Sunday and an early morning visit to Poland.
First of all, let me begin by saying that I am not at my best at 8:30 in the morning. Anyone who has ever met me knows this. Why on earth I agreed to a breakfast date is beyond me. So if this post has an under current of bitterness and vitriol, it is just because I had to wake up before the sun had passed its zenith.
So, I’m not sure if it is any sort of generalization since I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone Polish, but Polish Guy was more than a bit boring I don’t really care to hear how hard you have to work, and that you work hard, and worked a lot today and still have work to do…and that you have a lot of work to do the rest of the week. Um, I get it, you work a lot. Please stop talking about it. And please smile occasionally. I AM funny, years of positive reviews have confirmed it. (please reread my “AM” disclaimer above). Yes, Italians are crazy and rude and only looking for sex. And what’s the problem, Mr. Poland? There will be a post at some point outlining how I am meeting all these guys, and explaining how online photos really don’t portray people correctly. For example, polish guy looks quite young and virile with his shirt off. In the (always) grey morning light of Turin, and swathed in a dark blue sweater against the chill morning air, Polish guy just looked “ok.” Unlike “tour guide” Gabriele however, Polish guy expressed the desire to meet again another evening, perhaps for dinner or drinks. We will see if he was serious.
He was not so bad. I wouldn’t have kicked him out of bed, though I imagine the sex would be oddly…”utilitarian”…with a bunch of words with many z’s and x’s in them strewn about. I really tried to be immediately enamored of him, but the Polish accent just simply doesn’t hold a candle to Italian or British accents.
As I was telling someone yesterday, I’m going to milk my Americanism for all it’s worth. Perhaps, given the fact that Turin isn’t so much of a tourist destination, if at all, not very many Torinos have even met an American, much less talked to one. Why yes, all Americans ARE fat and alcoholic, so buy me another brioche and pass me that glass of wine. (This actually worked by the way). Why yes, I am an unarmed and poor visitor to your wonderful country, and no, I have NEVER had Italian pizza before. What? You would like to be the first to buy me a slice? *sigh* If you insist on paying, I suppose so. What is gelato? Is it like ice cream? Oh, you are purchasing one for me? okay….. I feel no guilt though. If an Italian was visiting Atlanta, I would probably do the same.
What? You’ve never had fried chicken before? Well…you are in for a treat Mr. Italian!