Saturday afternoon, Melinda and I walk around the Citadel looking for the Christmas presents. All of a sudden the smell of freshly baked biscuits distracts us and, following our noses, we end up getting lost. Strolling around, we walk past a chaikhana, an old tea house with lots of windows and mirror-works decorations on the columns. The owner notices that I am curiously looking around and invites us in. A chaikhana is not quite a woman’s place… it is where men gather to drink tea, talk politics and play domino. The invitation to enter takes us by surprise and we decide not to lose such an opportunity. We choose a table that is neither too exposed nor too visible and pretend to have a confident attitude. The owner in broken English asks us where we are from. Melinda is the first to answer and “America” doesn’t make too much of an impression on him. When it is my turn to answer the old man’s face of lights up and he exclaims: “Italians: Communists!” His reaction takes me completely off guard and I don’t know how to react. But I only need to look at the huge smile on his face to understand and confirm with a smile even bigger than his own! On our way out, he doesn’t let us pay. Standing at the door I turn around to say goodbye and, again, with an enthusiastic face a clenched fist tells me: “Italians: Communists!” and I, completely moved, answer: “Yes! Italians: Communists!”
How good is it that in this corner of the world there is someone who reminds me that in my country there is something more than just Berlusconi!