Bella Fortuna (28 page)
Authors: Rosanna Chiofalo
“Did you not hear me, Miss DeLuca? I want to try on five more mermaid gowns. Why are you still standing here?”
“
You're
the one who did not hear me, Miss Foster. I said this appointment is finished for today. You can come back another day.”
You're
the one who did not hear me, Miss Foster. I said this appointment is finished for today. You can come back another day.”
“I'm
not
leaving until I'm ready to.”
not
leaving until I'm ready to.”
Donna places her hands on her hips, tilting her head to the side. Her green eyes squint as she stares at me, sizing me up from head to toe. A smirk is on her face. She can't be more than twenty-two years old, but she has the cocky confidence of a woman who's seized the world.
“Fine. You can stand there as long as you like, but I'm attending to my next client.”
I start to walk away, but Donna steps down from the pedestal, almost falling as she trips over the cathedral train that's attached to the Justin Alexander knockoff mermaid gown she has on. She stands in front of me, blocking my path.
“I could slander your name and the name of this shop all over the Internet, damaging your business forever.”
That's all it takes for me to lose it.
“Who do you think you are? Just because you're getting married doesn't give you the right to treat other people like your slaves! If you don't leave right now, I'm going toâ”
Someone grips my arm, pulling me away from Donna.
“Valentina, stop it!” It's Rita.
I don't realize my hands have curled into tightly clenched fists. I've never lost control before. This isn't the first time I've had to deal with a difficult client. I look at Rita.
“Fine. I'm going to the back. You deal with her.”
“I can't believe how I've been treated. I'm planning on spending thousands of dollars in here today, and this is the treatment I get?”
I overhear Rita and Ma trying to calm down Ms. Prima Donna, offering her bribe upon bribe.
“Please excuse her. She's going through a very difficult time right now. She's never acted like this before. You can stay here until we close if you'd like to try on more dresses. Please don't leave.”
Ma is begging her, which sickens me. I hate this part of the business: kissing up to clients who don't deserve to be treated well at all, especially after they've treated us so poorly. But it is a business, and the client must come first, as Ma always says. Shouldn't there be a line? I've heard of businesses before that refuse service to customers who treat the employees badly. But this is different. I know that. And it's a different time. The girl has threatened to slander us online. That's all it takes today with the power of the Internet. I'd often consulted online reviews as well before deciding on a new hair salon or restaurant to try. And to Ma, reputation means everything.
Suddenly realizing what I might've done by losing control, I regret my actions immediately. I wait just outside our alterations room and eavesdrop on their conversation to see the outcome.
“We'll give you fifteen percent off the dress.” Rita is bribing as well.
“Just fifteen after the way she talked to me? Come on, Tina.”
“Wait! We'll give you twenty-five percent off the dress, including alterations,
and
fifteen percent off your headpiece.” Ma has never bargained that much before.
and
fifteen percent off your headpiece.” Ma has never bargained that much before.
“Well, I guess I can reconsider.”
“You're getting a great deal. Please, why don't you sit down and have a cup of coffee while we bring you your other gowns to try on.”
Suddenly, Ms. Prima Donna makes up her mind.
“You know what? That won't be necessary. I love this dress I have on right now. I knew this was the dress, but I just had to be sure. That's why I wanted to try on a few more. But I know it without a doubt now. All I need are my jewels and headpiece.”
She walks toward our headpiece displays.
“Tina, don't just stand there! Come help me choose my headpiece and jewelry. Why else did I bring you?”
I close my eyes. Disaster averted. I walk over to the little stove we keep in the shop's kitchen and pour some
espresso
into a pan. I add milk and place the pan on the gas range.
espresso
into a pan. I add milk and place the pan on the gas range.
“Hey. Sorry that had to happen on your first day back to work.”
Connie comes into the kitchen.
“You weren't the bee-otch brides I had to deal with. No need for you to apologize. If anyone should apologize, it should be me. I can't believe I lost it like that out there. That's all we needâto have our name run through the mud all over the Internet. With all the young brides who walk through our doors, our business could be cut in half.”
