The next morning Nancy said, “Enough of this, I got you into this guy’s house now I’m getting us both out. We’re heading to the city. Perugia.”Okay, so Perugia is no New York or Chicago, but that’s not what we went to Italy for. It wasn’t Milan or Florence either, but we really didn’t mind. We liked that it wasn’t what we were leaving—a house filled with an ill-tempered, disgruntled, unhappy grumbler. We had more energy than the car as we moved east at fair clip through the Umbrian hills.
We got there in the late morning. Started with a leisurely cappuccino and great conversation—two world travelers talking al fresco. Then we hit the streets for serious shopping and sightseeing. No coins in the fountain, but much discussion about the weddings and proposals that that might have occurred there. It’s fun when two people share the same sense of imagination. We watched the people who walked by, especially the couples holding hands and smiling. There were plenty. We made up stories about most of them—who they were and how they met.
We found a little hotel early. It wasn’t the house of luxury. We didn’t care. It wasn’t the house of the folks in Assisi either. We kept saying that. I guess we really we were glad to be away from there. Sometimes you don’t realize how much something bugs you, until you don’t have to deal with it anymore and feel the relief.
We skipped lunch. She was buying shoes. I wasn’t hungry. We spent hours in and out of buildings, looking at things, touching things, and talking—well trying to talk to people with what little Italian I still have. Then we headed back to our hotel for a nap, a little sleep before a night in the little city.
It was a night we both needed. We were in a little bar. The crowd spilled out into the darkness. In the loud music, there seemed to be people from so many places, speaking so many languages. Cognac, music, dancing, and laughter, lots and lots and lots of laughter. With each cognac my smile got bigger and my Italian got better. So did their English as far as I could hear.
The laughter had something to do with the legend we were telling. It was called, “The Legend of the Ogre and the Princess of Assisi.” The Princess got more beautiful. The ogre got more evil and grotesque as the night went on.
The cognac only got better. As did the music, the dancing, and the legend.
We were two Amercians in Perugia.
Laughter means the same thing in every language. So does evil ogre. That's so cool.
The cognac only got better. As did the music, the dancing, and the legend.
We were two Amercians in Perugia.
Laughter means the same thing in every language. So does evil ogre. That's so cool.
—me strauss Letting me be
4 comments:
so fun :0)
hope you are having a great weekend (hugs)
Hi Trace,
Yeah, fun. I had fun once. :)
This weekend my son is homee with us. That makes it special.
Hope you're is as special and fun too.
Lots of love, and laughter, and dancing to a beautiful princess who should never meet an evil ogre.
Liz
Hey Liz- Isn't it amazing how our ability with a foreign language gets better with Congac? I found the same thing when I was in France years ago. For me it was the Benedictine and Brandy which did the trick. Those were the days.
I'm glad the princess had fun, despite any old fart evil ogre.
Yeah, David,
The magic of the cognac and the brandy--it makes us speak in tongues! :)
Yes, it's tood to have fun.
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