Tall, Fair and Handsome

To me, life is a smorgasbord.   I want to do it all.  Hear it all. See it all.  Taste it all.  And of course, buy it all!  So when I travel, I love to tour famous sites like the Domus Aurea, St. Peter’s Basilica, the Pantheon, Hadrian’s Mausoleum, an Etruscan  museum  (I adore the archaic smile and as a lover of all things romantic, the Sarcophagus of Cerveteri has always held a special place in my heart: a couple lying together in an embrace on top of a bed-like sarcophagus with that mesmerizing smile…more on that when I write about Rome), Mozart’s House, Versailles and the Louvre, to name a few; I enjoy eating in restaurants built in the 15^th century, strolling  through squares and off the beaten paths,  imagining what life was like way back when. And if I can find time to do a little Retail Therapy in between sight-seeing, all the better.

But, I’m equally excited to meet new people who begin as strangers and often become lifelong friends. Especially if they are tall, dark and handsome.  Or in this case, tall, fair and handsome.

When the train pulled into the station in Florence, Tall, Fair and Handsome immediately helped me with my luggage.  I of course offered to treat him to a visit to the chiropractor or a visit to a masseuse-whichever came first.  Smiling at my suggestion accentuated his adorable dimples, which made me pause for a moment.  He wheeled our luggage outside where we could see the hotel from the doorway of the station.

While the cobblestones posed no problem for our bags on wheels, walking in stilettos on cobblestones was much like trying to avoid landmines.  I would have taken up an entire Alan Funt Candid Camera episode with my cautious, more like hilarious, zigzagging between the irregular wide-gapped stones, and nearly taking a couple of unlady-like spills.  It made me appreciate the original concept of Roman sandals. But let’s face it.  Charlton Hesston couldn’t get away with stilettos anyway, so wearing Roman sandals was a no brainer for him and me in a cute flirty dress would look less than girlie; I’d probably look more like Spartacus minus the hairy legs in the original Roman shoe.  Do or die, I like my stilettos. 

It was too early to check in to the hotel, so we went upstairs to The Hotel Baglioni’s roof top restaurant for a glass of wine and some lunch. We were greeted by a  maitre d  who looked just like actor James Woods and spoke English with a charming Italian accent.

He seated us by a window, apologizing that it was the only table available.  I looked outside and had a view of the Duomo. Apologizing for this seat would be like apologizing for not having ice cubes in a glass of water for a nomad in the desert.  I was beyond grateful.  I had a view of TFH, the Duomo and an Italian James Woods look-alike.  Life was pretty good.

I abandoned my typical American habit of eating quickly, and leisurely enjoyed  my dish of tortellini floating on top of pesto made from zucchini  and dried tomatoes garnished with fresh basil and sliced parmigiano reggiano cheese. 

TFH offered me a taste of his lunch which was picture perfect. He placed a little bit of grilled vegetables and a thin slice of Scarmoza on a fork and gently placed it in between my lips. The taste was tantalizing as was the gesture. 

The trip began with a bit of drama on the train and culminated in a lovely lunch with a handsome stranger.  I couldn’t wait to see what adventures were waiting for me in Florence.  And would I have company?

Sipping Pino Grigio in a chilled glass, I leaned back in my chair and looked at my gourmet meal, the TFH, and the Duomo. Sometimes it’s the simple pleasures in life that make my heart sing and my imagination soar.