“Oh, you're overreacting, Vee. We'll be fine. No one is going to go by one bad complaint. Haven't you noticed there's always a disgruntled reviewer or two on those online sites? You can tell they're exaggerating and just want to get revenge on the business by posting such nasty comments. They're not always accurate. Besides, look at all the glowing reviews we have on Citysearch. I was on there last week, and we now have two hundred plus reviews! And I can tell that beast out there isn't going to say anything. She's just a bully who needs to feel like she's the center of attention.”
Connie's bending over in front of the kitchen counter, checking out her complexion in the stainless steel toaster. I give up on reprimanding her to stop obsessing over her oily skin. It's no use.
“Well, after the discounts Ma and Rita gave her, I know she's not going to post anything bad now. That's probably why she decided to stay after all. She knew she wouldn't get discounts like that anywhere else, especially from a custom-made boutique! I know it's good business, but sometimes it angers me that Ma is always so accommodating to these Bridezillas.”
The strong
espresso
is easing up the huge knot that's formed in my right shoulder after the stressful day I've had.
espresso
is easing up the huge knot that's formed in my right shoulder after the stressful day I've had.
“Vee, I know you want to get back to your life and come to work, and I know you're tired of everyone telling you what you should do, but I think today proves that you still need time away from the shop.”
I don't even try to argue this time. My behavior today is evidence enough that I'm not ready to be surrounded by happy brides-to-be and anything remotely wedding related.
“Yeah, I can see that now. I just can't take being cooped up indoors anymore. I need a distraction. I was hoping work would be it, but all day, I just keep thinking about how things didn't work out for me.”
“It's understandable, Vee. Go easy on yourself for once! This was the week leading up to your wedding. You couldn't have chosen a worse week to return to Sposa Rosa.”
“I guess I have a sadomasochistic side and just wanted to make myself suffer even more.” I'm surprised I can still make jokes.
“You need to get away from here. Maybe you and Aldo can go on vacation. He has the time since he's not working.”
“Not anymore. He sent a text last night that he got a job at one of the art galleries down in the Meatpacking District. Of course, he had to take a huge pay cut, but he's happy to be back in the art world.”
“Oh. Too bad.”
We sit there quietly for a few moments. The thought of getting away is starting to tempt me. So what if I'm alone? I actually am not the best company these days with my surly mood swings. Traveling alone to wander among strangers who know nothing about me is feeling more and more enticing. But where would I go?
I think about Venice. That's the one place I'd longed to go to since I was a kid. But that's out of the question now. After all, it was supposed to be the setting for my wedding and honeymoon. How can I go there nowâand alone? I'll just keep thinking how Michael is supposed to be with me.
Damn you, Michael!
I scream inside my head.
You ruined it all
.
I scream inside my head.
You ruined it all
.
I think forlornly of all the things I had written down that I wanted to see and do in Venice: St. Mark's Basilica, Il Campanile, Il Rialto, the tiny islands of Murano and Burano, the gondola rides, the narrow alleyways that string around the lagoon.
A crazy idea begins stirring in my mind.
Just go to Venice. Don't let Michael take all of your dreams away. You can still have this.
Just go to Venice. Don't let Michael take all of your dreams away. You can still have this.
Aldo had canceled my flight along with the rest of the wedding-related events. He had to pay a small cancellation fee, but I'd received the rest of the credit on my airfare. My heart starts racing in anticipation. The more I think about this, the more it feels right. I'll be thousands of miles away from home, where no one knows me, and there's so much to explore. This is the distraction I need.
“Connie, you gave me a great idea.”
“I did? What?”
“You forgot already? The vacation.”
“Oh, right! But I thought you said Aldo found a job.”
“He did, but that doesn't mean I can't go alone. I am a grown woman.”
“Oh, Vee. I'm not so sure that's a good idea, being all by yourself.”
“I'm not suicidal, Connie, for crying out loud!”
“I'm sorry, Vee. We're just very worried about you.”
“I know. But you can all stop worrying. I'm going to be okay. And this is just what I need.”
“Being by yourself?”
“Yes. I need to be able to hear my thoughts. Besides, I've always wanted to take a vacation alone.”
“So where will you go?”
“Venice.”
