The Brazilian I met in Italy.

She didn’t look Italian. And sure enough, she wasn’t. Came from Brazil. To work as a desk clerk at the Hotel Sassi. In Matera. In the south of Italy.  She accompanied us to our room.  Talked Italian. But turns out, she speaks good English, too. And Portuguese. My gawd. Trilingual. I’m jealous. She’s been in Italy for eight years. Isn’t in any hurry to return to Sao Paulo, her native city. Because she’s in love. With Italy. Can’t blame her. I am, too.  She and I have the same take on Italians. They are laid back. Easy-going. Believe in living life at a slow place. Savoring the little things. She’s thinking about visiting the U.S.  Good to be curious. She is. But it’s a faster-paced life in America.  Give me Italy. Maybe even Brazil.  I like Brazilians. Especially the one that I met in Italy. –Jim Broede