Roman Holidays

The trick is to look around as you breathe the night air of Campo De Fiori. Rome, almost 2 am and by the statue of Giordano Bruno a bunch of guys with too much beer in their loud words are still singing.  They must be tourists!  I’m walking back to my car now, exhausted, but content for such a great weekend.  That’s the trick to enjoy life, to catch this precise moment, when, at the end of a party, you’re going back home; you’re walking alone and as you’re revisiting in your head your night, you can feel inside that transition from being content and relaxed, to be absolute tired and sleepy by the time you finally arrive home. That transition is the cherry on top of my nights: In silence, I can hear the joy of that night, until then covered by the noise of a Roman Sunday night in spring. 

As I’m walking back to my car, still whistling some random Annie Lennox song stuck in my ears since I heard it a few minutes earlier from a car down the street, I pass by a bar, where the waiter, cleaning the last few tables outside,  is  swearing “porca puttana”  like there’s no tomorrow, by himself, to the air, to that lovely breeze that I guess he’s definitely not enjoying in this moment. “Yo Mike, what’s wrong with you? Relax” says his buddy.  “That American chick, that girl that was sitting here 2 minutes ago, had the guts to check my pockets. That bitch asked me If I stole her stupid camera!” There you go- I think- another damn tourist caught by a gipsy. They’re damn swift, you don’t even realize. Magic! Her camera was gone and she must have thought the waiter got it. Another lovely “picture” of Rome.

Anyway, I keep walking and I actually  make sure to have my wallet, you never know. I turned the corner and as  Annie Lennox’s “boat is sinking” again in my ears, I actually see a digital camera on the street, right there, in front of me. “Porca puttana” -now it’s my turn to swear.- How about that!  That gipsy must have run so fast that he dropped the camera!

“Roman Holidays” could have been the title of that photo shoot, starring a very pretty girl.  She was blond, curly hair, long, and a very cute smile. I wish I knew her name. I wish I knew her, actually!  I think in the picture she must have been sitting in Capri, or Caprì, as normally American say, still don’t know why. Then, I recognize the Amalfi Coast and Rome.  Some party with lots of people, go figure. Her Roman holidays seem to have been a lot of fun. Some romance too maybe:  There’s a picture with two glasses filled in yellow, orange juice? They’re on a table. It’s dark around.  Maybe, it’s night, or maybe who took the picture didn’t have the time to use photo shop yet. The table seems well set, it must be a nice restaurant. It can’t be orange juice. I refuse to think someone would order orange juice in a nice restaurant  for dinner. What else is yellow? A Mimosa. It could be a Mimosa served on a Romantic dinner in some fancy restaurant of Italy. A date? Why not. She’s beautiful, I’m sure she can get a date anytime she wants to, especially in Italy. I’m sure there’s some Italian Stallion somewhere for this lovely girl.  She looks young, you can tell from her skin, but mostly from her smile. Monalisa Smile. She must be a dreamer. Ok, now I’m really fantasizing about this girl!  So, maybe, they ordered a Mimosa just to break the ice. Who knows? In any case, she looks like she had fun in Italy and I like to think, particularly on that occasion.

It’s been awhile now since that night. I still have that camera.  I decided to post that picture. Maybe tonight, she’ll read my blog, by chance, precisely as I did find by chance her camera. She’ll let me know her name and when I’ll meet her,  we’ll have a Mimosa under the stars.  Why not? Roman Holidays with a stranger…  I’m a dreamer too, at almost 3 am of a Roman spring night.

 Sogni d’oro…