“Are you crazy? I said to take a vacation to distract yourself, and you want to go to the place where you were supposed to marry the love of your life?”
“I know it sounds crazy. But you know I've always wanted to go there. Why should I let Michael ruin this for me? He's already destroyed what we had. Venice will always be the place where I was supposed to have my fairy-tale wedding, but I can change that perception by taking this vacation and making it about me rather than about some guy I thought I knew and about a fantasy wedding day.”
Connie sighs.
“Ma's not going to like this.”
“That's all right. I'm supposed to like the idea, not her.”
“Just do me a favor, Vee?”
“What?”
“Think about this for a few days before you make up your mind.”
“Okay. I can do that.”
“When were you planning on going?”
“I was thinking at the end of the month.”
“That's just two weeks away.”
“I would leave now if I could, but despite what you think, I haven't gone completely bonkers. I don't want to be in Venice the week I was supposed to get married or the following week that would've been our honeymoon. So the last week in June is when Michael and I would've been flying back to New York.”
Connie nods her head. “Well, that's a relief. At least you have enough sense not to go any earlier.”
“I'm going to apologize to that Bridezilla and then I'm heading home to start planning my trip.”
“You're already forgetting your promise to me to think about this more!”
But Connie's smiling.
“I'll have a couple weeks to change my mind. Don't worry. That's enough time to think about it.”
“Ahh! You and I both know you've already made up your mind.”
She's right. I have decided. No one, not even Ma, can stop me.
I'm headed for Venice.
14
La Serenissima
T
he five domes of St. Mark's Basilica in the distance grow larger as the Alilaguna nears Venice. The Alilaguna is a boat operated publicly, which takes people from the Marco Polo airport into Venice. I have read this is the most spectacular mode of transportation to arrive into the heart of Venice. My heart races as we approach the city I'd fallen in love with as a child. The anticipation of the other passengers on the Alilaguna is palpable. They, too, are just as eager to set foot in
La Serenissima
âor “the serene Republic,” as Venice is also known. And serene she is.
he five domes of St. Mark's Basilica in the distance grow larger as the Alilaguna nears Venice. The Alilaguna is a boat operated publicly, which takes people from the Marco Polo airport into Venice. I have read this is the most spectacular mode of transportation to arrive into the heart of Venice. My heart races as we approach the city I'd fallen in love with as a child. The anticipation of the other passengers on the Alilaguna is palpable. They, too, are just as eager to set foot in
La Serenissima
âor “the serene Republic,” as Venice is also known. And serene she is.
Golden sunlight bathes the lagoon. As we near the dock, countless gondolas dot the canals.
Gondolieri
stand out like peppermint sticks in their candy-cane-striped shirts and straw hats as they effortlessly glide their gondolas through the undulating waters. In one gondola, a middle-aged woman sits statuesquely. Her cobalt-blue dress stands out in stark contrast to the shiny cranberry-colored accordion she plays. Large, dark sunglasses à la Sophia Loren and a wide-brimmed straw hat with a blue ribbon complete her ensemble. A couple in their sixties hold each other as they listen to the melodically sweet sounds emanating from the accordion. In the distance, someone is belting out notes from an opera. I turn my head, straining to see where the singing is coming from. A young man handsomely dressed in a pale gray sports jacket and crisp linen shirt, opened at the neckline to reveal his bronzed skin, sings notes from the opera
La Traviata
. A group of tourists, mostly young women, sit in this gondola, entranced by the singer.
Gondolieri
stand out like peppermint sticks in their candy-cane-striped shirts and straw hats as they effortlessly glide their gondolas through the undulating waters. In one gondola, a middle-aged woman sits statuesquely. Her cobalt-blue dress stands out in stark contrast to the shiny cranberry-colored accordion she plays. Large, dark sunglasses à la Sophia Loren and a wide-brimmed straw hat with a blue ribbon complete her ensemble. A couple in their sixties hold each other as they listen to the melodically sweet sounds emanating from the accordion. In the distance, someone is belting out notes from an opera. I turn my head, straining to see where the singing is coming from. A young man handsomely dressed in a pale gray sports jacket and crisp linen shirt, opened at the neckline to reveal his bronzed skin, sings notes from the opera
La Traviata
. A group of tourists, mostly young women, sit in this gondola, entranced by the singer.
