The French Canadian film Cafe de Flore opened in Melbourne yesterday. I’m listening to the soundtrack now as I write this, I liked it so much. I won’t give the game away but, if you believe in the idea of soul mates, you have to see this film.
I talk a lot about my passion for Italy. But talking about me doesn’t come as easy and in a sense Italy’s at the centre of that too. So here goes. What feels like a thousand years ago, I met the love of my life on my first trip to Italy. It was a whirlwind. Just a few months. Not even. But then I went home and life went on, as it must when you’re at a tender age, and I lived without him. Except I didn’t. I kept him close. A scrap of handwriting in my purse. A phone number. He was there. Over the years like so much wallpaper. And I thought of him every day. Maybe just for a moment but I thought of him. As I got on with life.
Then, one day when I probably needed it more than I ever had in my topsy-turvy life, he reappeared. Out of the blue. Over the phone. He left a voice mail at my desk. Back then I worked in a big open plan warehouse office in South Melbourne, one of those spaces architects like, and as I listened to the message it was like that rush effect thing in the movies when the camera zooms in really fast. (If you know what I mean.) And the rest as they say is history.
But I think you know already, ours isn’t going to be the love story extraordinaire of Cafe de Flore. We left our run a bit late for that. And if Italy herself – with her warmth and love and style and beauty and food and art – was all I had to look forward to when I go back that would still be more than enough. And as crazy as it gets sometimes this tightrope, this living with a foot in both camps, head in one continent heart in another, I’d do it all again tomorrow, uguale. Subito.
Not that I’ve got much choice! 😉
Instead I think it’s like they say in the film.
Some things are written in the stars.