Member Blog of the Week - Barefoot Run: Milano, Italy, and the next "Godfather" By Barefoot Jake

Discussion in 'Front Page News' started by pbarker, Oct 26, 2010.

  1. pbarker

    pbarker
    Expand Collapse
    Barefooters
    1. Canada

    Joined:
    Sep 19, 2010
    Messages:
    528
    Likes Received:
    23
    [​IMG]
    Member Blog of the WeekBarefoot Run:Milano, Italy, and the next "Godfather"By Barefoot JakeSo a little while back, I was in Milano, Italy on a two-day business trip. I had just started running barefoot and was a little apprehensive about it, especially in Italy. You see, while Italy is one of the most beautiful places in the world, it's definitely not the cleanest. I've run around or over everything from dead dogs to needles, condoms, and glass. You name it. And the roads are heavily damaged from the summer heat, and maintenance is limited.But on this trip, I ran into a fascinating character. I was barefoot and running through the suburb of San Vittore Olona. Passing one of those quaint little bar/restaurant/pizzerias you see everywhere, the door to the bar opened and out stepped a young man in his early thirties wearing a t-shirt and soiled jeans. Unfortunately, I got a good look at him only because, due to the tight sidewalk right in front of the bar and the fact that he was weaving a bit, I clipped him with my shoulder and he hit the pavement hard.Oh crap! Flash forward to an image of me getting my butt kicked and spending the night in a Milano jail. Luckily, that didn't happen. As the adrenilin and urge to flee came rushing to my head, the guy actually started laughing. Standing over him like an idiot, I simply said, "Hey, I'm really sorry." A curious look came over his face as he hauled himself off the sidewalk, rubbing his elbow. "You English or American?" "I'm American." "Where your shoes?" he asked. I tried to explain the barefoot running thing, but I'm not sure he believed me.Next thing you know, he's inviting me into the bar for a drink. I explained I really needed to finish my run and then meet someone for dinner, but thanks anyway. He immediately opened the door to the bar, yelled something to the bartender in Italian, and then said to me, "Have good restaurant for you." At this point, I was thinking, oh great, what kind of cockroach-infested restaurant is he going to send me to. I politely explained that I would have a business partner joining me for dinner, and we'd be dressed in suits and ties. No problem, he explained. He told me the name of the restaurant, and said, "My name Enrico. You say them."An hour later, I was in a taxi with one of my American business partners. Up for adventure, we'd given the recommended restaurant name to the driver. He dropped us on a dark side street and pointed to a door. There was light inside, and the name of the restaurant was tiled over the door, so we paid the taxi and went inside.We were standing in a nice restaurant. Candles and white linens on the tables, a couple waiters rushing around in black jackets and ties, and nice music. A well-dressed man approached us and asked, "Due? (Two?)" I answered, "Yes. Enrico sent us." The man's eyes opened wide, he said a bunch of stuff in Italian to one of the waiters who quickly scurried away, and he ushered us to a nice table in the corner.Sitting down, the waiter arrived with a bottle of champagne. We signaled that we hadn't ordered anything yet, but he simply explained, "Enrico." This was definitely going to be interesting. For the next hour, the waiter brought us fantastic, traditional Italian appetizers, courses of fish and perfectly cooked meats, washed down with a very nice bottle of wine. We never once ordered a thing, and the waiter never spoke to us other than to ask, "Good?"Nearing the end of our meal, none other than running-accident-victim Enrico stepped through the door. He had cleaned himself up a bit, meaning he'd pulled on an unbuttoned Oxford over his t-shirt. The well-dressed man who had seated us rushed over and said "Enrico..." followed by a bunch of Italian. Heads turned. At least half of the restaurant stood up. For the next ten minutes, working the room, Enrico shook every hand and kissed most of the men and women on both cheeks.He finally arrived at our table and shook our hands. "You eat good?" he asked. We said "Yes," and "Thank you for the recommendation." He pointed to my feet, said something in Italian to everyone seated nearby, and the place erupted in laughter. We asked him if he would join us and could we buy him a drink. He declined.The waiter had brought an extra chair for Enrico to a table near us where several nicely dressed couples had been seated since we'd arrived. Enrico put an arm around an older woman at the head of that table and walked her over to ours. "This mayor Milano," Enrico said. We shook the woman's perfectly manicured hand, and she welcomed us to Milano in passable English. Now we had no idea if she was really the mayor of Milano, but searching the internet later, it sure as heck looked like Letizia Moratti, current mayor.Time to go, and we tried to pay, but, of course, the waiter signalled that Enrico was paying. We discreetly pointed at Enrico and asked the waiter, "Who is he?" The waiter immediately understood and simply said, "Enrico father...big man."Was Enrico the son of a Godfather? We may never know. But if someday soon you read that Barefootjake was recently found "sleeping with the fishes", you'll know for sure.*Posted here and at www.runbarefooteurope.blogspot.com*
     
  2. barefootjake

    barefootjake
    Expand Collapse
    Barefooters
    1. Kansas
    2. International
    3. Presidents

    Joined:
    Oct 11, 2010
    Messages:
    71
    Likes Received:
    0
    PB - I hadn't read that Gena ran the last part of the Rome marathon barefoot. Just googled it. That's pretty cool! Nice tribute to Bikila.
     
    Collapse Signature Expand Signature

Share This Page