Eva, they say, you're quiet tonight. They get nervous when I'm quiet - these friends of mine - and they're not wrong to be. I like to talk, and I can do it in twoalmostfour languages. It's rare that I stop - What's that? What's that word mean? Conjugate this verb in dialect for me.
School is out, the rains have gone, and once again, the beach umbrellas are up along the curving beach. It's officially my third summer on the Italian seashore. Lather up the sunscreen. Rinse off the sand. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. I'm a pro at this Terracina beach life by now. The tourists are back, just as
I'm in Vienna and hungover but it's Friday and I promised you (or mainly myself) to pop out an Old Man Antonio fix on this holiest of days so: OLD MAN ANTONIO: E, I'm going now. ME: Great. OLD MAN ANTONIO: I'm tired. I'm going straight to bed. ME: No partying tonight? OLD MAN ANTONIO:
OLD MAN ANTONIO: All men cheat on their wives. ME: Is that so. OLD MAN ANTONIO: Yes. In fact, there is only one woman a man will never cheat on. ME: Really. OLD MAN ANTONIO: Yes. A pumitrozzola. ME: A what now? OLD MAN ANTONIO: A pumitrozzola. It's a portmanteau. PU - puttana*- MI -
CAST OF CHARACTERS E: Writer. American. Early 30s. Breathtakingly gorgeous. OLD MAN ANTONIO: Pensioner. Early 60s. Italian. Haunts the bar where Liv goes to write. Scatters outrageous, unsolicited advice like so much birdseed. MARCO: Policeman. Italian. Mid-40s. MARCO was once one of E's interview subjects for an article she was planning to write. FRANCESCO: MARCO's
At night, there are the nightspots and free concerts. My group of friends tends to meet up around midnight - when my friends in the tourism and hotel industry get off from work; when the nightspots start getting packed - and those of us who don't live at home* and might not have eaten dinner