If this isn’t your first time here, you may have read my harrowing account of stupidity in Lost in Translation: The Wall. Well, I’m here to tell you I have the distinct honor of being a screw up in more than one language. This time? Italy.
Ahhh, Italy. The history, the architecture, THE FOOD! The 'Eat, Pray, Love' chick got it right. If you want to eat until your belly button pops out, Italy is the place to go. Not only does it have the best cuisine but the best waiters, too. In Italy, being a waiter is a vocation, not a way to help pay for college or pay the bills until some Hollywood producer discovers you. Food is an art. The chef? An artist. The server? Dang, I don’t know where I’m going with this just trust me, Italian waiters are awesome. They strive to make your meal pleasurable, memorable.
Ahhh, Italy. The history, the architecture, THE FOOD! The 'Eat, Pray, Love' chick got it right. If you want to eat until your belly button pops out, Italy is the place to go. Not only does it have the best cuisine but the best waiters, too. In Italy, being a waiter is a vocation, not a way to help pay for college or pay the bills until some Hollywood producer discovers you. Food is an art. The chef? An artist. The server? Dang, I don’t know where I’m going with this just trust me, Italian waiters are awesome. They strive to make your meal pleasurable, memorable.
Anyway, during one of our trips to Venice, my husband and I discovered a wonderful little restaurant near Basilica di San Marco, which sounds way cooler than St. Mark’s Basilica. The atmosphere was beautiful, the menu scrumptious, the waiter? Ohhhhhh, man. Tall, dark and handsome never looked so good.
He came right to our table as soon as we were seated and started rolling out the charm. That smile, that accent -- I don’t care what people say, Italian is the most romantic language in the world. Though I had no idea what he was saying to me, in my heart I knew it was something like this:
Senorina, are you enjoying your stay in Venice? (I nod.)
Never have I waited on someone so lovely. I hope you find my city lovely, too? (I nod again.)
And the shopping. Please say your husband has indulged you with a trinket or two. Maybe some jewelry? A Gucci handbag? (Another nod.)
Etc., etc., etc.
And so it continued for a minute or two, he with the questions and me nodding like a bobble-head. My husband just looked on and smiled. “Looks like I need to learn Italian,” he chuckled. Well, as it turned out, I was the one who needed to learn it because five minutes later the waiter came out with a serving tray the circumference of the moon. I swear I saw his knees buckle right before he set it down. That’s when I realized our earlier conversation had sounded more like this:
Senorina, would you like to start with a glass of our special house wine? (I nod.)
I’m sure you would like an appetizer, as well. Can I bring you some cheese and bread to start? (I nod again.)
Our salads here are also amazing. Can I interest you in our caprese salad? One for your husband, too? (Another nod)
Etc., etc., etc.
Now I can’t say it was the only time I was suckered into buying something due to a language barrier, but I can say that it was the most enjoyable one. Like I said, in Italy the waiter’s job is to make your dining experience memorable.
He didn’t fail at his task.
He came right to our table as soon as we were seated and started rolling out the charm. That smile, that accent -- I don’t care what people say, Italian is the most romantic language in the world. Though I had no idea what he was saying to me, in my heart I knew it was something like this:
Senorina, are you enjoying your stay in Venice? (I nod.)
Never have I waited on someone so lovely. I hope you find my city lovely, too? (I nod again.)
And the shopping. Please say your husband has indulged you with a trinket or two. Maybe some jewelry? A Gucci handbag? (Another nod.)
Etc., etc., etc.
And so it continued for a minute or two, he with the questions and me nodding like a bobble-head. My husband just looked on and smiled. “Looks like I need to learn Italian,” he chuckled. Well, as it turned out, I was the one who needed to learn it because five minutes later the waiter came out with a serving tray the circumference of the moon. I swear I saw his knees buckle right before he set it down. That’s when I realized our earlier conversation had sounded more like this:
Senorina, would you like to start with a glass of our special house wine? (I nod.)
I’m sure you would like an appetizer, as well. Can I bring you some cheese and bread to start? (I nod again.)
Our salads here are also amazing. Can I interest you in our caprese salad? One for your husband, too? (Another nod)
Etc., etc., etc.
Now I can’t say it was the only time I was suckered into buying something due to a language barrier, but I can say that it was the most enjoyable one. Like I said, in Italy the waiter’s job is to make your dining experience memorable.
He didn’t fail at his task.
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