Meet Ugo...

I know a lot of you are curious about the single girls' travels and romance and whether or not I've found any here in Italy of all places.

Hmmm, should I let the pot simmer, boil, or overcook?

Well, here he is. Ugo. 

The 4-1-1:

I went over to the Walti's for dinner this night assuming another couple I met earlier that week would be  coming over as well and got surprised with this. The Ugo that other previous teachers swooned over.

The Ugo that had just gotten back from Brasil. The Ugo that is a physical therapist, and is also the neighbor across the way from the Walti's front door. Any physical therapy needs are welcomed by Ugo.

I get to the house, pull off my layers of winter clothes and go meet up with Jeannette in the kitchen to see what she's preparing. She lays it on me, "Oh, I invited Ugo over for dinner, Katiya and Vito couldn't make it."

Me: "Ugo, Ugo? The one the girls swoon over Ugo?"

Jeannette: "Yes, it should be okay, I invited over the boys friend as well."

Alright Mister Ugo, let's see what you're about...

Pause and wait for Italian Stallions entrance into the kitchen. My face went red in case you wondered.

Yea, it happens with black people too! Count yourself "lucky" if you actually see a black person blush.

It's a lot like seeing a unicorn. ;)

I would say erase everything you had in your head of what you'd assume he sounded like because you are probably on the money about how he sounded. 

His English was good, slight heavy accent on certain words, but understandable for most of the conversation.

He asks my name and so-on and so-forth. I tell him Ashante. And of course I get the, "Oh, like the French word?"

"Si, si, like the French word. I'm not saying nice to meet you, but I am Ashante, AND nice to meet you."

"Ohh, beautiful name." yadda yadda yadda. (gotta love that Seinfeld episode)

Ugo exits room,

(and this is why guys and girls are different, we do details like no ones business)

and I turn to Jeannette, flushed face and all wide-eyed, stepping outside to let the cold air hit my face. Come back inside and say, "Well he's attractive."

Go to the washroom to clean my hands and I hear, "Teacher, teacher... Where are you?"

Oiy VEY!

I walked out and started putting chairs around the table and go figure... who pulls his chair up next to mine?

 U G O.

...then rests his arm on the back of my chair?

 U G O.

You get the picture.

After a slew of strangely personal stories from the Walti's accounts of Ugo, and my sheer horror over

some stories that seemed too embarrassing to be told to a stranger, the conversation switched to me.

Personal stares and what not, made for an interesting night.

Consider this as your weekend treat. :)