My cousin Nino comes to dinner with his family at the end of our stay with his wife Linda and their son who is four years older than George and very, very tall.
These dinners with Nino and his family are very special to me. They always make an effort to see us, even though they are very busy, and I feel that they may develop George's sense and connection to this family--his family.
They just got back from a vacation in the South Pacific, a two-day flight from Genoa through Germany and Los Angeles. A once-in-a-lifetime trip.
On the way there they went to the Grand Canyon. I ask them if they had taken the mule ride into the canyon and they hadn’t, they had been on a helicopter ride. They also stopped in Las Vegas, and they ask me about it. What’s the deal with it? I tell them I personally do not see the attraction, I have been there for work and would not ever consider going for fun. I like nature and quiet and old places, pretty much the un-Vegas. They were a little mystified by it too.
On my work trip, we stayed at the Venetian, and one of my co-workers told me that he imagined that this is what Italy looked like. A Las Vegas casino! Not.
They ask me if Americans eat fruit, they they didn’t see fruit served in restaurants. I tell them that grocery stores sell fruit, and that restaurants sometimes serve berries, frutti di bosco. They are a little doubtful, they imagine that even if there is fruit, it must not taste good. I tell them that where I live there are farm stands. “Ah, che bello.”
One time an American woman told me that all Italians want to move to America. That’s not really the case at all. America is a source of curiosity and fascination, and it’s a great place to visit, but Italians feel a little sorry for us.
