The Man who Lost his Wife at Caffè Al Bicerin

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I could almost trace the place it was when Alexandre Dumas (the father), Nietzsche and Giacomo Puccini sipped a Bicerin there. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to walk in looking like another Chinese tourist unable to speak Italian and just shout out “Bicerin” (a coffee, cream, chocolate drink invented in this cafe and something you’re told you must drink before leaving Turin) but I did and I felt sorry for the historical cafe for doing it.

Who knew that red velvet bench seats, marble tables, little wooden chairs, and a mirrored and wooden wall paneling would not photograph well together. A materially rich environment was suddenly made cheap by its image. I had the whole place to myself for a good 15 minutes just sipping on a Bicerin, perfect conditions for some iPhone photography. I tried again and again but nothing, not even a cropped, Instagram filter could make it look interesting. The shadow was too illusive. (the photographs you see below required a second visit from another trip except for the first image)

As I sat there, I watched the other tourists stumbling in and one was a real Chinese tourist, a man with his family, a wife and a child I never got to see. He did something similar to me. He said the word “Bicerin” and then held up three fingers and then pointed outside. However a few moments later, he realized that the real experience of the cafe was inside and so he sat down and waited for his drink. His wife never joined him. I imagined it went something like this. She having never seen the inside wanted to stay out in the good weather or simply didn’t care for historical experiences and he felt differently.

Once his drink arrived, he slowly sipped his Bicerin while looking at his phone and I did the same. For awhile, it was just the two of us and a local Italian lady defiantly ignoring us as she read the newspaper, had an espresso and chatted with the proprietress.

Then a waitress went to the Chinese man and said that his wife had already paid for his drink. He didn’t seem alarmed by this in the beginning but then once he got up and found his wife was no longer there, the speed of his movements changed.

I also left around the same time and saw him later across the street, looking erratically around him, frantically texting, and speed walking to a place he didn’t know.

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3 thoughts on “The Man who Lost his Wife at Caffè Al Bicerin

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