A Like a Piece of Gristle

Heading into the city on the eve of the National Holiday.   I went to Lens Crafters.  They have the contacts that I need.  It was kind of stupid to drive all the way into the city just to get contacts but they're a precious resource.  Without them, I can't see.   And when you're down to the last pair, you'll know it.   You start doing dumb things like extending the use of an old pair for a second or a third day, which feels revolting  

This time I got their Wechat.  “Ni sao wo.”  I did.  They said they would deliver.  Ahh, but they need a We chat account for payment.  I have plenty of RMB in my we chat account but I’ve come up against some transfer limit so the whole ability to function as a citizen here is hampered.  Perhaps I can talk them into a cash payment on arrival.  We’ll see. 

Later I rendezvoused with the Mrs. at Gelati, the one of two restaurants within walking distance that has consistently good food and the only one that has consistently good wine.  Antonio is lovely.  He’d picked out something from Napoli for my wife who had it open by the time my Di Di driver dropped me off in front of the restaurant.  She was sitting their beneath his large wall poster of the Ponte Veccio looking lovely.  I reminded my wife that I’d taken the girls there, though she’d yet to see it herself. 

The topic somehow got on to taxes in Italy.  Antonio mentioned that that rates are up to 67% which sounds particularly absurd.  My wife kept chewing that fact over and though I was keen to return to the nice things we’d seen in Florence, my wife worked on this fact like a piece of gristle with old Antonio.  He described the challenges of being a restauranteur in Italy, which made China sound easy.  "You can’t", he explained, "fire anyone.  So everything is done creatively. "

He had to go, eventually and visit other tables, so we talked about the Italy that was and the Italy that is and how it fits into the rest of Europe, until my plate of lasagna had arrived. 

Sunday, 9/30/18