Golden H.S.

5. Wednesday

If you made it this far congrats and welcome, come in make yourself at home.  This is what you have been waiting for.  So now the chapters will be segmented by days.  Much like any truly great song you slow it down at the breakdown and we about to take it nice, and slow ;)

The next morning Sofia was more than happy to direct me to find the best cappuccino in town. I'm headed there now with my bag on my shoulder and books in my hand and my head swiveling back and forth as I take in my surroundings in the daylight. I chuckle as I pass the commercial café that she warned me about. Sofia predicted it would be full of tourists and lacking in flavor. When I turned on the street she told me that I would find book shops and eateries spaced between what looked to be residential buildings. This definitely felt like it was more for the locals and I was looking forward to what I would find. A few more turns and I found exactly what I had hoped for. It was nothing more than a hole in the wall, little espresso bar and bakery. Upon opening the door I heard the little bell chime and a round faced elderly woman appeared from behind the counter. Her kind eyes took me in as the aroma of the baked goods mixed with caffeine filled my nose. The interior was small with no visible place to sit, just some space to stand around the counter. There wasn't a huge display case, in fact it looked like there were only a few items to choose from but they all looked expertly made.

"Ciao, caffè e pane dolce per favore'' I say in what I'm sure is a pitiful version of Italian. It's important to me to attempt to communicate in the language of the country I'm in. I can suitably ask for coffee, food, water and bathrooms in nine languages. The rest I rely on my phone for but I do try and speak it and I find that people mostly find my attempts endearing. Except in France. French people do not have the patience to hear you butcher their language. Lesson learned.

I delight in watching the movements of this woman, who in my head is someone's sweet Italian grandmother. She shuffles about the back collecting the necessary items to complete my order as my eyes roam around taking in the behind the scenes workings I'm catching. This place truly looks well loved by the owners and locals. Sofia said it has been run by the same family for more than 80 years. I found myself imagining the old woman in front of me in her youth flitting around the kitchen with the carefree movements of someone in their prime doing what they loved with their family. Living out there best and worst memories in a place as sweet as this little café.

"Signorina"

My attention focuses back on the woman as she hands me my order and I carefully hold it and my other items as I maneuver my way out the door I came in and to a table two top table. I set down my drink and pastry and books and settled in. In no time at all I enjoyed the pastry, which was made of the most delicate dough and sprinkled with powdered sugar. I did try and savor my coffee but the flavor was so rich It wasn't long before I was back inside ordering another.

From behind me I hear the bell chime as a male voice with a British accent "If you can get all that set up for next week, I'm ready on my end. We will talk more later. Arrivederci"

It sounded to me like a kid making business deals. I didn't turn to look, I just chuckled silently to myself and scooted over to await my order, giving him room to place his. I was watching the woman behind the counter shuffle about.

When he spoke to the old woman he attempted the same simple Italian as I had and I smiled to myself thinking I didn't do half bad. I took my refill back outside. Looking around and now realizing there were people at the other two tables, it had gotten busier out. I sat at my table and sipped my espresso and continued to make notes in my journal while flipping through my architecture book. Before long, I saw the kid from inside coming out and looking around for a place to sit with his drink.