Italians in the house

Although it's very cramped in the apartment, I hafta admit, I'm kinda having fun with Bepe's family. It's strange--we can't communicate directly, but they sort of remind me of Newfoundlanders. They are friendly and direct.

Last night, Bepe's Dad directed a remark at me. I asked Bepe to translate. He said (blushing): "Dad says it's nice to see a girl who is not too thin, not like my sisters over there" (the girls duly giggled).

Just while I'm deciding whether to be offended because I've been called fat or not, Bepe adds, "He's right, it wouldn't suit you to be skinny. You are just right the way you are."

While that doesn't mean much coming from the guy who used to date one of the skinniest girls I've ever seen, I guess it was sort of cute.

I will say this for them though: despite what they think is "terribly windy" weather, they have made it their business to see as much as possible. They've been to Phoenix Park where the Mamma enjoyed the Papal Cross, she being a religious sort. They've been to the National Art Gallery, where apparently the only thing they enjoyed was the solitary Caravaggio. They've eaten at the restaurant where Bepe works and they have cooked up a storm here.

But I think they should really try some local food, at least once. Maybe they won't like it, but surely they should try. I've been told the Porter House has quite nice food. I have been there for their beer and it's good. So I'm thinking that that would be a place to take them. I'd like to foot the bill--they have been feeding me on pasta all week after all--but can't afford it. I'll check with Bepe before suggesting because I know they are on a budget.

In other news, getting together with Saoirse tomorrow to catch a flick. Pure escapism. Nothing intellectual. I've been working hard and the last thing I need is to go to the cinema and be expected to think!