WAVING HANDS
It has nothing to do with food, despite having everything to do with food.
One of the most dangerous situations you can find yourself in, is having a meal with an Italian person. We wave our hands like we are surfing air waves. Which can be fascinating for a tv presenter or a belly dancer, but can be life threatening around a table.
It was an ordinary friday night and I took my BFF Natalie to Regatta, Rose Bay, for a quick Italian-style grilled fish.
I was sharing my wonderful stories about the Roman Empire and the nostalgic times where Italians counted in the world, supported by an exotic hand-waving coreography.
I suddenly banged my Champagne flute with my left hand: the glass was vigorously smashed on the table and all the pieces were thrown around like bullets.
Before I knew it, my BFF’s right hand was bleeding like the arm of a Roman soldier after a Barbarian war and we had to estract the “champagned” glass debris from her limb.
She was probably too nice or too drunk to realise the gravity of the situation and let the skin heal for a week, subsequently celebrating her 40th party the following saturday without predicting what would come next.
Her main concern became the fact that she couldn’t play tennis or train at the weekly gym sessions, as her hand was still sore. (It would have worse if she was an orchestra director of a masseuse, I suppose.)
It turned out that a big piece of glass was stuck inside her hand and she had to undergo a general anaesthesia operation the following week in order to remove it.
I can’t tell you if Regatta’s fish is decent. But I can tell you something: beware of the Italians. The Roman Empire has long gone, but when it comes to dinner, we are still at war.