Sono Stanco (Part 3), or, where’s the ibuprofen?
So, that was all Thursday…. I am still tired, thanks to:
Woken by my phone vibrating. Friend’s sister informing me she is going shopping.
Curse the sun shining through my open window, contributing to my rapidly growing headache. I was only slightly buzzed last night, thanks to the ridiculous amount of food I ate, but the shots were chock full of sugary goodness. [I find out later that the Italians, perhaps because they weigh a good 400 pounds less than I do, were vomiting all night in their bathroom! (Score 1 point for the American)]
Go back to sleep.
Wake up starving, and head towards the square, wearing crazy gay purple scarf.
Make mental note to buy and wear a cute scarf in America…
12:05 PM – 3:30 PM
Attempt to write about my wonderful Italian nightlife experience, but barely make it through “Sono Stanco Part 1” thanks to headache. Scarf down two coffees and a Coca-cola (bliss…) to get rid of headache. Attempt to appear normal while chatting and eating with friend and friend’s sister. Work on blog and putter around on computer.
Receive text message from Maurizio inviting me to Massimo’s SECOND birthday party tonight. (even though they already invited me when I was drinking with them the night before) *SIGH*
I meet Francesco. Also Sicilian, but much nicer than the other one, and he can speak English well. He is also the first Italian to actually speak slowly when we attempt to speak only in Italian, and to actually use “easy” words that I can understand. It makes me like him… When he asks what I want to do, I tell him I want to try a Bicerin at Caffe al Bicerin, which Andrea #1 pointed out the day before (in great detail) was invented in Turin. It’s basically a hot three layer drink, of chocolate, coffee, and cream, that as you drink, the flavors mix and change. The cafe was very charming and tiny…has been around since 1763, and has always been owned by women, which is fairly rare in the cafe world.
It was tasty! For some reason I take quite a shine to this Francesco…even when he expresses intrigue and surprise that I want something sweet to drink before 8 PM…as he “of course” will have something savory and bitter, and drinks only Aperol before dinner. I try to explain that for the most part Americans are no where near as habitual as Italians. If we want ice cream for breakfast, we eat it. If we want to eat breakfast at 10 pm, so be it! I tiptoe around the “Italian food is the best in the world” discussion and point out that Americans don’t really have much of a culinary history…we steal it from everyone else, but eat out just as much as Italians… Mexican food on Monday, Thai on Tuesday, Soul on Wednesday, French on Thursday, etc etc. Shockingly he agrees with me, which makes me feel bold enough to even use my “I can’t cook at all” line…and SUCCESS…”Ah, I will teach you to cook pasta correctly…Americans overcook it…blah blah.” It’s just too easy sometimes. “Why, of course, I will let you teach me to make pasta al dente!”
For some stupid reason I let slip that I’m posting the picture of the bicerin on my blog, at which point he of course asks for the address. DOH! After some backtracking and me lying about how the blog isn’t edited yet or something…I change the subject. At the end of our meeting, I actually hopes he means it when he says we should go to Queever together on Sunday…
Go for another run in desparate attempt to fit into my banana republic shirt for tonight…
Arrive at the party (at Extreme Cafe again), feel slightly awkward thanks to the lack of Italian again, but strike up a conversation with an adorable girl who lived in California for a year.
After yet more food, more shots, more wine, “Tanti Agguri!,” cake, cigarettes, etc, it’s time to head out to Centralino…
This time Centralino is more packed than last Friday, but of course a thousand times hotter. It is my least favorite disco so far, mainly because it has this weird announcer guy that every other song, sings along with it, or the music completely stops so he can chat away on his microphone. It’s very strange….
Somewhere around 3 AM, Maurizio drives me home….