The Amalfi Coast

Bec and Matt head to the beach in Amalfi

It was 9:15am and, in her apparent commitment to extinguishing all trace of her wedding dress diet/general health and well-being, Bec had just finished her first gelato for the day. The following conversation then took place.

Bec: Let’s go to the beach. We’re in Amalfi, let’s go to the beach.

Matt: OK.

Bec: Let’s get some beach chairs.

Matt: OK.

Bec: There’s a man with some beach chairs for rent. Let’s rent some beach chairs from him.

Matt: I think it’s a scam.

Bec: Why do you think it’s a scam?

Matt: Because beach chairs should be free.

Bec: Why should they be free?

Matt: Because it’s a beach. Beaches should be free.

Bec: But someone has to pack up the chairs and clean them and things.

Matt: OK.

Beach Chair Man: You want chair?

Matt: Cuánto?

Beach Chair Man: Excuse me?

Matt: Cuánto?

Beach Chair Man: Do you speak English?

Matt: I’m speaking Italian.

Beach Chair Man: No, you’re speaking Spanish.

Matt: Me parlo Italiano.

Beach Chair Man: Vuoi una sedia? Sono dieci Euro.

Matt: I don’t understand.

Beach Chair Man: The chairs are ten Euro.

Matt: That’s a lot for a chair.

Bec: Darling! Just get the chairs.

Beach Chair Man: It is ten Euro for two chairs. And you can use the toilet and the showers as well.

Matt: OK

Bec: Let’s go sit over there.

Matt: OK. I’m going to go to the toilet.

Bec: Hey, so, before you go, can I see your birth certificate? You just went to the toilet in the hotel. I want to be sure I haven’t married a three-year-old.

Matt: I have to go again.

*Two minutes later*

Matt: I’m back.

Bec: What’s that wet patch on the front of your shorts?

Matt: Nothing.

Bec: Is that wee?

Matt: No.

Bec: Are you not wearing any underwear?

Matt: Look, the man is coming.

Bec: What man?

Matt: The Beach Chair Man. He’s holding a piece of paper.

Beach Chair Man: Here you go. For you.

Matt: Is this a receipt for the chairs?

Bec: It’s a fine for weeing on your shorts.


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