my mom, roma and venezia
If you want to capture a woman's interest, do not send her flowers or shower her with beautiful compliments just say two words in your most sincerest voice and you will have her - "I'm lost."
Before I delve into the secrets of courting a woman, I will have to tell you a few background stories.
My mother is an extreme Type A person. We arrived in Roma on a bright sunny day and you could see a slight haze hovering over the stazione that could take your breath away if you exerted too much energy. My mother has a terrible habit of wandering aimlessly until I become so frustrated by carrying 25 kilos on my back that I just explode into a series of expletives and want to throw my bags onto the ground. If you had an opportunity to see my photos, you will notice how red my shoulders become when carrying my bags for two minuites....so you can imagine what it would be like to carry them for fifteen or twenty minuites for no reason. My mom would let me rest for a few minuites as she searched for whatever she was looking for, but then she would return screaming that we had to hurry to our next destination. I would have to sprint in 38 degrees celicus heat with 20 kilos of luggage or carrying two 2 litres bottles of water. I would race to wherever she was going only to discover that I would have to wait in line or sit for a long time. I wondered why I had to kill myself in this way since there would be times I felt like I couldn't breathe with all the weight on my shoulders and running around aimlessly.
A perfect example of her behavious is when we were in Firenzie heading towards Rome and she made me sprint next to a train that was not suppose to depart for another 15 minuites. Despite walking next to the train to the nearest entrance, she thought we would not board on time. Needless to say I had multiple heat strokes due to this insane ritual of having to sprint to places for no reason. Each sprint made me weaker for the next one until I would have spend several hours in the hotel room to restore my energy.
I was pleasantly surprised when I went on my first optional excursion with Trafalgar tours and the frightening tour guide who seemed to be an equal match for my mother in Type A personalities when we strolled around the city at a relaxing pace. That night still marks the best night for Gelato. Riccardo took us into an alleyway sprinkled with small resteraunts and told us to walk further in until we found a place we really enjoyed. It just so happend that my mother and I choose the same place he did. He had a beautiful Italian woman with him and since he wore a wedding band, we simply assumed it was his wife. We finished before them so we decided to walk around and occasionally walk by to see if he was still with the beautiful woman.
Once he was done, we as a group walked over to a place for free gelato. It was honestly the best I ever had. The people would begin by picking up a waffle cone and then ask you what two flavours you would like. Then they would pile the ice cream until (no exaggeration here) it was like four inches high or the size of your hand from the bottom of your palm to the tip of your middle finger. There was such a smooth and creamy taste that made it irrestible. My mother doesn't really know how to eat ice cream, so someone had to explain to her that she should lick the sides or else all the scrumptious ice cream would melt and keep trickling down her fingers.
It was a marvellous evening, but I discovered that the next night was not as great. I was still recovering from my heat strokes at the hotel when I learned that our tour director actually left people behind on his tour to the Spanish Steps and Trevi Fountain. He left Shuyan and Ruth at the steps and they had to find their way to the fountain. It wasn't that surprising that Shuyan did not want to join us the next night for the gondola ride in Venice. I had also started hearing other people start to complain about the tour director, because they found his humour offensive and sometimes he seemed plain rude to people. Some of the women were taking an interest in him, but were also commenting on his flirtious ways.
I guess I should not have been surprised when Li said she didn't want to drink too much champagne, because it makes people drunk easier and Riccardo replied, "well why do you think I keep offering it to you ladies." I started to take a liking to him once he began speaking about his time in Sicily and his home. At the end of the gondola ride, we joked with him that he should bring his girlfriend or wife for a romantic ride. He looked upset and told us he didn't want to talk about it, because he didn't have a girlfriend or wife. I looked at him with a perplexed expression, because now I didn't understand why he wore the wedding band. I already figured out the dinner woman was a passenger on the parrell Italian Dream tour.
We stepped off the gondola and the group immediately followed Riccardo through the small passageways and footpaths in Venice when he announced twice that we were lost. I think all women can empathize with me when I say this is a rarity for men. I could have videotaped this moment just as proof that men can actually admit they are lost. He asked us whether we wanted to turn back and ride on the gondola's home or to continue. Li suggested that he give us our money back and he gave her that Riccardo look. For some reason, his eyes always look like he is completely mesmerized by what you have to say. You could still tell by his expression that he was not too pleased with her suggestion and then she joked about how he was so drunk that is why we got lost. Although everyone on our gondola was laughing at that reference, he seemed embarrassed. I walked up to him and said, "I trust you." He looked at me and replied, "you trust me?". I looked him straight in the eye and said, "I trust you. I know you will guide us in the right direction. just keep walking." Everyone seemed to agree and so we kept on walking.
I started to explain Riccardo to Ruth in hopes that my crash course on Italian and Sicilian history and how it influences Sicilian humour would shed some light on our tour director. I gave examples of how Sicilians were like newfies in some regards and by the time we wandered into San Marco piazza she had a new appreciation for Riccardo. She said that I seemed to have quite a deep insight and understanding into people and made it easy for others to understand that person. Riccardo suggested that we all get lost in the streets of Venice if we were to really enjoy the city. Despite my experience of getting lost in places like Dublin, Venice seemed a great place to explore without the need to rush from one tourist trap to another. I have always enjoyed just wandering at my own pace and that came in handy the next day.
I had no idea that I would spend the next day or so becoming Riccardo's public relations department or that I would develop a love affair with Italy and Sicily that would change my life forever.
