The human tide that swamped World Showcase earlier is beginning to subside.
"You wanna finish it?" I ask, swirling the last dregs of the black and cider around the pint glass.
"Nah, it's okay," she says. With her head resting on my shoulder, I can feel that she's smiling, and I know that expression - she's got her eyes closed like a cat in a puddle of sunlight. Her voice is as happy and as soft as that sun on a warm carpet. "You can kill it."
"Suit yourself," I tell her, and knock back the rest of the black and cider. "Ready to go?"
"Maybe in a few minutes," she says. "It's nice right here for now."
We're doing all right on time, so we spend a little while relaxing in the pub. Frankly, it's nice not to have to hurry around. We exit about fifteen minutes later, and the crowd has thinned considerably. Lines are backed up around rides and shows, leaving the two of us more than enough space to cruise World Showcase.
"Okay," I say, "I forgot just how pretty the Italy pavillion was."
Before us is, in miniature, la piazza di San Marco - San Marco's Square, transplanted and distilled down for its placement in Florida. There are no rides, nor are there any shows - it's just a very beautiful, very romantic Venetian piazza with restaurants and shops and smiling Italians conversing rapid-fire with one another from behind the counters.
Emily squeezes my hand as she smiles up at me. "Are we gonna get un bacio?"
I know that's just the lead-in question. The follow up is, of course, going to be, will you be ordering it in Italian?
"Of course!" I respond, taking care of questions both said and implied.
The Italy pavilion store is dark and cool. It's not the dry, oppressive cold of overcranked air conditioning, but rather the cool of old stonework, like you'd find in an old Italian building that had been repurposed many times over the years. (I'm not sure how Disney managed this illusion, but it's a good one.)
"Hello welcome to ee-taly," says the girl behind the counter, all one word, no punctuation.
"Buonasera!" I say, unable to keep the grin off my face.
"Buonasera!" she says. "Parli italiano?" she asks - do you speak Italian?
"Solo un po'." Just a little, I reply. Emily is absolutely soaking this up. "Ho studiato un po' in Perugia." I studied a little in Perugia.
"Ah, Perugia," the girl replies. "Ti piace il ciocolatto Perugina?" She asks if I like Perugina chocolates - the company that makes Baci.
"Si, mi piace molto il ciocolatto Perugina. Un Bacio, per favore!" Yes, I say, I like it a lot - and I would like two of them. My Italian, while rusty, is holding up well enough. The girl - Carla, says her nametag, from Firenze - laughs and rings up a Baci chocolate kiss. Emily takes it with a "Grazie!" while Carla smiles and replies "Prego!"
"That was so cool!" Em says, bouncing beside me. "I like it when you speak Italian."
"But I'm rusty," I say, and add with a grin, "I bet Carla was just humoring me."
"James Alfred Cotton the Third, you speak great Italian and you are the most wonderful boyfriend in the world. Now c'mere and let's share this Baci."
Standing in the middle of the San Marco square, Em and I unwrap our Bacio. It's a much different sort of confection from the chocolate kisses we have here in the States. It's larger and softer, with a hazelnut sitting just under the chocolate skin on top. Best of all, inside the silver wrapping is a little wax-paper fortune or saying.
"Ask a toad what beauty is," it says, "and he will answer you that it is his wife."
Em and I laugh. "So we're toads then?"
"There are worse things to be," she grins, and bites into the candy. I take the other half and pop it into my mouth. The chocolate is softer and meltier but it encases a sort of whipped hazelnut-Nutella-chocolate nougat. It's gorgeously delicious.
"Oh man," Em says around a mouthful of chocolate. "That was fantastic."
"Mmph," I reply, still chewing on mine. "Not a bad stop on our adventure," I say, and pull out the next envelope.
#4
This whole thing certainly does parallel a particular favorite book of yours, doesn't it?
There will, however, be no night train to Paris. Why would you need one when you can simply walk?
I want you to go see the 12:30 showing of Serveur Amusant in France. Until then, you are free to explore France and the surrounding countryside. You must stay in Europe, however, or perhaps go view the wonders of the ocean in the aquarium. You know your humble travelling companion very well - humor me kindly!
Unlike in the book, there are no cemeteries, but there are little outdoor cafes, and there is wine! I think you will find something to take home to your family.
Following Serveur Amusant, you are free to explore Europe and Future World at your leisure, but you must be in place at 2:30 in Le Cellier for lunch.
See you there!
- The One Who Moves
"Off to France, then!" I say, and give Em a kiss on the nose. "Ready?"
"Sure!" she says. "Next stop France!"
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