I feel as if I've stepped into the pages of a fairy tale. Every scene seems surreal. Pale green water serves as lawns surrounding Venice's residences. Lavishly ornate palaces dating back to the Byzantine era grace the landscape. Warm pink crumbling walls stand out against the turquoise-colored sky. Marble and Istrian stone churches gleam white. Shiny onyx-colored gondolas contribute to the
chiaroscuro
tones of the city. Perhaps that is why photos of the city come out so wellâall the light and dark shades Venice has to offer are a photographer's dream come true. Suddenly, I understand what so many tourists mean when they say, “You can't take a bad photograph in Venice.” As I snap away with my cell phone's camera and examine each photo after it's taken, the pictures are stunning. I know they will look just as perfect once I print them.
chiaroscuro
tones of the city. Perhaps that is why photos of the city come out so wellâall the light and dark shades Venice has to offer are a photographer's dream come true. Suddenly, I understand what so many tourists mean when they say, “You can't take a bad photograph in Venice.” As I snap away with my cell phone's camera and examine each photo after it's taken, the pictures are stunning. I know they will look just as perfect once I print them.
Happiness fills the air like the church bells that are currently ringing from St. Mark's Basilica. Everywhere I look, people are smiling and laughing. I can't help but smile as well. It doesn't matter that I'm here alone. I'm blessed just to finally be in this magical city. If you ask me for two words to describe Venice, they're:
happiness
and
perfection
.
happiness
and
perfection
.
From the idyllic views to the sweet sounds of music that seem to surround every corner of the city to the balmy breezes that carry the scent of
espresso
being served at the outdoor cafés, all of my senses are engaged. But instead of being overwhelmed, I am energized and very much alive. My adrenaline is soaring, and all I know is that I want more of this natural high. Tears come to my eyes. To think, I almost didn't come.
espresso
being served at the outdoor cafés, all of my senses are engaged. But instead of being overwhelmed, I am energized and very much alive. My adrenaline is soaring, and all I know is that I want more of this natural high. Tears come to my eyes. To think, I almost didn't come.
The Alilaguna has now arrived at the San Marco dock. With my one sensible rolling piece of luggage and a JanSport backpack, I disembark. Having done my research, I know that the city is most easily traversed on foot, so I made sure to bring only what I absolutely need. Even though I'll be staying for three weeks, I just packed one week's worth of clothes. I'll find the nearest
lavanderia
once I'm out of clean clothes. In addition to sightseeing and acquainting myself with the city, I want to get a sense of what life is like for the locals. Doing my own laundry will make me feel in a small way like one of the natives.
lavanderia
once I'm out of clean clothes. In addition to sightseeing and acquainting myself with the city, I want to get a sense of what life is like for the locals. Doing my own laundry will make me feel in a small way like one of the natives.
Though I need to walk away from the Piazza San Marco to get to my hotel, I can't resist taking a detour and head for the square. Savoring every moment as I freeze the scene in my mind like a camera capturing a photograph, I take in some of Venice's most popular landmarksâSt. Mark's Basilica, Il Campanile, Il Palazzo Ducale, Il Rialto . . . Though San Marco is where throngs of tourists flock, there is an unspoiled atmosphere here that is often found in more remote, less-traveled regions. What strikes me the most is the silence from the absence of motor traffic. That alone enhances
La Serenissima
's tranquil atmosphere. Even the numerous merchants selling cheap Carnevale masks and miniature gondola replicas do not mar the city like they do in other tourist hot spots. Though I am anxious to see the interiors of the landmarks in San Marco, I need to check into my hotel. My stomach is also growling.
La Serenissima
's tranquil atmosphere. Even the numerous merchants selling cheap Carnevale masks and miniature gondola replicas do not mar the city like they do in other tourist hot spots. Though I am anxious to see the interiors of the landmarks in San Marco, I need to check into my hotel. My stomach is also growling.
