Ain't got Sardinia all to myself.

When meandering down a cobblestone street in Nuoru in the north of Sardinia, I overheard several women gabbing. In English. So I casually asked in broken English whether they were Americanos. I tried to fake an Italian accent. Not too well. They suspected from the outset that I was a screwy American. Just like them. They wanted to know where I came from. I confessed. Minnesota. They were Californians. Anyway, we engaged in conversation for a few minutes. Felt like old times. For me. Chatting in English. With someone other than my bilingual Italian true love. First time in a month that I had spotted an American. Guess I ain't got Sardinia all to myself. --Jim Broede