Who wants to buy a piece of fruit?

by Cathy Nolte 
After settling into my apartment in Cagli I ventured out to the local grocery store to stock my shelves. Grocery shopping is a fairly independent task. In my new surroundings, I had no difficulty filling my basket with fruit, cheese and bread. Carrying my load to the check out counter my heart started racing as I realized I was about to encounter a person who only spoke Italian. I knew only three words of Italian and every one of them immediately hid somewhere in the far recess of my brain. I smiled and watched as she scanned the groceries for purchase. Then, my fears were realized as she held up a piece of fruit and started quickly talking to me. She was clearly asking me a question but I had no idea what. She asked the question again and again. Surprise, I was still no closer to understanding. While she was shaking the piece of fruit at me, I broke out into a cold sweat. There was one thing that was clear to both of us, neither one of us knew what the other person was saying. Then something remarkable happened. The grocery clerk walked out from behind her counter and took my piece of fruit back to the produce department. She placed it on a scale near the fruit display, pushed some buttons, and printed out the price tag. I was humbled and embarrassed all at the same time. Returning to the cash register, she smiled at me warmly. She wrote the amount I owed her down on paper so I could see the numbers and not feel intimidated by the words. After paying with Euros I left with a smile. My heart slowed down to a normal rate, and I knew, although stressful, communication had take place.