With my street map in hand, I walk toward the direction of my hotel, by the famed Riva degli Schiavoni. A long winding quayside, the Riva degli Schiavoni is busy with the water buses, or
vaporetti;
water taxis;
traghetti,
or gondola ferries; and gondolas. A sea of tourists mob the merchants' stalls, buying everything from T-shirts to marionettes and cheap versions of glass-blown vases. Across the water, I can make out the picturesque island of San Giorgio Maggiore. The church and monastery bear the same name as the island and are some of the architectural marvels I have on my must-see list of attractions. I'm especially eager to go to the top of the
campanile,
or bell tower, and see the spectacular view of Venice it affords.
vaporetti;
water taxis;
traghetti,
or gondola ferries; and gondolas. A sea of tourists mob the merchants' stalls, buying everything from T-shirts to marionettes and cheap versions of glass-blown vases. Across the water, I can make out the picturesque island of San Giorgio Maggiore. The church and monastery bear the same name as the island and are some of the architectural marvels I have on my must-see list of attractions. I'm especially eager to go to the top of the
campanile,
or bell tower, and see the spectacular view of Venice it affords.
Venice is separated into six
sestieri,
or districts: San Marco, Dorsoduro, Cannaregio, Castello, San Polo, and Santa Croce. My hotel is in the largest of the
sestieri,
Castello. I did not want to stay in San Marco, the most popular district for visitors. Though still a tourist mecca, Castello also offers a quieter side of Venice just behind its waterfront, with peaceful narrow alleyways, gently weathered
palazzi
(palaces), and breathtaking churches such as Santi Giovanni e Paolo. Another reason why I've chosen to stay in Castello is that it is still accessible to San Marco and is along the Grand Canal, where I can easily hop onto a
vaporetto
when I don't feel like walking to the farther
sestieri
or the Venetian lagoon islands.
sestieri,
or districts: San Marco, Dorsoduro, Cannaregio, Castello, San Polo, and Santa Croce. My hotel is in the largest of the
sestieri,
Castello. I did not want to stay in San Marco, the most popular district for visitors. Though still a tourist mecca, Castello also offers a quieter side of Venice just behind its waterfront, with peaceful narrow alleyways, gently weathered
palazzi
(palaces), and breathtaking churches such as Santi Giovanni e Paolo. Another reason why I've chosen to stay in Castello is that it is still accessible to San Marco and is along the Grand Canal, where I can easily hop onto a
vaporetto
when I don't feel like walking to the farther
sestieri
or the Venetian lagoon islands.
Turning onto the Campo Bandiera e Moro, I locate the red banner with the words
La Residenza
hanging from the second-story terrace of my hotel. The hotel's facade looks just like it did in my Venice guidebook. A fourteenth-century
palazzo,
La Residenza was built in the Gothic-Byzantine style Venice's buildings are known for. Made of what looks to be Istrian stoneâa more durable stone than marbleâthe hotel is three stories. The second story sports five portico windows and is most likely where the Gritti, Partecipazio, Morosini, and Badoer, the patrician families who resided at this palace over the years, had their quarters. I had learned from my art and architecture of Venice course in college that the porticoes signaled where the doges resided in their palaces. Many other wealthy or noble families in the city followed this habit of keeping their quarters on the second floor in the center of the building.
La Residenza
hanging from the second-story terrace of my hotel. The hotel's facade looks just like it did in my Venice guidebook. A fourteenth-century
palazzo,
La Residenza was built in the Gothic-Byzantine style Venice's buildings are known for. Made of what looks to be Istrian stoneâa more durable stone than marbleâthe hotel is three stories. The second story sports five portico windows and is most likely where the Gritti, Partecipazio, Morosini, and Badoer, the patrician families who resided at this palace over the years, had their quarters. I had learned from my art and architecture of Venice course in college that the porticoes signaled where the doges resided in their palaces. Many other wealthy or noble families in the city followed this habit of keeping their quarters on the second floor in the center of the building.
