Sunday, July 10, 2011
lunch in another city
Who doesn't love going off for a lovely lunch somewhere new? That's what I am doing tomorrow when I take the train to San Francisco to have a get-together with two women I worked with at Capwell's in Oakland. That was a very long time ago. In fact, I haven't seen one of them in probably 25 years. Last time was at a birthday party for the other woman's husband. It's too late for a lift or a tuck but most of us cherish antiques so not to worry.
One of my most treasured "lunch somewhere" was with my parents in San Remo, Italy. They were living in Nice, France for awhile and I was living in Paris. I took the train down to stay with them for a couple of weeks. One day my father ~ a fearless and curious traveler ~ rented a car and we drove to San Remo for lunch. We spent a couple of hours eating a wonderful lunch and drinking and laughing and having a fine time. When the bill came we tried to figure out just how much money we had spent; translating from lira (this was before the euro) into dollars but we had no idea what the lira was worth. Or we had just had too much vino de la casa. It seemed awfully funny to us but not to anyone else. We finally stepped out of the restaurant and my mother snapped this photo of us as we discussed where in the world we had parked the car. Was it off to the north? To the south? In back of the restaurant? Anywhere near where we are?
Eventually we found it parked by the edge of the flower market; nobody remembered a flower market when we had arrived. We then had a discussion about who should drive home and it was decided that I seemed to be the most sober so Daddy handed me the keys, got in the front seat and promptly fell asleep. It was Mother and I, as pilot and back-seat pilot, who finally got us back to Nice and to the Hertz car rental. I remember it was a fabulously beautiful drive home along the Haute Cornish overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. I remember this and I was driving!
I love this old and faded picture. I have it in a little frame by my bedside. The edges have turned dark and both of us are fading fast. But looking at it reminds me of that wonderful time when we went to lunch, not only to another town but to another country.