There's a festival of the pig's bladder in the next village that I don't want to miss." "I think I'll stay here for un poco longer. The phone rang at the restaurant that evening. Rick threw the ball a world record distance and. It was the final play of the Italian Super Bowl and Parma was trailing. "I'm Livvy, an American history of art student, and even though you are congenitally stupid I'm going to fall in love with you and take you to Florence to appreciate the wonders of Italian art." "You're right," Rick agreed, as he spotted another woman at the bar. "I am a highly strung woman with a complicated personal life," Gabriella, the soprano, smouldered. "And I fancied the woman singing Desdemona. "It was nearly as good as Oklahoma," Rick enthused. "What did you think of Otello by Giuseppe Verdi, Italy's greatest ever composer, at the Teatro Regio, one of Italy's finest opera houses?" Sam asked him. But at least he had met some nice locals who would read the guidebook out loud to him and show him the cultural points of interest. Rick was depressed about losing his second match.
Just don't forget to lose your second match to create some narrative tension before winning all the rest." "Carry on like this and we'll get along fine. "You're getting the hang of this now," he said. Sam nodded encouragingly before spending several pages talking about the local curing process. We take pride in our cooking and like to spend a long time talking to each other at meals."
"Can we stop at a McDonald's? I'm starving." They also sell gas by the litre rather than the gallon. "OK," said Rick as they got in to Sam's car. Look, to get us started, why don't you start by asking me some brainless questions so I can explain a few of the basic differences between the US and Italy." It's just a feelgood travel romp to show that Italy may be foreign and bad at football - they play soccer here - but even airheaded jocks can appreciate the quaintness if they really try. "No gangsters, then?" Rick asked, somewhat disappointed. He's writing something homier and cuter this time." "But this is a John Grisham book and we're in Italy." "I guess you must be in the mafia," Rick whispered. Rick had never heard of Italy, but it sounded a long, long way away and a long, long way away was the place he needed to be.Ī week later, he was greeted at the station. Three thousand euros a month plus an apartment and a car." "I've got you a contract as the pro quarterback for Parma in the Italian league. "There is some good news, though," Arnie said.
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