La Residenza's lobby is breathtaking. Frescoes hang on ornate marble walls, and lush drapery and beautiful antique furniture complete the reception area. After I check in, I'm anxious to see my room. I've chosen to pay a little extra to have a room with a view. Since I'd selected a two-star hotel instead of the four-star hotel Michael had chosen for our honeymoon in San Marco, I felt like I could splurge by getting a room with a view. Stepping into the room, I'm relieved to see it isn't tiny. European hotels, unlike American ones, are known for their cramped quarters. Though not as extravagant as the lobby, the room is tastefully decorated in exquisite ivory-colored furniture that complements the
palazzo
's creamy exterior and interior walls. A king-sized bed is cloaked with a modest duvet that has nothing more than brick-colored stripes. The best, and my favorite, feature of the room is the double arched windows. They're Byzantine in style. The windows' draperies are in the same red as the stripes on the duvet and are tied back.
palazzo
's creamy exterior and interior walls. A king-sized bed is cloaked with a modest duvet that has nothing more than brick-colored stripes. The best, and my favorite, feature of the room is the double arched windows. They're Byzantine in style. The windows' draperies are in the same red as the stripes on the duvet and are tied back.
Setting down my backpack on the bed, I walk over to the windows and open one. The vista looks out onto the facade of a church, whose name I'm not sure of. It doesn't look like any I'd seen in my guidebook or the other books on Venice's landmarks that I've read. I inhale deeply the fresh air.
Content with my surroundings, I quickly unpack and take a shower. At this point, I'm completely famished.
Deciding to wear a halter sundress I'd made years ago, I look at myself in the mirror inside the
armadio,
or armoire, that can be found in every Italian home. Built-in closets like the ones in America are not the norm in Italy, so huge armoires are used instead. My dress is white with tiny, black polka dots and has a snug, collared bodice with a full skirt that reaches halfway down my calves. It seems like the perfect dress to wear in Italy. I pull my hair back in a high ponytail and tie a white chiffon scarf over it. I break the fashion rule of never wearing wedge-heeled sandals with a full skirt so that I can be comfortable walking around. I complete the ensemble with wide black Jackie Oâstyle sunglasses. Grabbing my purse, I leave my hotel room.
armadio,
or armoire, that can be found in every Italian home. Built-in closets like the ones in America are not the norm in Italy, so huge armoires are used instead. My dress is white with tiny, black polka dots and has a snug, collared bodice with a full skirt that reaches halfway down my calves. It seems like the perfect dress to wear in Italy. I pull my hair back in a high ponytail and tie a white chiffon scarf over it. I break the fashion rule of never wearing wedge-heeled sandals with a full skirt so that I can be comfortable walking around. I complete the ensemble with wide black Jackie Oâstyle sunglasses. Grabbing my purse, I leave my hotel room.
I decide to forego asking the hotel's front desk clerk for a recommendation and let my nose guide me to the right restaurant for my dinner.
La seconda colazione
is the midday meal in Italy, unlike the lunch that Americans eat at this time. In the evening, a light
cena
, or supper, will suffice, in which a
panino
or even just a few slices of bread with cheese and olives constitute a typical Italian supper. Again, I want to live just as the Italians do, so I'll eat the way the locals eat.
La seconda colazione
is the midday meal in Italy, unlike the lunch that Americans eat at this time. In the evening, a light
cena
, or supper, will suffice, in which a
panino
or even just a few slices of bread with cheese and olives constitute a typical Italian supper. Again, I want to live just as the Italians do, so I'll eat the way the locals eat.
I make my way back toward Piazza San Marco since I want to explore its streets more. The aroma of cooking fish reaches my nose. I follow the scent and soon come upon Castello Rivetto, and notice the dazzling fish on display in its window. All the times I'd had fish when I visited my relatives in Sicily, it had been the best, most fresh fish I'd ever tasted. Without a second thought, I walk into Castello Rivetto.
Several
gondolieri,
still wearing their straw hats, are seated at some of the tables. Of course, plenty of tourists are also present.
gondolieri,
still wearing their straw hats, are seated at some of the tables. Of course, plenty of tourists are also present.
“Buon giorno, signorina.”
“Buon giorno.”
“Will it be just you dining with us today?”
“Si.”
