Thursday, 3 February 2011

The South

Angela probably wouldn't be considered an expert in English is she were back in the States, but in Napoli, as they say, "The one eyed man is king." Brought up by Greek parents who ran the only diner in town, she had outgrown Chambersberg by the time she was a teen. She went through the exercises easily enough getting out of more in depth  grammar questions by turning the page or directing the question to one of the smarter students in the class. They liked her. And the wake at noon and teach til nine schedule suited her night life. She loved to hang out in the piazzas at night surrounded by the smoke of motorinis and herb. Dance bars, parties and a few altercations.

Friends had opened a new dance club. It was called, "The South." and run by four boys who were the from The South, offspring of US NATO officials. The parents were giving them something to do and they did it in style. The twenty foot bar had a twenty foot fish tank  filled with piranas. The line was out the door and the bar was incredibly popular for its music and atmosphere only to be cut short by a knock on the door. Someone didn't like their popularity. It closed overnight. No questions. No bloodshed.

There was another popular day at the Media Stale...the state school. It was official Anti-Mafia day--a day of learning and discovery....much like having an Anti-Baptist day in Chatanooga. "Tell the English teacher, she doesn't have to come in today. We've only got five students." The entire school was off - an unofficial holiday.

I never looked too closely or thought too hard about it. It was under my nose, but I couldn't smell it. I leave that to Roberto Saviano.

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