Maestro

We are staying in a convent in Spoleto, Italy. Graham, who is traveling with us, spent a couple summers here and led us to it. The convent mother is incredibly nice (and old), and Graham told me that when he was here one summer, she leaned back and slapped the hell out of one girl who was talking back to her.

We walked back to her office yesterday and Graham whispered 'Here comes the big TV.' As we rounded the corner, the huge flat-screen TV came into view. I guess that explains the large satellite dish near our room, in the courtyard of the convent.

In Cinque Terre, we spent most of our nights hanging out with the staff of The Blue Marlin bar, including the owner, whom we dubbed Maestro. At the end of each night at the bar, he would put on Pachelbel's Canon, followed by Mozart's Requeim, as loudly as possible. He would stand on a bar stool and conduct. Or play an enormous air gong.

One evening, he drove past us as we were eating at a cafe. He stopped his car, rolled down his window, waved at us, then smiled and turned up the car stereo, which was blasting Mozart's Requeim again. Followed by more air conducting.