The clerks at Saltimbocca were completely unruffled by this hungry group of non-Italian-speaking Americans suddenly swarming their shop. Pointing out how we could add mushrooms or tomatoes or eggplant to our prosciutto or salami sandwiches, they calmly assembled them for us and we stepped outside to eat in the sunshine.
On the other side of the road a long stone bench overlooked the sea. After checking for oncoming cars, we dashed across and sat down to enjoy our panini.
While we had been inside ordering, I kept hearing someone calling something out in a sing-song voice, over and over. Now that we were outside, I saw what it had been.
Two kids about eight or nine years old had a small limonata stand set up in front of the store. Homemade lemonade from Amalfi lemons for 30 cents a glass — how could you lose? I scuttled back across the road and placed an order: two cups of limonata, per favore.
The kids broke into huge smiles and went about the serious business of pouring two paper cupfuls of the tangy juice. I gave them one Euro and told the little girl, “tenga il resto” — keep the change. Lifting my camera, I asked if I could take a picture of them. They beamed and posed, then ran to report their successful business transaction to their mamma.