Red Underwear and football...

At first we all assumed that Lorenzo was the way he was because of the fact that he was Italian, but eventually we came to the conclusion that Lorenzo was the way he was because he was only being Lorenzo. Each morning as we began walking, he would call ahead to reserve our next night's sleep, talking loudly with much animation to whichever unsuspecting soul answered his ring.  He always ended his phone conversations with rapid fire repetition "Ciao, Ciao. ciao....ciao," the last ciao echoing into thin air as he had already pulled the phone away from his ear. He would then look up to the five of us and say simply "Va bene." (vah baaayyy nay) And onward we all would walk towards our night's accommodations.  

A pilgrim has a very specific routine.. he begins walking early in the morning to avoid the scorching afternoon Italian sun.  He arrives at his destination between 1pm and 3pm, showers, washes and hangs the clothes that he walked in that day, explores the village he is staying in, has dinner, sleeps and starts over the next morning. Lorenzo though, added post shower stretching to his routine, which of course, was something we all should have been doing to ease our tight muscles. However, Lorenzo would strip down to a tiny pair of fire engine red underwear before enthusiastically commencing to stretch. I alternated between staring openly with a dropped jaw, snickering behind my hand while sneaking random peeks, and completely averting my eyes while trying to block out the flash of red from my peripheral vision. I strongly suspect that for years to come, the image of Lorenzo leaning to touch his toes while the sides of his bright underwear inch up his butt cheek will pop unexpectedly into my mind yanking me out of whatever moment I am in and taking me back to one scorching Italian summer.

Lorenzo also introduced me to the wonderful italian tradition of 'Aperitivo.'  Rather than just going out to a large dinner, Italians first head to a bar for pre-dinner drinks and snacks such as cheese, prosciutto and olives, before heading elsewhere for a sit-down meal.  Each day after thorough stretching, Lorenzo would search our current village for the central piazza, select an acceptable bar, purchase a Spritz for himself and me, and argue with me about why he feels as the man, he has to pay. After adamantly refusing my money, we would sit sipping our delicious drinks while watching life happen in front of us in the town square. Thanks to Lorenzo writing out the recipe for a spritz and Rome airport's Duty Free Prosecco and Aperol, I have happily brought home the tradition of Aperitivo.

Lorenzo gave horrible advice though. As we walked, we talked about many things and he watched me struggle with feelings I wasn't sure how to handle. His sage advice came in the form of an italian proverb "Occhio che non vede, core che non duole," or "what the eye doesn't see, doesn't hurt the heart." Lorenzo then explained that despite there being no romantic feelings between him and me, he still didn't feel the need to tell his wife that we had shared sleeping areas. "Why worry her with nothing?" he said.  Well...hmm. 

On the last full day of walking, I had wanted to walk alone with my thoughts and I became increasingly annoyed with Lorenzo for not leaving me so. I would stop to eat a peach, telling him to go on, only for him to reply with an "it's ok, I will wait." At one point I even sat down on a rock in the middle of the river telling him to walk ahead only to receive his usual response. After a few minutes he would hurry me along with his "Okaaayuh... Shall we go?... okaaayuh..." But even through my desire to lose him and my frustration with his tenacity, I knew that he was just trying to watch out for me and protect me. And maybe perhaps... he wasn't prepared to walk alone. 

 Dinner for Gilles... I worry about him..

A couple days before reaching Rome, Lorenzo, Nicoline, Gilles and I walked while discussing what we look forward to once we arrive home. Lorenzo described having a white fish with lemon, garlic and wine, Gilles anticipated  going for a run without the burden of a 15 kilo backpack, I mentioned mini pilgrimages to my neighborhood bakeries and Nicoline lost herself while expounding on the virtues of pancakes and the many possible toppings.. After an embarrassingly long discussion about pancake toppings.. our conversation merged seamlessly into soccer/football and our upcoming hopes for our respective leagues and teams. Gilles talked about the surprising strength of the Belgian team and I mentioned the scandals that have plagued the Italian national team and league. Lorenzo, of course,  piped in with a "Scandal? What scandal...I don't know of any scandals?"    

*****

Here in Chicago, summer is heading dangerously to it's demise. Children are buying school clothes and sharpening pencils at alarming rates and hectic fall schedules are beginning to take shape. Adding to the depression of a dying summer, The English premier league has begun with a characteristic Arsenal loss to a team much weaker... However, this season, I have new teams to watch. I will cheer loudly as Belgium plays their smattering of world cup qualifying games and I will smile with each win that Napoli is able to lay hold of.  Because I will know that in the moment of each win, someone I care greatly about will also be smiling.  As for Arsenal... Well, I will not be holding my breath...

I have attached below a very bad recording of a song I wrote and recorded during the South Korea/Japan world cup. At that time I had made a pledge to watch every match despite the fact that they were on Korean time. This, of course, had an adverse effect on my life. But I still laugh each time I stumble across this recording :)  

Enjoy!