Piazza life

by Theresa Carpine
After a week in Cagli, I feel like I have a pretty good handle on “piazza life.” We go inside to order our drinks, we pick them up at the bar and take them outside, and we return to the bar inside to order another round or pay. Perhaps I’m a bit overconfident in my abilities, though, as demonstrated last night when I tried to pay for my glass of vino.

A different barista had served me than the young woman currently behind the bar. I had my money in hand to pay, but I assumed she knew that I was familiar with the Italian protocol, understanding that I wanted to close out my tab. I thought she was asking what I had to drink. “Vino rosso?” “Si, uno,” I said and watched her get another glass and a bottle of wine. “No, no, no,” I said shaking my head and waving my hand, “Il conto, per favore.” “Ah!” she nodded, putting down the bottle and glass before collecting my Euros.

Up until that moment, I had been very careful to say “The check” when I wanted to pay. Although I had adapted to the culture of piazza and bar life in Italy, she still saw me as an outsider, unfamiliar with Italian customs. The assumptions of both parties—the barista and myself—led to a moment of confusion between our cultures.