Butt really...

I’m excited to report that I can tick off one of my goals of this vacation – I’ve had my behind pinched. And, honestly, I listed that sarcastically, the Italians having that somewhat oblique reputation of excessive machismo. Prior trips have not shown that to be true, so I wasn’t really expecting anything of the sort.

But today, I was having a lovely afternoon by myself. I walked my friend to her art class and then decided to take the long way home. I went and looked at David again, popped into a few shops, gasped over prices, calmed myself down with a glass of wine, had some gelato and then decided I needed a nap and so headed back to our flat. Crossing the Arno is a rather arduous task…the main bridge, the picturesque Ponte Vecchio is somewhat hellish in that it’s crammed with tourists and the aforementioned spatially unaware natives, so I avoided it and trotted down the river to another bridge that was less crowded. Traffic was heavy, and so I was standing at the curb, waiting for the light to change so that I could cross without needing to be sure that my last will and testament was first in order.

And then it happened. The light turned green, and I stepped out into the crosswalk…and simultaneously, I felt a hand on my tush, and a VERY firm squeeze. I jumped forward, yelped, and grabbed my bottom, looking behind me to see a man scooting away on his Vespa, grinning at me and giving me the thumbs up as he sped down the street.

The NERVE. Though I definitely made the day of the tourists who were crossing with me. They certainly hadn’t expected to see THAT on their way around town.

Despite my annoyance, I also feel like he should get extra points for goose-ing me while in motion. That had to take some effort on his part. And balance. I hope it was worth it for him - I had to get an extra helping of gelato just to sooth my jangled nerves.

And, now! Off to find George...