Smokers continue to astound me, I guess I should be used to it by now. I walked past an outside table on my way into the café for lunch and the girl with her back to me flicked her cigarette butt casually back and onto my shoe, ignoring the ashtray on the table in front of her.
I sat by the window in Café Cinque Lire, trying for a spot out of the draft and in the sun, the only drawback to the place being how open it is — great in the summertime, not so good in the winter! Less than a metre away on the other side of the glass was the table of six, the girl and five guys, all smoking… Every single one of them ashed their cigarettes by flicking it on the ground, every single one of them ignored the ashtray, and one by one, every single one of them flicked the butts under the table or ground them out with their shoes. Bizarre.
On the other hand, the rigatoni, the wine, the baklava and the coffee were all as wonderful as always. Lunch how it should be, if only I can remember to wear warm clothes when visiting!