Before I delve into the secrets of courting a woman, I will have to tell you a few background stories.
My mother is an extreme Type A person. We arrived in Roma on a bright sunny day and you could see a slight haze hovering over the stazione that could take your breath away if you exerted too much energy. My mother has a terrible habit of wandering aimlessly until I become so frustrated by carrying 25 kilos on my back that I just explode into a series of expletives and want to throw my bags onto the ground. If you had an opportunity to see my photos, you will notice how red my shoulders become when carrying my bags for two minuites....so you can imagine what it would be like to carry them for fifteen or twenty minuites for no reason. My mom would let me rest for a few minuites as she searched for whatever she was looking for, but then she would return screaming that we had to hurry to our next destination. I would have to sprint in 38 degrees celicus heat with 20 kilos of luggage or carrying two 2 litres bottles of water. I would race to wherever she was going only to discover that I would have to wait in line or sit for a long time. I wondered why I had to kill myself in this way since there would be times I felt like I couldn't breathe with all the weight on my shoulders and running around aimlessly.
A perfect example of her behavious is when we were in Firenzie heading towards Rome and she made me sprint next to a train that was not suppose to depart for another 15 minuites. Despite walking next to the train to the nearest entrance, she thought we would not board on time. Needless to say I had multiple heat strokes due to this insane ritual of having to sprint to places for no reason. Each sprint made me weaker for the next one until I would have spend several hours in the hotel room to restore my energy.
I was pleasantly surprised when I went on my first optional excursion with Trafalgar tours and the frightening tour guide who seemed to be an equal match for my mother in Type A personalities when we strolled around the city at a relaxing pace. That night still marks the best night for Gelato. Riccardo took us into an alleyway sprinkled with small resteraunts and told us to walk further in until we found a place we really enjoyed. It just so happend that my mother and I choose the same place he did. He had a beautiful Italian woman with him and since he wore a wedding band, we simply assumed it was his wife. We finished before them so we decided to walk around and occasionally walk by to see if he was still with the beautiful woman.
Once he was done, we as a group walked over to a place for free gelato. It was honestly the best I ever had. The people would begin by picking up a waffle cone and then ask you what two flavours you would like. Then they would pile the ice cream until (no exaggeration here) it was like four inches high or the size of your hand from the bottom of your palm to the tip of your middle finger. There was such a smooth and creamy taste that made it irrestible. My mother doesn't really know how to eat ice cream, so someone had to explain to her that she should lick the sides or else all the scrumptious ice cream would melt and keep trickling down her fingers.
It was a marvellous evening, but I discovered that the next night was not as great. I was still recovering from my heat strokes at the hotel when I learned that our tour director actually left people behind on his tour to the Spanish Steps and Trevi Fountain. He left Shuyan and Ruth at the steps and they had to find their way to the fountain. It wasn't that surprising that Shuyan did not want to join us the next night for the gondola ride in Venice. I had also started hearing other people start to complain about the tour director, because they found his humour offensive and sometimes he seemed plain rude to people. Some of the women were taking an interest in him, but were also commenting on his flirtious ways.
I guess I should not have been surprised when Li said she didn't want to drink too much champagne, because it makes people drunk easier and Riccardo replied, "well why do you think I keep offering it to you ladies." I started to take a liking to him once he began speaking about his time in Sicily and his home. At the end of the gondola ride, we joked with him that he should bring his girlfriend or wife for a romantic ride. He looked upset and told us he didn't want to talk about it, because he didn't have a girlfriend or wife. I looked at him with a perplexed expression, because now I didn't understand why he wore the wedding band. I already figured out the dinner woman was a passenger on the parrell Italian Dream tour.
We stepped off the gondola and the group immediately followed Riccardo through the small passageways and footpaths in Venice when he announced twice that we were lost. I think all women can empathize with me when I say this is a rarity for men. I could have videotaped this moment just as proof that men can actually admit they are lost. He asked us whether we wanted to turn back and ride on the gondola's home or to continue. Li suggested that he give us our money back and he gave her that Riccardo look. For some reason, his eyes always look like he is completely mesmerized by what you have to say. You could still tell by his expression that he was not too pleased with her suggestion and then she joked about how he was so drunk that is why we got lost. Although everyone on our gondola was laughing at that reference, he seemed embarrassed. I walked up to him and said, "I trust you." He looked at me and replied, "you trust me?". I looked him straight in the eye and said, "I trust you. I know you will guide us in the right direction. just keep walking." Everyone seemed to agree and so we kept on walking.
I started to explain Riccardo to Ruth in hopes that my crash course on Italian and Sicilian history and how it influences Sicilian humour would shed some light on our tour director. I gave examples of how Sicilians were like newfies in some regards and by the time we wandered into San Marco piazza she had a new appreciation for Riccardo. She said that I seemed to have quite a deep insight and understanding into people and made it easy for others to understand that person. Riccardo suggested that we all get lost in the streets of Venice if we were to really enjoy the city. Despite my experience of getting lost in places like Dublin, Venice seemed a great place to explore without the need to rush from one tourist trap to another. I have always enjoyed just wandering at my own pace and that came in handy the next day.
I had no idea that I would spend the next day or so becoming Riccardo's public relations department or that I would develop a love affair with Italy and Sicily that would change my life forever.
posted by Ophelia Pace at 5:08 AM
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