Dinner at the BP gas station

Here’s a weird one. Yesterday Patti and I were hanging out in Lugano and we ran into my new friends J (pictured here) and . in the grocery store. J said a bunch of folks were going out to dinner, did we want to come? Sure.

So we all meet at 7:30 and walk down into town to a BP gas station. A gas station. We sit down and the waitress asks us in Italian what we want to eat. We say, “Menus?” She says, “No.” Then she explains in italian that the chef will come out and talk to us in a minute… so the chef comes out and says (still all in Italian, of course), “What do want? Meat? Pasta?” We proceed to order all kinds of things — Jeff gets fish, Patti gets pork, potatoes and veggies, I get pasta with gorgonzola and whatever kind of meat he chooses, two others get huge salads with grilled chicken on top. It comes out and is gorgeous. Gorgeous and delicious… all in the gas station.

Here’s Patti and A. at the scene of the meal…

The place filled up with all the taxi drivers in town. They park their cars in the parking lot and eat and wait for dispathes. The chef just hangs out with them. It was awesome. Definitely a cultural experience.

We walked all the way across Lugano afterward, along the lake. It was gorgeous. I keep having these moments, we all do, where we say (sometimes to each other), “I can’t believe I live here.”

Off to Florence for a few days… adventure awaits.

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