Antonny and the Blue Bar

I know I’ve written about the Blue Bar and its owner before, but this is a bit different. Besides which I have also discovered that he spells his name Antonny.

For someone who has never frequented coffee bars (or any other type of bar), just to hang out and wile away the time, my relationship with Blue Bar is quite unusual, at least for me. It’s right around the corner from where I live and is quite small as bars go. On summer and sunny days people prefer to sit at the tables outside and I and my dog can watch passersby and other dogs go by. It has become a place where I encounter newcomers – if I like – , where I can leave a copy of my book on Orvieto for them to peruse, where I can meet an occasional acquaintance for a morning cup of coffee, or even for a five or six o clock aperitivo, where an elderly lady recognizes me as having owned a shop near the cathedral where, perhaps 50 years ago, she would go as a child to buy small presents at Christmas. I’m always rather surprised when people know who I am, or rather who I was. For me and for many others though, Blue Bar is primarily Antonny, the barista.

The Blue Bar is the people one meets. Or should I say knows, for many are old acquaintances with whom one exchanges greetings. Mid-morning the laborers who are renovating the hotel up the street come in for that quick expresso, their blue jeans spotted with white plaster or paint. Later in the morning there’s the lawyer with his colleague and wife, another lawyer, whose mother used to help me with my children – when they were small. A sweet-faced young man who may or may not live across the way stops in and always smiles and pets my dog. I’m not sure whether he lives in the world we live in or not. An American couple who have an apartment near here come in for their cappuccino and brioche. They’ll come by this afternoon for a bright orange spritz served with pistachios and potato chips. Sometimes I think people come just so they have someone to talk to. And Antonny’s subjects can range from soccer to what’s going on in Rome, as he puts a cornetto or brioche, empty, or filled with chocolate custard or jam, on a small plate. Have a good day, my friend, the barista says patting his customers on a shoulder or with a hug or a kiss on each cheek as they leave. They all seem to be his friends or at least he makes them feel they are. 

Yes, I consider this highly intelligent and sociable young man who is set on learning English my friend as well. I’ll come and in between making an espresso or a cappuccino we will read something in English, while I correct his pronunciation (since he grew up in France he often forgets to pronounce the final “s”), his timing and pauses, explain a few words that are new to him. Most recently “loo”. Yes that is normally used. And “buttocks”. No problem here for he is French so when I tell him it is the equivalent of derriere he understands immediately. Can “peacock” be used in polite society? He’s never heard of the word regarding a bird but evidently is acquainted with the slang meaning of the second syllable. He also likes to adopt idioms such as “no pun intended” which he will then use as soon as he gets the chance. Sometimes though he is in a more philosophical mood and instead of reading we talk. How he tries to get his young son to read real books. And he understands what is meant by not simply copying something but understanding it and doing your own version. He may get out his guitar and play or sing a Beatles song, first as they did, but then he will invent his own approach. Today I brought my copy of The Cat in the Hat, thinking he might use it with his children.  He was intrigued by the rhythm, repetition, simplicity of the words and would like to turn it into a song.

I am struck by his analysis of learning a word – first one encounters a new unknown word, then one learns what it means and how to pronounce it, and finally one actually uses it.

This is the Blue Bar, this is Antonny, a barista, a musician, a father, a cognisant human being, and a friend.