Rent Payment #3: La dolce vita!

It's hard to believe that I moved into my place 2 months ago. I'm not sure if that's due to the stacks of boxes and packing material still lining my entry way, my partially furnished rooms, or the fact that I'm never really here but alas, the calendar told me rent was due.

First things first. It absolutely sucks to get handed a stack of cash (of the American dollar variety) from one bank and take it to the Italian bank to only get a thinner stack of monopoly money handed back. I seriously had to take a second look today since rather than 50E notes I was handed 100E notes making the swap even more pathetic. (I think this is why I stick to the ATM when I just need market money since I don't have to think about the real conversion rate.)

Cash in hand, yes-I pay in cash here, I knocked on my neighbor's door. (It's pretty much a cash economy which is killing me not only for purchase tracking but also on all my cash back awards from my credit cards.) 

Timidly Signora de Scotto opened the door but a big smile crossed her face as she recognized me and beckoned me in the kitchen, pulling out a chair for me to sit. After our business was over (signing the receipt/passing off the skinny stack of funny green (yet sparkly) euros), we chatted. Well, more like the game of charades that her husband and I always play. Once again my early AM departures was brought up and then I heard caffe. I honestly thought she was asking if I liked drank it with getting up so early and the next thing I knew she was rising up from the table to make me some. She tinkered around the kitchen and before I knew it a slice of panettone was in front of me. I know it was panetonne since when I mentioned torta, I was corrected.

I tired to ask about the rain but she started talking about the doors to the driveway. I haven't hit them that many times. (Shush Joe. Right now. Just shush. I haven't seen you bring your car through the gate since it arrived.) She wasn't talking about that but rather once again telling me that they keep it closed for security. Well, maybe. Then she thought I was asking about the blinds for my windows and mentioned that I'm never home, not even on the weekends.

Wow. I just realized the few sentences that would have taken had we both understood the same language would have taken 60 seconds. As it is, with her extremely limited English and my pathetic Italian it took way too long. Our game of this continued for some time (I was there over an hour!) until her phone rang. Several times she had mentioned that she'd call her son but because of the time difference he wasn't available but that he could be our translator.

The phone caller wasn't him, but a friend who works at the posta and although said she didn't have a great English vocab set she did so I let her know. That's right, the phone was handed to me. It was only then the whole blinds/doors thing got figured out. Want to know what started it? I was asking her for the word for rain in Italian and apparently my gesture for rain looked more like pointing at the curtains? So much for my charade skills! Once we both hung up with her, I told her that I'll have Enzo let her know when I'll be home. I also was told when the owner (her son) will be in town. Now I have motivation to get this place cleaned up/unpacked and to also figure out what else needs to be taken care of.

With my sunflower espresso mug empty, a few crumbs on my plate, and our conversation topics exhausted I started to shift in my seat to get up. She asked if I'd like more cake to go. After a few seconds of hesitation I said sure and about a 1/4 of the entire thing was in front of me to take home. The look of "oh wow, that's a whole lot of cake" must have been on my face since she told me "breakfast."

That's it. I'm sold.

The woman is telling me to eat cake for breakfast. I knew this was the right place for me.