★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Anna and I, deciding it was time for a splurge, went for an after dinner drink at Villa San Michele, Fiesole's exclusive five-star hotel.  It's located right above Villa Fiesole, the hotel where I lived for three months at the start of this job, and I've been dreaming of visiting it for two years now. 

The villa is located in what used to be a monastery, and the lobby is set up in what used to be a chapel, complete with an altar and apses, which now serve as functional hallways, niches for fancy decorations, and a check-in desk.  We were escorted through the dining room (every single pair of eyes turned to follow us as we passed) and out to the expansive loggia where we ordered fancy (and costly) cocktails accompanied by dried fruit and chocolate covered almonds and oranges.  The loggia provides a spectacular view over the city (no different than Villa Le Balze, though!) and is filled with romantic candlelight and bright periwinkle hydrangeas. 

It's rare to find anything resembling customer service in this country; that's sometimes part of its charm.  However, it was refreshing to be referred to in the formal, to have someone escort me around, and so on.  The waiters were cordial and exceedingly impressed by our Italian, which made me reflect on the caliber of people they must usually serve.  Granted, the social and economic level of their guests must be quite high (it costs a minimum of 1400 euro a night to hang your hat at this hotel and a burger will set you back 27 euro, or $35), but perhaps the guests' cultural sensitives are less elevated as it seemed the wait staff had never encountered an Italian-speaking American, not to mention two, before us.  Perhaps an overflow of compliments was part of what we paid for, but they were genuinely intrigued by us, and it was flattering.

The setting made for great people watching, as our main intrigue laid in figuring out what kind of people frequent such an establishment.  One young couple stood out in particular, on two occasions.  First, when asked what she wanted to drink, the bleach-blonde woman proclaimed, "I'm pregnant," as if that's an acceptable drink order.  Then, after drinks, her self-important companion asked the Italian waiter colloquially, "How should we square up the bill?"  Even to an American that sounds weird, but how can one expect an Italian to understand that phrase?  Some people are just clueless.

Despite that distracting and disturbing couple, it was an extremely relaxing evening filled with fun conversation, tasty treats as well as yummy drinks (mine had sorbet in it), and a live pianist.  We decided that while we enjoyed being pampered so, it's not something we could get used to, nor would we want to.  One misses out on so much of the real culture of a city visiting such an isolated, privileged place, so next time we'll have to find a good dive bar!