JANUARY 1 2008
AMERICANWAY 43
tic. I bought my hip (if I do say somyself)
Italian eyeglasses from an optician here a
few years back. Another time, two days af-
ter covering the2004presidential election,
I found myself in an unprepossessing but
excellent seafood restaurant nearby called
Slauko, sharing a feast of Adriatic bounty
with three others while gazing out at the
vast,politically indifferentgulf fromwhence
it all came. On one Saturday afternoon,
I turned a corner onto Via del Ponte and
thereby stumbled upon the city’s monthly
antique market: The rows of dusty books
and lustrous picture frames transformed
the old quarter into a centuries-oldmemo-
ryof itself.Andone evening, I foundmyself
invited to a local enoteca’s anniversary par-
ty, where I became enamored of awaitress,
and she apparently of me— though I had
to excuse myself to grab what I promised
herwouldbe a quickdinner at the great Al
Bagatto. Alas, the restaurant’swine listwas
a siren song, itsarrayof oliveoilsandexotic
local shellfish toodemandinga lover…with
the inevitable result that when I finally re-
turned to theenoteca, though thepartywas
stillwell underway, thewaitresshad settled
