One fine evening in mid-April, I got back to the flat and was told we had a new flatmate. He had stayed at the flat before because he always works the summer season, dancing at the Arena. After this brief introduction and perfectly on cue, he enters with striding steps and a sweeping bow… “Mi presento, io sono Messssimooooo”. I shook his hand with a great big fixed smile, wondering what to make of the man who had just bounded into the living room. We asked him if he had photos of his dancing, to which he replied that sadly he didn’t, but would we like to see a mini video. The video begins with him standing at a bar in a dance studio, he pirouettes, and the video ends. Cue nervous laughter and much bravo bravo-ing. When he first arrived, to be honest, we didn’t get on very well. I was really happy in the flat, getting to know the other boys I lived with, so much so that the flat didn’t seem like a random group of people but a little home from home for a while. The arrival of an all-singing, all-dancing, Pro-Evo expert from Naples rocked the boat somewhat, turning the house into a perfect bachelor pad. I went from being the little sister about the place, and was quite enjoying being looked after, to a nagging mother/wife clearing up ash trays and seeing all my food disappearing during midnight Pro Evo sessions, including an entire packet of ham…who chooses ham on its own as a snack?!!! For a while, everything went the wrong side of random.
Thankfully, all’s changed for the better now. He went back to Naples for a couple of weeks and came back a changed man, and I’d probably changed to, accepting him rather than picking up on every idiosyncrasy. He’s gone from being the one that eats all the food, to the ones that buys it all, so there are always munchies around aperitivo time. It makes me giggle to go into the laundry room to see pairs of tights, leotards and a jockstrap (I kid you not) hanging up to dry. Not one to mince his words, he always answers the door with, “Who are you? How many are you? What do you want?!” Luckily I’d warned friends of this, as not surprisingly, he sounds fairly menacing from outside on the street. On seeing him though, menacing would never been an adjective that entered your head. If you are female you’re likely to be greeted with a sweeping bow before he turns to me to ask, “And who is this? She’s the most beautiful girl in all of Verona. Why have I never seen her before?” which is very flattering, if a little overwhelming. He stands at about 5”7, with really long arms and legs and a nose like Napoleon (his words, not mine). When I first met him, he told me that his form is not aesthetically pleasing but is perfect for a classical dancer. It’s not that he’s aesthetically displeasing, but off stage he does look fairly out of proportion. He’s rehearsing for Aida at the moment, which starts at the Arena in a couple of weeks, and I’m really excited about going to see it. There’s something a bit glamorous about going to see a friend dancing at the opera in Verona, and though I never thought I’d say it, I’ll miss his strange little ways when I leave.
