The summer between my sophomore and junior year of high school I traveled around Europe to compete with my traveling choir, Da Capo. For those who care, I sing soprano two.
For morning rehearsal, we would perform in churches that were on the way to the next competition, often times in small towns. We loved the acoustics and the locals loved the free music.
On this particular day (pictured below), we were in a small Italian community. With time to spare, Liz and I (red dress) ventured out into the rain and explored the small shops.
I am my father's daughter in the sense that I love coffee. A small cafe caught my attention and reminded me of my white chocolate caramel mocha obsession.
(I have since graduated to vanilla soy milk lattes.)
Three men with giant mustaches engulfed the tiny chairs that placed them around a wooden table. They eyed the obviously tourist teenagers as we approached the register, presumably wondering why we were in this tiny town.
"Ciao! Mi scusi. Parla inglese?"
He shook his head, "no," avoiding eye contact.
In an enthusiastic, yet slow pace, "White - chocolate - caramel - mocha?"
Again, "no," with a violent head nod.
Glancing at the table of snickering men- it clicked! Each mustache sipped a small shot of espresso and chased it with another beverage. The words "latte," "mocha," "breves," and probably "Italian sodas" meant nothing to them.
"Coffee? Espresso?"
Finally shaking his head yes, "Uno? Due?"
"Due," Liz wanted a drink as well.
My Italian phrase book studying finally payed off.
Because we both hated the actual taste of coffee, I inquired in flavoring.
"Caramel?"
He grabbed a bottle Bailey's Caramel from a side shelf back, motioned towards our drinks and raised his eyebrows.
Liz and I exchanged a quick glance and smirk and in unison, "Si!"
He cracked a large smile, displaying his yellowed grin and mumbled something in Italian as he stirred this foreign concoction for these crazy foreign girls.
The three men and the employee all burst into laughter... something about American girls. We giggled along with them.
"Grazie milto!"
"Arrivederci!"
We waved and said goodbye as the laughter quieted. One of the mustaches blew us a kiss.
Liz and I sang and swayed with a bit more swagger that day, understandably. ;)
