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    CLJobe
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

ARROW - 32. Chapter 32

We started to walk toward the Spanish Steps. It would take approximately 8-10 minutes to walk to the steps but with me walking with Colin, it’ll take 15 minutes.

Approaching the steps, “Armand, is that another square?”

“Yes, it’s called Piazza di Spagna and it’s the start of the Spanish Steps. There is a fountain in the center called Fontana della Barcaccia which means the fountain of ugly boat. The river overflowed and deposited a boat on the Piazza so the fountain was named . The fountain was sculpt by Pietro Bernini and his son, Gian Lorenzo Bernini. When we have time we can read about Bernini.” I knew he would be interested in him as he was with the Gaudi.

“I know why they call it a boat, it looks like a boat.”

We stood in front of the stairs looking up. He spotted a plaque in front of a house to the right of the steps. He had to read it. “Armand, this is the house of John Keats. I have read some of his poems. It’s now a museum, can be go and check it out?”

“Sure, I think another poet was a frequently visitor, maybe you might know him as well.”

“Shelley, he is mentioned on the plaque.”

Walking through the house I could picture Keats living here. It was a small home, one bedroom, kitchen, small dining area and a large center room lined with shelves. Walking through the house, checking out the furniture of the time and browsing the books on the shelfs, Colin went and bought one of his books on poems.

There was a tea house next to house, Babington’s tea room. We had to stop to have a cup of tea. I could see into Colin’s mind, he was living in the 1800’s having a tea with Keats and Shelly. This was one side of Colin I hadn’t known. Finishing our tea, we were ready to tackle the stairs.

Starting up the stairs, we stopped at the first terrace garden. While we were there, two young ladies approached us. “You are Americans, no?”

“Yes, we are Americans. You speak English very well. What are your names?”

“My name is Carla and her name is Teresa, but she doesn’t speak English. I learned English because I want to go and live in America. I’m going to be an actress.”

“My name is Armand and this is Colin.” Colin just smiled.

“Can we go with you? We can explain about the Steps and the history of the Steps.”

I thought why not. This was Rome, so I agreed.

I listened as we started to climb. “There are 135 steps from the bottom to the top. But every so often there are the terrace gardens. The steps were a copied from Michelangelo’s design for the steps in the Laurentian Library. You should go there. I can take you there.”

“Maybe the next time I am here.” I chuckled when Colin said that. He was a little uncomfortable.

“At the top of the stairs there is the church and the Piazza Trinita dei Monti where the church, Trinita dei Monti is. When we get there, we can go and have something to drink.

I was getting hungry and I knew that Colin was hungry. I would fill Colin in on some of the facts about the history of the steps later.

Arriving at the Piazza at the top, Carla pointed out the church, you couldn’t miss it. There it was directly in front of us. “Carla, we are hungry could you recommend a restaurant.”

“Yes, we can go to my favorite restaurant. The food is very good.” I caught the we. I guess lunch will be payment for being accompanied by these young girls.

She led us to a small restaurant on a side street. Waking there we passed a lot of boutique clothing stores by well known designer. I whispered to Colin, “Do you want to stop at any of these stores for a souvenir?”

He looked at me and then the girls, and shook his head no. I’m sure we would have stopped if we were alone

The restaurant Carla led us to was a small cafe off of a side street. Looking inside, all of the tables were full. “We can sit outside.” She led us to one side, and there was a terrace covered with an awning.

Colin and I sat at one side, Carla and Teresa sat across from us. A waiter came out with the menu. Teresa asked him if Angelo was working, he said he was. Now the question who was Angelo.

One way you can tell a restaurant has clientele from different countries is lookin at the menu. They print the menu in four languages, Italian, of course, and this menu had Spanish, French and English.I expected English and French, but the Spanish was a surprise.

“We will order for you, okay?”

I thought this will be an expensive lunch. “Okay, you order for us.”

A young man came out, went and kissed Angela. That must be Angelo. The girls, with out looking at the menu, ordered lunch.

The first thing that the young man brought out was the wine and wine glasses. Next he brought a large platter, the antipasto and individual plates with cutlery. I noticed there were five plates, so he was going to eat with us.

He set a plate at the end of the table near the restaurant door and Angela as well. With the food came the chatting, in Italian. Angelo put food on plates and handed them to Colin and I. The girls filler their own plates. Angelo then opened the wine and filled our glasses. In English, “Welcome to Angelo’s.”

From that I assumed Angelo’s father, also Angelo, owned the restaurant. Colin and I ate a similar antipasto at the Italian restaurant back home. There wasn’t anything on the plater that we hadn’t eaten before. We ate slower than our friends, by the time we had finished eating our antipasto, they had cleaned the large server plate. Angelo took the empty plate back inside.

Returning I expected him to bring out the main course. Instead a waiter came with empty plates. In Italian he told the girls that Angelo’s dad had a job for him and he would join us as soon as he finished.

The waiter went back inside, and returned with a large platter of spaghetti. I could smell the spaghetti and I knew what it was. I asked the Carla what they called this dish?

In English, “It is called a pasta with a sauce made with fish.”

“Puttanesca?”

“Yes, you know?”

“Yes, it is one of my favorite.” Colin looked at me. “It is a sauce made with anchovies. It’s ideal for a restaurant because it is made very fast.There is a history how it got it’s name. When we are home, I’ll explain it to you.”

Angelo retuned with fresh bread and more wine. He dished out the pasta, filling Colin and my plate first. I had eaten this dish in the States so I knew what to expect. Colin hadn’t and I wasn’t so sure he would like it. I watched as he took a fork full, mumbling with a mouth of food, “It’s good.”

By the time the bowl was empty and the three bottles of wine were empty, Colin was smiling. “Did you enjoy?”

“Yes, Carla. The food was excellent. Is the wine home made?”

“Yes, Angelo makes his own wine.”

With the table cleared, Angelo brought out cups of coffee and dishes of gelato. Colin smiled but I wasn’t sure if it was the wine we had with our meal or just being here.

With a smile, Angelo gave me the bill. It wasn’t as much as I thought, but it was enough. I thanked him in English, Carla translated for me. I caught Colin’s look, he knew I spoke some Italian.

With lunch finished I knew it was too late to continue with my plans for the day. I thanked Carla for being out tour guide but we had to fo back to our hotel. “If you come tomorrow, we can show you more.”

I nodded with a smile. Colin and I headed back down the Spanish Steps, heading back to our hotel. But I had one more stop to make, Palatine Hill. It was on our way back to our hotel.

Copyright © 2022 CLJobe; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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