Sunday Escapades

As I mentioned earlier, not knowing much Italian can be problematic at times. One of these times was Sunday, when Meredith and I decided to go to a local supermarket called the Coop, a mile or two away. We just recently got our bikes fixed up and wanted to take them for a maiden voyage. Although we were at the Coop a few days ago with Dr. Webb and John Rose, we couldn’t remember where it was and so enthusiastically set off in the wrong direction. Eventually we stopped and asked an elderly lady for directions in our very poor Italian. She explained—completely in Italian—where the Coop was and we were quite proud of ourselves that we were able to understand. However, she kept saying something about domenica. Nevertheless we headed towards the Coop, braving macho Italian drivers and weaving through pedestrians, finally arriving at our destination. Only when we saw the doors were shut and the lights were off did we realize that domenica is the word for Sunday, and the lady must have been trying to tell us that the Coop is closed Sundays, as many Italian stores are. We were disappointed but still proud that we had interpreted at least part of what she had told us. We ended the day happily—with a gelato, of course.