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I was walking around my new neighborhood and I stopped for a hunk of focaccia at a little store, un negozio. It was there that I had my first one-on-one experience with an Italian man. | |
| On my 1st day in Rome, the tale of a man and his salami | ||
| It all started when the man behind the counter saw my camera. He called out “macchina fotografica, macchina fotografica” and asked me to take his picture. I started to focus when he motioned for me to come behind the counter, and he ordered the other counterman to snap the photo. Meanwhile, he posed the two of us behind the salami e formaggio, grabbing my arm and wrapping it tightly around his neck. It is then that I feel his hand slipping higher and higher up my side. When I protested, he uttered some words in Italian that I did not understand, picked up a piece of salami, grabbed my breast, smiled and his buddy took the picture. Ah, Roma. | ||