The waiter smiles and gestures for me to follow him. He doesn't seem to take note that I'm alone. I see another woman seated by herself at a table, and a few men are also dining alone, not that I care. I'm reveling in my own company. And in a city like Venice where throngs of tourists, merchants, and even its residents are always milling about the streets, you never truly feel alone.
For
antipasti,
or appetizers, I have a simple tomato-and-fresh-mozzarella salad. But as I discover after taking my first bite of the salad, there's nothing simple about the taste bursting forth from the juicy grape-sized tomatoes and the smooth ribbon-like texture of the mozzarella, which seems to melt as soon as it touches my palate. After dining on the most heavenly
tagliolini a la carbonara,
I'm convinced I will never be satisfied again with the pasta in the U.S.
antipasti,
or appetizers, I have a simple tomato-and-fresh-mozzarella salad. But as I discover after taking my first bite of the salad, there's nothing simple about the taste bursting forth from the juicy grape-sized tomatoes and the smooth ribbon-like texture of the mozzarella, which seems to melt as soon as it touches my palate. After dining on the most heavenly
tagliolini a la carbonara,
I'm convinced I will never be satisfied again with the pasta in the U.S.
I choose a broiled swordfish for my second course, even though the pasta has sated my hunger. In Italy, when one visits a restaurant, it is common to order an appetizer, first course (usually pasta), second course (a meat or fish dish), and sometimes dessert. Restaurants hate it when American tourists order only one dish, and forget it if you even suggest sharing a dish. Italians eat this way in their homes as well. When I'd visited my relatives in Sicily on several occasions, I wanted to cry halfway through the meal because of my bloated stomach. My sisters and I would plead that we'd had enough to eat, but my aunts never believed us and just kept piling the food on our plates. After a trip to Sicily, I always gained weight.
But even if you don't eat an appetizer, first and second course, and dessert, it's easy to pack on the pounds. Italy is a culinary paradise, where food is screaming to be tasted. I once told Aldo, who had never been to Italy, “I'd go to Italy for the
gelato
alone.” When there are long spans between my family's visits to Sicily, I begin craving the
gelato
in Italy. I have found one place in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, that comes close to making
gelato
much like what you find in Italy, but it's still not the real thing.
gelato
alone.” When there are long spans between my family's visits to Sicily, I begin craving the
gelato
in Italy. I have found one place in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, that comes close to making
gelato
much like what you find in Italy, but it's still not the real thing.
“Signorina, desidere qualche dolce?”
Where has the time flown? I've been too consumed by my stupendous meal to notice that an hour has gone by in a flash. Though the desserts on the menu are tempting, I want to give my belly a break and walk off some of the calories I've just consumed. Plus my sweet tooth is really aching for
gelato
.
gelato
.
“No, grazie. Solemente il conto.”
After paying my check, I continue heading over to San Marco. It's two p.m., and the canals and streets are much quieter than they'd been when I'd arrived this morning. People are finishing up their dinners and having their
siestas
. I yawn at the thought of everyone napping, but I fight off the fatigue. I haven't come to Venice to sleep, even though that's what the Venetians are doing right now. So much for living like a native! Most of the merchants at the souvenir stalls have already packed up their wares to go home and eat dinner. They'll return around five p.m., the typical time for businesses in Italy to reopen after
siesta
. I make a mental note to come back in the evening to see the
piazza
in full swing at dusk.
siestas
. I yawn at the thought of everyone napping, but I fight off the fatigue. I haven't come to Venice to sleep, even though that's what the Venetians are doing right now. So much for living like a native! Most of the merchants at the souvenir stalls have already packed up their wares to go home and eat dinner. They'll return around five p.m., the typical time for businesses in Italy to reopen after
siesta
. I make a mental note to come back in the evening to see the
piazza
in full swing at dusk.
Other books
Passionate Investigations by Elizabeth Lapthorne
Complete History of Jack the Ripper by Philip Sudgen
Tap Dance by Hornbuckle, J. A.
The Virgin Sex Queen by Angela Verdenius
Ghost Wanted by Carolyn Hart
Skunked! by Jacqueline Kelly
Hook Up by Baker, Miranda
Sundancer (Cheyenne Series) by Henke, Shirl
Into the Ashes [The Arcadians 2] by Laurie Roma