Today, I want to tell you a story.

Since moving to Italy, I have been trying to practice my Italian as best I can. I go to shops and speak to the cashier in Italian, I ask locals for directions to places in Italian, and the focus of this story: I go to cafes.

In the building where I live, there are six floors. I live on the fifth floor and thankfully there’s a lift that gets me up to there, but on the ground floor there is a little cafe. For my first few days of living here, I would walk past that cafe and long to go in, at the time I was much too nervous to try speak in their tongue in case I had to never show my face again. Last Tuesday though, I took the plunge.

This cafe closes at half past nine. So, figuring it would be quite empty after eight o’clock, I summoned my courage and went inside. I figured it would be more fun if I actually wrote my conversation here, I’ll put the translations too!

Ciao, buonasera! Hi, good evening!

Ciao, come stai? Hi, how are you?

Bene, grazie! Cosa ti piacerebbe? Good, thanks! What would you like?

Ah, *gesturing at the board* un minuto per favore! Ah, one minute please!

I took a minute to read over the board, a few things I recognised teas, cappucinos etc. Of course I had to order my favourite though…

Per favore posso avere una ciocolata calda? Please can I have a hot chocolate?

Certo! Trova un posto! Of course! Find a seat!

My heart was racing! I had done it, ordered myself a hot chocolate in Italian, in Italy! I took a seat by the window and got my book out to read whilst I waited. It arrived quickly though and I started to drink.

Or rather, I tried to drink. Something I didn’t realise about Italian hot chocolates is that they are quite different from how we make them in the UK, this hot chocolate before me was closer to a mousse than a drink, not that I was complaining of course as they had provided me with a spoon!

I spent the next hour in the cafe, eating my hot chocolate. It was delicious, and my book reading made the experience very enjoyable. Once I had finished though, I headed back to the till to pay my bill…

Ciao, quanto costa? Hi, how much is it?

Ah, tre euro per favore! Ah, three euros please!

I handed over a five euro note and got my change promptly, my heart was still racing at the admittingly basic conversation I was able to have.

Grazie mille, buona serata! Thank you so much, have a good evening!

E tu! Arrivederci! And you! See you soon!

I headed home, by which I mean upstairs. I knew I would be back soon.

Sure enough, two days later I returned to the cafe, and ordered the same thing. It was delicious what can I say. I took a seat in a different spot this time and they brought my drink(?) over, it was just as nice the second time and my experience was ever as delightful sitting there watching Italy out of the window.

Again, I finished up, put my dish on the counter, paid, arrivederci’d, and left.

I did the same on Saturday. This time I saw a look of familiarity on the cashiers face and I ordered the same. My book was ever as enticing, and my evening continued.

Tonight though, is where the story takes an interesting turn. Sure enough after a long day of working as a rocket scientist I was craving my hot chocolate. So around eight o’clock I walked down the five flights of stairs to the cafe and entered.

Ah, salve! Il solito? Ah, hello! The usual?

Cosa? What?

Il solito? Una ciocolata calda? The usual? A hot chocolate?

Si! Grazie! Yes! Thank you!

I went to sit down, at the same table I had the first night. I could hardly prevent my face from smiling.

You always hear tales of going to the same place so often, and ordering the same thing every time that eventually you can just get ‘The Usual’. As of yet in my life I don’t think I’d ever experienced something like that, but here it was.

My hot chocolate arrived quick as ever. Instead of reading my book this time though, I gazed out of the window. I watched as all the people walked by, as the cars sped down the road (Italian drivers do not stop), and as the sun set over Torino. Every day here, I live somewhere incredible. With my work, I do something incredible. Then, at the end I come here, and I have the usual.

Whilst I sat, a woman came in. At first she attempted to speak in Italian before stopping and asking for a sandwich from the counter in English. I almost experienced whiplash. Sure I heard English everyday, my colleages speak it, the music I listen to has it, and I call my family and friends everyday too. But there was something odd about hearing it here, in my Italian cafe.

“Excuse me?” I called out to her. She turned around slowly, probably just as shocked as I was to hear English. “I couldn’t help but overhear,” I continued, “you speak English?” Her face seemed to brighten and she came over to my table. “It is so good to hear a familiar language!” She said excitedly. “I am much too tired to speak Italian right now.”

“Please, have a seat!” I said, gesturing to the chair in front of me. “Long day?”. The woman, Mary I learned, had been travelling all day. Getting to Milan in the mid afternoon and struggling greatly to find any kind of travel to Turin since. It was a fascinating story, and by the end it felt more like we were old friends than new acquiantances. Just as she was about to leave, she offered to add me on Instagram.

“Ah, I’m afraid I don’t have that. Or any of those things for that matter!” I replied, dishearteningly. “But, if you ever wanted to chat again. I come here at the same time nearly every day.” I said with a smile, following it up quickly with…

“I’m a regular.”

I hope you enjoyed my more story like presentation of what I’ve been up to. I felt this was something that required it to be told as it happened, to the best of my ability. I hope I get to see Mary again, it’s nice to have someone else who speaks your language after all. I am definitely getting another hot chocolate too!

Until my next adventure then, ciao!

Cassie