|
What
you get if you ask for "Latte" in Italy. |
|
She flew into Rome's airport very
early in the morning. When she finally got to the hotel she
booked near Piazza Navona, one of the most beautiful and
evocative squares in Rome. The receptionist told her he wouldn't
have her room ready any sooner then 12.00 noon. She wouldn't
have gone to bed anyway, but it would have been nice to take a
shower before starting to walk the streets of Rome. She had
already decided to stay up at least until 10.00 pm. She was told
that was easiest way to catch up with the time difference and
reduce the discomfort of jetlag to a minimum. The hotel was
going to keep her luggage in storage until her room was ready.
She freshened up in the restrooms downstairs, she got directions
from the concierge on how to get to Piazza Navona and off she
went. Not too
many people around at that early
hour and that made the place even more enjoyable. The air was
nice and fresh, the water spilling from the fountains sounded
like a carillon. Some delivery trucks eventually entered the
square and the noise from their engines disturbed the delicate
atmosphere a bit, but they were soon gone. All of the
restaurants and coffee shops had their tables and chairs out
already, she picked a place on the sunny side of the piazza and
sat down. |
 |
 |
She was tempted to order some of
the pastry she saw displayed on the counter as she walked to her
table, but she decided they looked really fattening. "Maybe
tonight after dinner" she thought. The waiter came with the menu
and tried to hand it to her, but she gestured she didn't need it
and just said: "Latte!" The waiter was surprised to hear this
attractive, well dressed, American lady speak Italian and
automatically replied: "Caldo o freddo?" At home, when she
ordered "Latte", they served her a nice cup of hot coffee with
milk and that was exactly what she needed after that long flight
and the coffee she was served on the plane. She didn't speak any
Italian, but she liked to pretend she did and the first one of
the two words the waiter spoke sounded like "Cold". She didn't
want her "latte" to be cold, she tried to repeat the second word
the waiter spoke. |
| She was thinking
that "caldo" must have meant cold in Italian, it sounded so
similar, than the other word the waiter spoke must have
obviously meant cold. So she said to the waiter: "No caldo,
fresno." "Freddo" quickly the waiter corrected her. "Freddo" she
repeated correctly this time. Seconds later the waiter returned
with a glass of cold milk, he put it on her table, smiled and
walked away. She looked at the milk and thought it was strange
that in Italy they would serve you a glass of cold milk before
bringing your "Latte". She just sat there for a while staring at
useless glass of cold milk and patiently waited for her "Latte"
to come. Noon was still far in time and she was in no hurry but
she wanted a drink and it wasn't coming. |
 |
 |
She
stopped the waiter as he walked past her on his way to serve
another table. "Latte" she said to him again. "Latte" he replied
pointing to the glass of cold milk on the table. "Freddo" She
almost shouted. "Freddo" repeated the waiter and, knowing no
English at all, he tried to say her by gesticulating that he
brought her exactly what she asked for: a glass of cold milk!
She couldn't catch sleep on the plane, she was tired from the
trip and consequently a bit nervous. She really couldn't see why
it was so difficult for the waiter to understand what she
wanted, after all "Latte" is an Italian word! "No" she said
accompanying the word with gestures, "No-cold" pronounced
distinctly "No-cold, latte-no-cold, latte HOT!" |
| "Ahhh!
HOT!" the waiter said. Finally he heard an English word he knew.
"Latte no-cold, latte HOT! OK! Subito! (right away)" Seconds
later he returned with the same glass of milk which he had
wormed up. She was ready to scream and she did: "COFFEE!"
"Coffee?" The waiter asked smiling because "coffee" was another
one of the few English words he knew "No milk? Coffee?" "Yes,"
she shouted "NO-MILK! COFFEE!" The waiter took the glass of milk
from the table and walked away. Two minutes later he returned
with this tiny little cup filled by one third of thick stuff
that looked like mud. Just a few steps away my friend Guido was
opening up his "shop". He sells paintings right on the square.
He sells paintings he does himself and paintings done by others.
He has a license to sell on the square, a license which is hard
to get and he's lucky to have. For what I know he still has all
the pictures he painted and he makes his money from selling the
good ones made by the real painters who don't have a license.
Guido likes women. We call him "Centipede" because a girl he
dated once called him that. She said his hands were all over her
that night, like if he had more than just two.
|
 |
 |
She
felt like if she had one hundred hands on her, like a centipede
in fact. Guido speaks good English and has girl-friends in all
of the English speaking countries, including New Zealand. He noticed that girl
sitting there just as he arrived and while he was unpacking his
stuff he was thinking of an excuse to go over to her table and
talk to her. When he heard her shout at the waiter it was like
music to his ears, it was obvious she was in distress and she
couldn't make herself understood. "Can I help you?"
he said once he'd came close enough. She explained what the
trouble was and Guido, while he told the waiter to bring the
lady a "Caffellatte" and an espresso for himself, sat down next
to her and explained that what he just said "Caffellatte" was
what she really wanted. "Caffellatte?" she asked. |
| "Yes" Guido
said and then continued "in case you want more coffee and less
milk in your drink you can ask for Cappuccino". In the meantime
Guido was keeping an eye on his Moroccan employee who wasn't
happy to do all the work of unpacking and displaying the
paintings alone while his boss was having coffee with a
beautiful lady. Guido took his time and explained
further: "Coffee shops in America, like Starbucks, have "Caffé
Latte" on their menu and that is wrong, the real name of the
drink is "Caffellatte". In America, and in all of the English
speaking countries in general, people like to shorten names, so
that's why "caffé latte" became "latte". It obviously had
coffee in it, so why bother pronouncing the word for coffee in a
foreign language? In America it works. |
 |
 |
You say the
word meaning in Italian and you get coffee with milk. In Italy
instead if you say milk in Italian it's milk you get!" The lady
loved her caffellatte and asked for another one. Guido loved the
lady and asked for more coffee. They kept conversing until the
Moroccan walked over to their table to tell Guido some clients
were asking for him. Before leaving the table Guido asked the
lady out and she told him she was going to be with her husband that
night. He was going to arrive later in the day from Germany
where he had spend a few days for business. "Too bad" Guido said as
he was leaving her "Thank you for the coffee. Ciao." He walked
toward his clients slowly and in the meantime he was checking the
tables of the other coffee shops to see if any other interesting
ladies where sitting there. |
|
