Enrico is 50 and has long hair in a pony tail. He does construction work, renovating kitchens and bathrooms. He is nursing a pretty bad trowel-blister while they drink strong Italian coffee and rose wine at 11pm.
The two met when Pino took a class Enrico was teaching -- not quite an acting class, not quite a dance class, some kind of performance art movement thing. Pino showed me a video on his phone. I had no words in Italian to describe.
They asked what was next on my agenda and we got out my map to mark up the best places to go.
Apparently there is a town very near my next B&B where they burned witches at the stake.... interesting.... Also a botanical garden, an important archaeological site, an artist's colony, etc. We compared their suggestions to my research.
We talked about Pino's hiking / camping trip near the French border, where you can dive into the river like Greg Louganis.
They gave me very complicated instructions on how to get to the rental car office using the Metro... but I secretly decided that I would rather take the American Way and use a taxi. (Shhhhh...)
All the while tap tap tapping on Google to help fill in the words.
On my way to bed Nicolo (Nicoli? Nicola?) the big fat cat came to visit. She strolled around my room, smelling the corners and investigating my luggage. Then she strolled out.
I closed the door, and went to bed.
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