The great thing about not speaking Italian, or speaking it so badly, is that we have all kinds of adventures that would just be ordinary to other folks.  Take renting a movie.  Aside from the technological prowess required to pay for, reserve and retrieve the DVD from the automat, there is the fun of selecting one.  The titles and descriptions are all in Italian, even though most of the movies are American and can be viewed in English.  So each time we go, we scroll through the list looking for something that has a picture we recognize or a description that has a few words we know.  They, of course, try to trick us by changing the name of the movie, not just the translations.  For instance, “Il Colore del Crimine” turned out to be “Freedom Land”.  To save our sanity, we decided to go through the list alphabetically, and just pick one that starts with each letter.  We’re up to K.

On one of my morning walks, I passed a little opening that had a sign advertising a concert, so I stepped in to see what it was.  They explained that it was a private club, you could join for just 5 euros, and then have dinner and see the show for 25 euros.  So I made reservations for that night, and what a hoot it was!  They showed us into a cavernous room with vaulted ceilings, heavy wood-block tables and brick walls, with nooks and crannies that had the feel of the Tabard Inn in DC, if you’ve ever been there.  At 7:30, the chef started ringing an enormous cow bell and there appeared on the buffet table the most sumptuous assortment of vegetarian dishes we’d ever seen.  On another table, you could help yourself to glasses of wine and bottles of water, or pay for hard liquor from the bar.  Since the price was only 25 euros each, we figured this was the whole dinner and filled ourselves up on lentils and rice and fantastic vegetables and talked about how amazing it was that they could fill a whole theater with vegetarians (most of the guests, however, appeared to be American art students).  Then the chef started screaming things at the top of his lungs every ten minutes or so: “Mushroom Risotto!  Ready in 5 minutes!  The most delicious risotto in town!”  “Tripe!  The Tripe is Ready!  Come and Get It While It’s Hot!”  and so forth.  At least, that’s what we think he was saying.  After each announcement, people would come running down with their plates, like a cattle call.  Obviously it wasn’t all vegetarian, but everything we tried was truly, truly wonderful.  People were comparing: “I’m on my sixth plate.  How about you?”  After two hours of this, everyone who could still move shifted their chairs to the center of the hall, and we heard a terrific jazz performance by 5 female saxophonists – we think four students and their teacher.  I never even knew there was such thing as a bass sax or a baritone sax (you wouldn’t believe the size of these things!).  We’re still hoping to see a real opera, but until the elephants cross the stage of the Roman amphitheater in Verona, we’ll have to settle for hidden delights like this one!