Parma Man

I wrote this for Creative Writing class. I thought it might make an interesting post. Let me know what you think.

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As I take a stroll down Via dei Priori my head is hardly turned for any man who loiters the street because I know how a true Italian woman walks. Although I have a desire for assimilating into this culture, there is only one exception to this unspoken rule and this exception has salt and pepper hair.

Forget the "ciao bellas" and wandering eyes of Italy and think of something a bit more polite, yet no less flattering. Although it may be uncommon, consider the gentleman that one might find here. There are many stereotypes applied to the men of this country and many of them are true. However, even stereotypes have exceptions. My exception lies at the delicious lunch-time stop, Parma.

In this small bustling store, there is a short, neatly put together, Italian man with salt and pepper hair. He has a blue collared shirt tucked under his white and black Parma uniform and his fashionably pressed jeans lead to his very Italian shoes. He does not know my name or exactly where I come from. All he knows is that I frequent the store he has worked in for years and that I sometimes have trouble with the door.

An obstacle in Italy for me is often, simply understanding which way the door opens. In the States, if there is a handle on the door, you would generally pull it. But no, this is all too complicated in Italy.

One late night I visited Parma for dinner; and this gentle Parma man was standing behind the counter. As I accidentally pulled against the handle, he scurried toward the glass doors and opened it for me. Such a small gesture could not have made my day more, that is, until I saw what he did after I paid for my sandwich. He opened the door, for me, again.

And still, whenever the store is not busy and Parma man can see me approaching the door, he will come and open it for me. Even after taking my money, he will lean over and pull on the handle with a very kind smile and "ciao, buongiorno." Although, I'm not sure if Parma man believes me to be completely incapable of opening doors as a whole, but such a matter is not relevant to me.

With more than one occasion for me to stroll past Parma, I often look through the window and happen to see Parma man. He catches my eye and simply winks to acknowledge my passing. Although other Italian men might have other motives, I am convinced that Parma man's intentions are purely friendly as he simply says "ciao" with respect. And it's refreshing.

Who knows if I'm not the only one to receive such attention, I'm probably not. However lame it sounds, it makes me feel special and it's this very small act that keeps me coming back for more Parma sandwiches. (Well, that and the sandwich itself.)

It is true, Italian men are charming in more than one way and it is such a pleasure to find such gentlemen. So, whenever I take a stroll down Via dei Priori, I nonchalantly search for the salt and peppered Parma man. If he is ever spotted, it usually makes my afternoon.