Appian Way - The Interpreter

Appian Way – The Interpreter

Four days on the coast of the Italian Riviera, a BMW, living in a spa overlooking a nude beach, on an expense account, and now an interpreter.  Fighting communism could not get much better than this.

The interpreter the commanding officer lent us was a Staff Sergeant who was getting ready to rotate back to the U.S.  He was going to be assigned to the 101^st Air Assault Division at Ft. Campbell, Kentucky.  His father had married an Italian and he had lived in Italy most of his life including most of his tour of duty.  His assignment to the 101^st was going to be for four years and he was not looking forward to the assignment.  He loved Italy.

He was full of questions about the states and Kentucky in particular, and for reasons that I guess were typical European, he was interested in whores.  He asked if I knew what the whore situation was like in Kentucky.  I told him I did not know and even though I had served two short tours there I never saw the reason to find out.  Other than that he seemed like any other young American soldier being sent oversees, or I guess I should say he was typical of any young man being sent away from home for the first time.  Women have always been a high priority to young men away from home.

I told my contingent that we had the sergeant’s language expertise at our disposal but they seemed unimpressed.  They had developed their own itinerary for the next few days and decided to leave me out of their plans.  I did not mind. There was a difference in rank and ages and I am sure they thought I would be a drag.  I am glad they felt that way, besides I had the car.  I did tell them that we needed to be back at the base no later than 0800 Friday and not to be late.

I asked my interpreter if he would mind taking me on a tour of the surrounding area.  He was more than happy to oblige.  He picked me up at the spa that evening and suggested we drive into Livorno.  We headed toward the Italian seaport, weaved in and out of traffic, up and down the streets of the old section of Livorno, and eventually arrived at a spaghetteria.  A spaghetteria, according to my guide, is a restaurant that serves typical types of food common to Italy but specializes in different kinds of pastas. 

The tone of any Italian meal differs from one part of the county to another and so to the differing restaurants.  First was wine, then some shelled muscles, next a pasta dish, a fish of some sort accompanied by crushed spinach, garlic, olives and bread.  Then came a fresh salad followed by fruit with a demitasse of espresso.  If that were not enough a rich thick creamy pudding followed.  Of course wines of different sorts were brought out with each course ranging from dry to sweet. 

I staggered back to the car, not from the wine but from over indulging my gastronomic side.  The sergeant thought we should now go out and look for some whores but I declined the invitation and he returned me to the spa. 

I needed to rest up for the county side tour the next day the sergeant had promised to take me on.