brightly and am effervescent in my appreciation for the gift of fruit. I giggle a moment, as I have always been worried about getting scurvy. Today there is no danger.
I jump in the car, and the girls are already giggling at me. "I KNEW you were working some sort of magic!," exclaims Rosmarino
"I think I just got us dinner, breakfast AND a date," I joke in reply.
"I was just asking Beatrice what it says on the side of his truck...", says Rosmarino
The response became the punchline for the evening ...
"it says he has a good salami".
I may never see him again, but we're still sitting here laughing.
Damn, the girl's still got it.
On our way home, we stopped at the local restaurant. It was crazy early, 6pm, and though they were closed, their door was open, taking deliveries. Since it was a Saturday night, I wanted to make sure we could get a reservation.
As I shook off the cold, there was a small group of people standing at the desk talking to the manager. I hung back so as not to be intrusive.
"Aaaaah! Where have you been for so long?!" A man turns around and says to me, kissing me on both cheeks - the standard greeting.
I hope that I only feel (but do not look) briefly confused.
"I have looked for you, but you have never been at home."
"Aaah, yes, well ... I'm mysterious that way," I respond.
Somewhere during this brief exchange, I realize that the handsome bespectacled man with the sparkly smile speaking to me is the the fruit and vegetable man, who makes deliveries every other weekend in the area ... whose acquaintance I have made before.
We chat briefly, courteously: "did you have a good holiday?" "yes, me too."
Franco, the restaurant manager, greets me - I ask him about a table for 830, tell him we will see him later. As I go to leave, the a-ppealing (pun intended!) Fruit Man says to me ... 'come with me ... "
Out the door, he gestures to me and I follow him to to his open truck, sitting in front of the restaurant. As I walk past, I flash a smile at my girlfriends in the car ... (as had he before me, they informed me later).
He jumps up into the open back of the box truck, and grabs a plastic bag, putting in handfuls of the freshest and most beautiful of oranges and clementines that have come up from Calabria, in the south of Italy.
He tells me that he would love to offer me dinner sometime, when he is 'cleaned up' and not working. I laugh and gesture at my own sloppy hair and jeans and say that I have also been working today... and I respond enigmatically that I'm sure we will see each other around soon.
I smile brightly and am effervescent in my appreciation for the gift of fruit. I giggle a moment, as I have always been worried about getting scurvy. Today there is no danger.
I jump in the car, and the girls are already giggling at me. "I KNEW you were working some sort of magic!," exclaims Rosmarino
"I think I just got us dinner, breakfast AND a date," I joke in reply.
"I was just asking Beatrice what it says on the side of his truck...", says Rosmarino
The response became the punchline for the evening ...
"it says he has a good salami".
I may never see him again, but we're still sitting here laughing.
Damn, the girl's still got it.
posted by Viaggiatore | 1/14/2007
5 Comments:
Sounds like fun!!! Have a glass of wine or two for me and enjoy those oranges. I am sure they will be extra sweet!
Unassuming Princess
Never say never! Okay, you probably will in this case. But still, it's always a pick-me-up to be flirted with. I just wonder if he thought about the salami reference the same way you and the girls did...
OK, we know he has a steady job. Now all we need to know is does he have a mother? (Or a wife.)
It doesn't make sense to use the same yardstick on Italian men, we are metric here and fixed jobs are hard to get.
A good-looking Italian man that has a "good salami" and has been wanting to give you oranges? Damn girl! I would be hanging out where this guy delivers his produce!
Am I the only one waiting in anticipation for details about the wine tasting with the Cutest Farmboy in all (!) of Tuscany? And by 'details,' I do mean photographs, measurements and a thought provoking analysis of the aforementioned lad's tonsil hockey skills.
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