Summer shows up on the train to Alberobello

Once again, the train trip was a “show”. Because nothing in this country really makes sense or is a product of efficiency, I had to back track from Gallipoli two and half hours north to Bari, only to then head south again on a different FSE train for almost 2 hours. Really, if I could have gone straight from Gallipoli to Alberobello, I think it might have taken an hour total. Ah yes, but then I/Summer wouldn’t have gotten to meet Mr. Casa Nostra.

So we all pile onto this complete piece of crap train that clearly does not have enough seats for all of the people pouring in. I was fortunate enough to get a seat, but not fortunate enough to have the seat across from me remain unoccupied. Enter Mr. Casa Nostra. This man in his late 40s who screams mafia stereotype parks himself across from me and begins staring at me as if I am a freshly made panino and he hasn’t eaten in 3 weeks. I do a great job of ignoring him, while he utters who knows what at me in Italian, until he reaches over and grabs my wrist to get my attention. I promptly tell him I don’t speak Italian and look back out the window; this is not a problem to MCN. He continues to ask me questions and shake my wrist if I don’t answer. If I don’t understand him, he just asks me again louder. Yeah, that’s helpful! To avoid further embarrassment and attention being drawn to me, I break out my dictionary so I can answer his questions without all of Puglia being in on it.

Finally we get to the heart of the matter. MCN begins using sign language to supplement the Italian I do not understand. He wiggles his ring finger at me and asks if I’m married because he doesn’t see a wedding band. Shit! I tell him “no I’m not married but I do have a fiancé.” He replies, very clearly “oh no problem, single”. Yup, only in Italy does engaged mean single. Dammit!!! At this point we stop at yet another one olive tree town and more people get on. The only seat open is next to me, so a younger guy sits down and says buongiorno to me. I nod and smile and MCN leans into the guy, shakes his head at him, wags his finger no, and motions for the guy to move further away from me. I’m seeing a horse head in this guy’s bed if he doesn’t obey. Fortunately, for him the slides away by a couple of inches and looks the opposite direction. There goes that ray of hope. MCN then starts asking me my name over and over and over. I keep answering “no capisco, no capisco” at which point he takes my dictionary from me and looks up words for me. Desperate times call for desperate measures. [Angela, if you’re reading this, Summer is making a special guest appearance!] Without being able to ignore the translations, I give a fake name, Summer. She’s a faithful standby, has never let me down before, let’s hope she is just as reliable abroad. Now that he has my “name” he begins looking up more words. This is a double edged sword; he can’t talk to me while he is researching, yet I can’t claim ignorance once he has found what he is looking for. Long, like 40 minutes worth, story short, MCN wants to know when I was returning to the USA and if I would be coming back to Italia anytime soon. I of course say that no, I don’t think I will be coming back. He proceeds to pull out a pen and paper and wants my phone number in the states so he can call me and fly me back to Italia to stay with him at his house. He says we will only eat and sleep at his house, nothing else. Yeah, except for those weird little hand gestures he kept using along side eat and sleep. I ask if my fiancé is invited too, he shakes his head and acts like he doesn’t even hear the word fidanzato. There was no way on god’s green earth I was giving up any of my digits to this guy; Summer had a different plan. As he is telling me his stop is next, thank god, and he really needs my phone number I write down the following contact information: Summer 410-582-0883. Haaaaaa, wish I could see the look on the person’s face, who inherited my Glen Burnie phone number, when Mr. Casa Nostra calls asking for Summer.
The train stops, MCN shakes my hand and proceeds to give me the double cheeked kiss goodbye. After he is off the train and has reached through the open window to shake my hand again, the guy sitting next to me looks over at me and says in very clear English, “your name is not Summer, that was not your phone number, and you are one very tricky girl.” Nicely played, Me/Summer!