when this really beautiful woman on her cell phone turns a corner and almost gets hit by a Vespa. She then runs up to me and starts ranting for, like, five minutes in Italian — “frustrated at the crazy drivers in this city” ranting not “I’m mad at particularly YOU” ranting. I listen and nod like I know what in hell she’s saying when of course I don’t know what in hell she’s saying because the only Italian I speak is “vino” (oh, and gelato!). Anyway, she settles down, tilts her head, slides her Chanel sunglasses off, smiles and says something then gestures as if she’s waiting for me to return an answer. I respond: English, per favore? She looks at me, her mouth drops open, snarls, screams something else in Italian and storms away while her giant Gucci shopping bag slaps her in the leg.
This is why Italy is super fun.