Magic School Bus

Gitti, mother goose and teacher of Italiano 301, took her ducklings to Monti for a field trip today. And what a trip it was. 3 o'clock: we were packed like sardines into the 64, clutching our belongings and laughing as the bus swerved through Piazza Venezia. Once we arrived a Monti , we visited a butcher shop (the owner's family had lived in the same house since 1700), a barber (he was perfectly old-school with red bow-tie and scissor in hand), and an organic market called Mia Market where we sampled cheese with honey, and vino sfuso (wine from a canister). We went to Misty Beethoven, a sex shop, replete with crystal penises, rubber dresses, and panties which were surprisingly modest. (Note: this is not for the faint of heart. A sex shop with a teacher is so embarrassing and when she wanted me to engage the store clerk, I almost ran for the door). Speaking of running, on the way out of a renowned music school for jazz, Gitti was run over. Her foot was anyway. There we were, on Via Zingari (known for its prostitution) when a smart car rolled over her tiny foot. She swore and gestured to the driver but was immediately soothed when a group of young men came to her aid. At this point, we were all exhausted and pleaded to wrap up the magic school bus tour. She complied. "Ci vediamo dopo!" she said, waving her yoga-toned arm. "Si," we said, heading down the cobbled street.