Visiting Italy

I had a hard time sleeping with the heat, humidity, and jet lag. After finishing my notes I put the computer aside and tossed and turned for several hours. I never eat much when it's hot and in my sleep-deprived idle thoughts I wondered if Dracula was really a vampire or just jet-lagged and hot.

Ja's house is in the foothills above Menton. In French Menton is pronounced Meh-toh like you've started to pronounce the word and then changed your mind. There are thousands of words like this in French and I think they're designed like this on purpose because there is nothing a French speaker likes better than to correct a foreign speaker's pronunciation. Castellar and Castillon are two villages near Menton. One is pronounced 'Kas-tellar' the other is pronounced 'kas-TEE-oh'. There are also a lot of words with a kind of throaty gargle that would be used in English as a noise expressing exasperation or frustration. The French throw these sounds into normal conversation. Ja talked about how difficult it was to pronounce the French word for squirrel. Écureuil is pronounced 'aycuhghhoy' with a guttural sound in the middle like you're trying to dislodge some phlegm. The French love to hear you try to say squirrel.

We got up at 8:00 and after a breakfast of toast and tea, drove down to Menton so Ja could buy a sim card. Because the process would take a while, Amanda and I went out to the rocky beach to swim. There were a few topless women sunning themselves on the beach. It wasn't titillating but I did find it curious that only one in ten French women went topless. It seemed like the wrong percentage - I could understand if the numbers were reversed and nine out of ten women bathed without their tops and the last extra-shy girl dressed up like queen Victoria, but perhaps this was my American upbringing. I wish we were less uptight about these types of things.

Amanda didn't go topless, nor did she swim because her bathing suit still hadn't arrived. I went swimming twice, rinsing off each time at the freshwater showers near the road. The showers were a single vertical pipe set in a concrete pad with two shower heads at the top and a button that would turn on the water for a short time. The first time I went to rinse off, a buxom woman came up to the opposite side of the pole and we had an awkward little shower together. Her swimsuit went transparent when it got wet.

Ja spent some time in the cell phone store and when he came out he said they told him to turn his phone off and on every hour until it started working. They also told him it wouldn't work in Italy (a few miles away). I had been told my phone would work in Italy but it didn't and this was frustrating because we were still waiting for word on Amanda's missing luggage.

When we called about the luggage that morning, they told us it had flown from Montreal to Paris and from there to Nice but they didn't know where it was at the moment.

After swimming we tried to call them again but they didn't answer. We weren't sure if they were avoiding us, if they were on one of their legendary 3-hour lunch breaks, or if we misunderstood the complicated European phone number format.

In Menton we found an ad for a Fourth of July celebration, where you eat an American breakfast, have a special cake made for the occasion, eat pizza, take a selfie with the president, or get shot at by a new york city cop.

That afternoon we drove into Italy, taking the toll highway into Sanremo. The city was hot and crass and we ended up driving around for a while looking for a parking spot before we managed to drive down a narrow, one-way road that was closed for roadwork at the far end. There were no signs and we didn't know the road was closed until we had driven most of the way down and had to stop. To make matters worse a line of cars had followed us and we had to wait for everyone to realize the unmarked road was closed so we could back out. Even as we escaped this trap we saw other cars driving into the same dead-end.

Still looking for a parking spot, we drove up the hill and looped back around towards the beach but this time we were stopped and turned around by a traffic cop. The moped rider following us was also forced to turn around and he actually bit his knuckle in consternation.

Ten minutes later we found a parking space on this same narrow lane and got out to walk through the city. We bought bread, cheese, and meat at a grocery store and sat on the step outside to eat our lunch. The alley smelled like urine and Amanda was depressed.

The shops that lined the beach were tacky but the scenery was pretty. It was also oppressively hot and after a little gentle walking I started feeling lightheaded and had to stop and cool down in the shade of a palm tree. When I felt better we continued down the path that ran along the beach and eventually found a faucet which we assumed was potable and tried to strike up a conversation with a sunburnt Korean man who was biking across Italy but he spoke no English, French, or Italian.

Despite the heat I didn't want to go swimming because there was no place to wash off the salt water. The only outdoor showers were fenced off and owned by the hotels lining the waterfront. So we sat on a stone wall in the shade of a tree while Ja ran down and jumped in to the Mediterranean.

Below us a group of young men jostled and joked and made obscene comments and gestures at every woman who walked by. They all had crew cuts and were deeply tanned and seemed to be speaking Arabic. Another three of their companions drove up in a speedboat and waded in to join the group and they all started rolling joints in between catcalls and horseplay. One man climbed up onto the walking path to better shout lewd comments at every passing woman.

An older Asian woman walked by and when they called out to her she turned and shouted back. They shouted back and forth for a while then she approached while they laughed and jostled one another. They had a short conversation and they gave her some money. Amanda and I were sure we were watching a drug deal or some sort of public prostitution until the woman pulled a bottle of oil out of her purse and started to give one of the guys a massage.

As we were just on the border between Italy and France my phone was going in and out of service and as we waited for Ja we tried calling the airline again to see if they knew where our luggage was. Miraculously, we got through and the person on the other end told us it had arrived in Nice but it was impossible for us to drive over and pick it up. Instead they would hire a baggage handling firm who would in turn hire couriers from off the street to hand deliver the luggage in their free time when they weren't enjoying a long French lunch at the local bar, sleeping, or playing in a checkers tournament.

When we asked if there was any way to meet the courier the agent told us no and he could do nothing.

That evening we drove from Sanremo to the Italian town of Ventimiglia located right on the French border to meet two of Ja's coworkers at a famous Italian restaurant. The place was called 'Pasta e Basta' and the door frame was festooned with regional awards. I ordered the chocolate infused pasta and we all passed our dishes around and shared a carafe of white wine.

After the meal the couple bought dessert, Ja had a coffee float, and the waiter brought out four small bottles of lemon liquor.

We got back to the house at midnight and I finished writing up the events of the day at 2 in the morning. My thoughts drifted back to my vampire theory and I wondered when I would pick up a taste for blood.