Alone in Italy

harrysbar2.jpg One of the finest lessons I ever learned in my life was from my grandmother, "Mamie." We were having dinner at Harry's Bar in Venice many years ago on a warm summer night in July. My parents had given me, as a graduation gift from high school, a month in Europe. I had gone through numerous brochures and found the perfect trip, 10 countries in 28 days. I was exhausted on day 22 but Mamie was quick to remind me, as I was slouched in my chair, my head nodding dangerously towards what is probably the most expensive spaghetti in the world, that most people would break their left arm to have the opportunity to have dinner on a Saturday night at Harry's Bar in Venice. I sat up straight in my chair and have always remembered her poignant words.

My best guess is that I have been to Europe 500 times since then. I know that sounds a bit exciting, even leaning a bit on the pretentious side but many of those trips have been for work at my job as a 'Stewardess.' As much as I have become jaded and familiar with foreign countries, comfortable with the language barriers, teaching myself enough words from every language to order a good meal and exploring the world in a way that is all my own, I always remember Mamie's words.

But sometimes I am so dog tired after serving 200 'guests' all night -- where I'm lucky to get a one hour crew rest, forced to rumage through meal carts, hoping to score a fruit and cheese plate and eat a few bites of some leftover rolls, while forcing a smile on my face as the man in 2B just has to have his 27th glass of chardonnay -- I care about nothing more than a comfortable bed and some peace and quiet. I don't know about you but staying up all night is getting to be a bit difficult as I get older, especially when there is no drinking involved for myself.

After a 5 hour nap, I will get up, get dressed and head to the crew room, which is a sanctuary that many hotels have for regular airline employee guests. It's unmarked, a special key is needed and it is a place where we can drink and eat and drink more, socialize and relax with other crews from all over the world, share  a few war stories and tips on a favorite local restaurant. Sometimes it is nothing more than a hotel suite but in some places it can be a bit fancy. Several years ago I was in Amsterdam for New Year's Eve, on a work trip and the hotel hosted a private party for airline crew only. My fellow crew members attended, along with the crews from Singapore Airlines, Lufthansa, British Air and the airline in Iran. I will say that those girls from Singapore don't eat or drink (pretty sure they have to maintain a size 2 figure) and the crew from Iran? It was all men and I am sure they were having visions of a public stoning as my friend, in rare form, was dancing on the table singing "I Will Survive."

spanish_steps.jpg I was in Rome last week and there was no crew room. I woke up late, after everyone had ventured out and I could have easily turned over and slept until the next morning. However, I knew there were many people in the world who would break their left arm to have dinner in Rome on a Saturday night. The hotel is in a charming neighborhood, a few blocks from the Spanish Steps so I ventured out and cased the neighborhood until I found a small, quaint Trattoria, as they call it. There were only 10 or so candlelit tables inside but there were 4 empty tables outside and since it was only 8:30, early for Italians dining out, I thought it would be safe to ask for a table.

I stepped inside and requested in a combination of broken English/Italian and sign language, if it would be possible to have a table for one for dinner. The man, who turned out to be the owner, quickly whisked me to my table, pulled out my chair for me and said in his version of broken Italian/English and sign language asked, "What would you like for your dinner?" I was expecting to be shown a menu which I could decipher through and point to what I wanted but there was no such thing. I had this dumbfounded look on my face, feeling like the lonely tourist with no friends, and before I could reply, he graciously said "I will bring you some very good things to eat." Ok, that works, at least in Italy. I don't suggest doing that in Germany because the one time I agreed to that, I asked the waitress what I was eating and she said in her heavy German accent "It is a small animal from the forest." Where I came from, that would most likely be possum or skunk.

rome01.jpg I was quickly served a beautiful plate of tomatoes, drizzled with olive oil, balsamic and fresh basil, a selection of interesting bread, a lovely piece of Burrrata, which is a concoction of mozzarella and cream along with a plate of Italian prosciutto. A half carafe of wine, along with a bottle of balsamic vinegar and olive oil, I was in heaven. A few minutes later a plate of potatoes appeared, that looked like chunky sweet potatoes but turned out to be garlicky, not at all sweet. If I had to choose a last meal, this would be it.

Halfway through my dinner, an older distinguished gentleman and his much younger date sat down next to me. They were greeted by hugs and kisses from the owner and all the staff. I felt a bit intimidated sitting alone, next to them in an outfit that I could very well sleep in that night, since I am quite sure that the lady had spent all day in the hair salon, preparing to audition for the leading role in 'Evita.' The man asked, in a sentence that was 2 words of English and 20 words of Italian where I was from and I said "Atlanta." All I could make of his next sentence was one word, "Los Angeles." His date quickly translated that he was a famous Italian director who had an office in Los Angeles.

I finished ever last morsel of everything and the owner appeared and asked if I was ready for some pasta. I apologized profusely and said I loved my dinner but could not eat anymore. He said to me, I think, to finish my wine and come inside when I was ready for my check. So I did and he handed me a bill that could have been anywhere between 20 or 100 euros but I really didn't care. Turns out it was 20 euros; I was shocked. I told him I was staying at a hotel down the street and he made me promise I would come back on my next visit to Rome and I will.  He also informed me that I had been sitting by the most beautiful and famous actress in all of Italy. All I could think about was that it was Saturday night in Rome and  of all the people in the world who would break their left arm to have sat at my table.

 

Laura grew up in a small southern town in Georgia on a cotton and pecan farm where life centered around family, friends and good food. She has lived in Atlanta for 20 years and has been a Flight Attendant for a major airline for 18 years, traveling the world in search for the next best meal.