Sight and Song

Watching the Olympics has brought another unfortunate German word to the forefront of my mind.....mannschaft. It means "team" but sounds and looks like a word which should feature prominently in some pornographic publication, rather like fuchsmühle. EXAMPLE: The German mannschaft made its formidable presence felt in fuchsmühle. Ahhh, German.

I believe I've discovered the name of the 4-legged neighborhood bully....Felix. I frequently hear a man out calling for Felix and this event often occurs right about the time some hideous growling and hissing is taking place right under my window. I would like to suggest neutering, but it would likely fall on deaf ears. Better to let the little blighter terrify the neighborhood than to make a trip to the vet.

I've been lazy the last couple of days. I would rather watch the Olympics than take my evening walk. Don't worry, I'll get back at it. The thought of exercise still doesn't fill me with anticipation, even though I know it's good for me. That likely plays a big role in my difficulty controlling my weight. I really don't enjoy exercise, nor do I prefer healthy foods to unhealthy ones. Just something I will have to deal with day by day, minute by minute.

There are a number of freelance musicians who play in the streets of this ancient and colorful town. My favorite is an Italian who plays the loveliest sweet music on a violin, usually romantic and ethereal. I could just plop down and listen for hours. My least favorite is the one man band. The gent with curly, longish hair wears a Crocodile Dundee style hat and sings with a voice ranging from a pseudo Australian accent to a faux Texas drawl. He plucks away weakly at a banjo, whilst banging determinedly on a little foot drum with an occasional whisk of a set of weak cymbols. Invariably a kazoo buzzes in like a swarm of killer bees honing in on a target. Seeing these men I am reminded of the pair of accordianists in Cortona who stationed themselves on either end of via Nazionale, so that if one didn't catch me, the other would. I would avoid these two like the plague, but learned before I left that the one's name is Christian and he's from Romania. Now he has a name and I see he's a human trying to wrest out a living from a small instrument and the good graces of visitors. I will tip him the next time I see him and try to remember to be more kind in the future. Thank you, Terri, for helping me see.