Blythe and I, being naturals at the whole "lets take 7 hours to eat dinner" thing that Italy seemed to have going for it, of course were the last ones to leave Volterra's best restaruant, whose name I have forgotten.
However, if you go there, just ask whoever you're staying with where to find Arge's (short for Argentina) place, and they'll probably know exactly where to find her, and heck, they will probably be related to her, b/c the town is rather tiny.
Arge, generous broken italian interpreter exemplaire, spoke to us about her name, her game and her love of restaruant owning. She is all about just chatting away for no good reason other than the best reason - just because. We spoke to her in english/italian, but by this time of the trip/night/wine bottle I was pretty confident in my italian speaking, and probably even ventured outside of the present tense a few times, hey-o.
The Precioius Georgian Couple were seated in the corner, and slightly impressed with our speaking italian, but my favorite Precious Georgian Couple moment was yet to come. Of course, the Precious Georgian Lady, PGL, had already asked us if we had boyfriends, so she knew we were single ladies (shock!) travelling. Being a true PGL, she was on the lookout for us at dinner, and made sure we knew that the Germans dressed as Fiddler on the Roof Chorus members (who were travelling around the Continent fixing people's roofs, as per some tradition -- they also had a cool walking stick) were "lookeein at y'all!" And then she did a little flapper-esque dance to show that we were single, they were single, hey! It was pretty hilarious.
Anyway, Arge ruled, and my anchovy pie ruled (it was quite inTENSE, but I tried to eat it) And my coffee had foam that looked like italy. It was another night of just chillin' with random people.
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