Are you kidding me?

It started off well enough, this Wednesday morning in Naples. Two days ago Francesco, our bus driver, informed us that he had a wedding to attend today and would not be driving his route. He informed all the parents as he picked up their children. That meant that we would be making the 40 minute walk to and from school today. Apparently the concept of substitute driver non esiste.

We rose early so as not to miss what has become our ritual 45 minutes of cappuccini, cornetti, and internet at a local bar before the bus ride to work. Tepid coffee and headlines that help us keep a tenuous hold on the news back home. Though I must say, my addiction for the New York Times and the Washington Post has been reduced to a mere occasional twitch. I am immersed in the Elena Ferrante quartet instead, reveling in my acquaintance with nearly every piazza and street of Naples that creates the setting for the novels.

Allora, this time we chose Leopoldo, as we had been eyeing its upscale decor and equally upscale pastries since we arrived. Toby had his usual marmellata, and I my usual Nutella filled cornetto that schizzato (squirted) in all directions and scattered a profusion of powdered sugar. We chatted with Lily on the occasion of her 25th birthday, paid the ridiculous 14€ bill and set off. The predictably sunny day that we have come to expect did not materialize, but the rain did. So without an umbrella, a raincoat, or even a hood, we made our miserable way to school, and arrived 40 minutes later like we’d just stepped out of the shower.

Suor Piccola took one look at us and ran to get towels and a hairdryer. She clucked a bit about my catching my death of cold, which is pretty much a prerequisite belief of all Italians (wet or wind = pneumonia and the possible end of life, end of story).

Suor Piccola is about 4 foot 2. I am Hagrid to her Hermione. I’m a Brobdingnag in the land of the Lilliputians.

I asked her where she had been for the last 6 days. We have missed her smiling face and relentless good humor. She said that she had been at a silent retreat, just she and the Lord, and had expunged all the bad stuff (my lame translation). She used gestures here as if to grab that bad stuff and cast it out. Then she elbowed me and said,”It was like making love! You know, like you and your husband!” And then she giggled, and I was standing there dripping all over the place and laughing with this nun as if we were sharing a dirty joke.

Le voglio bene queste suore!

I love these nuns!