October 22, 2011

Naples, Italy. May, 1988

Whenever I travel with my friend Nick, we always wind up assuming nicknames drawn from our surroundings. In Turkey, he is Acili Ezme (a spicy, red pepper paste meze) and I am Ekmek Kadaif (a sweet syrup-soaked bread dessert.) In Paris, we can’t remember what Nick’s name was, but mine was Mimolette (a deep orange cheese.) And in Italy, where everything sounds so good in that most beautiful language on Earth, Nick is Uscita Sottopassagio (a sign in train stations indicating that the exit is via a tunnel under the tracks) and I am Svendita Totale (“Final Sale. Everything must go!”) It was a tough decision because of the many Italian options. I almost went with Caduta Massi (a highway sign indicating potential rock slides), mezzo-soprano.

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