Tuesday, September 25, 2012

So Italian
I wanted to buy my student who just graduated in film a graduation present. I thought to get her a coupon to the movie theater. I went to the movie theater. An official man who reminded me of Danny DeVito (crossed with Telly Savalas) named Riccardo told me that I had to go to the movie office which is around the corner from the movie theater and ask for this particular guy on a weekday morning between the hours of 9 AM and 11 AM. I forgot exactly how to find the building so a guy at the edicola told me to ring on a doorbell that ended up being the wrong place. I found the right place and the guy in charge of movie coupons told me to come back tomorrow with the exact change and in the meantime he would draw me up a coupon book. In total this exchange will have cost me about an hour and fifteen minutes. In New York getting a movie theater coupon would take all of about two seconds on-line or two minutes in person. So Italian.

There are a lot of people who have succumbed to my relentless wooing here in Lucca just because I am a nutball. There are several people including my pharmacist, my chocolate seller, and the crazy abdominal exercise lady at the gym who never ever accept any of my invitations. Today I gave up on the crazy abdominal exercise lady because anyone who does a half an hour a day of straight sit ups is probably someone who is not going to like me and because this is the eleventh time she has not even politely declined as much as smirked when I invited her somewhere. So Italian.

My darling private client drove me home from the gym today. She was both smoking and not wearing a seat belt. I had to cajole her into wearing the seat belt. She had a whole long explanation for why she doesn't wear a seat belt which involved the fact that she has huge fake boobs, but she did it for me. I bet she took the belt off about fourteen seconds after I left the car, but still. So Italian.

We had a huge debate at the dinner tables as to whether T had to attend the bazillionth rehearsal for a play that she did during the school year last year that they are going to perform once again for the dedication of the Library of Antonio Tabucchi. F wanted her to go because he thought it would put her in good standing to get a lead role next time. He didn't know that the professor doesn't plan on doing any more theater this year and that even if he were going to do more he would never choose T because he doesn't like her accent. Did I mention that T does not have a speaking role. Only two kids have speaking roles and they are narrators reading from a sheet the whole time. Why in the world they need more than one rehearsal for this event is beyond a mystery any way. So Italian. Maybe we are becoming Italian because it took us like an hour to come to a decision which was to pass on the rehearsal. And I still feel anxious about this decision. Maybe there is a secret Italian reason for everything and no one wants to tell me what it is. The good thing about being American is that even if there is, I kind of still don't really care. That is so expat.

Before the last rehearsal

there were a lot of instructions.

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