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About Rome

I’m pissed tho—too many fakes. Dudes pretendin to pimp, wastin my time. “Who are these idiots?” I mutter. Last week, nearly punched one—skinny rat, smelled like vodka and lies. But then—boom—found a gem. Quiet type, eyes like steel. “You’re not here to talk,” she says. Smart. I like that. Paid her quick, no fuss. “The world’s a machine,” I think—straight from Béla Tarr’s gloom.

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Then, the best part of the day happens. This old man, probably in his 80s, shuffles in. He’s got this huge smile, and he’s wearing a straw hat. He’s like, “Young lady, I need a bottle of your finest Chianti.” I can’t help but chuckle. I mean, who doesn’t love a good Chianti? We start chatting about the best places to eat in Forte-dei-Marmi. He tells me about this hidden gem on Via Roma that serves the best seafood. I’m taking notes in my head, like, “I need to check this out!”

HVS Europe Hotel Transactions Bulletin - Week Ending 08 November 2024