Appendix D: Food, Vino, Vite, and Song!
t the end of the day, At the end of the day, we’re tired and hungry, so we seek out a local restaurant in our neighborhood. The Ristorante al Giorgione is just down the Via Garibaldi from our alleyway.
As happens, we have stumbled onto a real neighborhood restaurant. Luca, the proprietor is a folklorico singer. The ristorante is decorated with many pictures and pieces of art depicting he and friends, always with guitar.
We see the guitar on a stand, but note it only in passing. That is, until we have settled into a really good plate of gnocchi alla boscaiola and spaghetti alla ragu. With everyone served, Luca drags out the guitar, mounts himself on a stool, flips on the PA, and regales us with Italian folk songs. He’s got a strong voice and knows how to position himself about the mike. Song after song in big Italiano choruses. A pair of ladies on our right know all the words and sing along.
We don’t know any of the words, but we do well on the bouncing “La-la-la-la-LA’s.” After a few songs, the whole restaurant is clapping and singing.
Luca brings out his partner Kiki (his wife, we presume, and our waitress), to do a song. She takes her place at the microphone and sighs. The restaurant goes quiet in anticipation. She closes her eyes, Luca strums a few low introductory chords and then Kiki moves into a long, slightly harsh, slightly flat ballad about the joys and tragedies of love and vite. I close my eyes and imagine she’s the accompaniment to the end credits of an Italian movie. Oh, yes. It fits.
Ending to applause, Kiki exits back to the kitchen, but there is more. There are friends among the customers. Luca calls on an old gentlemen who nods and shakily rises from his chair. He takes his place at the microphone, closes his eyes, clenches his fists, and belts out resolute stanzas. The voice is cracked, the face old and weathered, but there’s fire in the delivery, reaffirming that Italia is a nation of song.