AN INNOCENT IN ITALY

Living--ah yes, I remember it well. Back then, when this critic was stress-free, I was off on my first European voyage--to tape for radio a series of on-site interviews with the great two and three star restaurant chefs of France for broadcast in the Unit ed States. Seeing this as a marvelous opportunity to enrich my limited knowledge of travel, I decided to take a few days in Rome before departing for Paris. Me who never walks across the street to a restaurant without a reservation, was so naive about con tinental jaunts, I just assumed, since it was October, the European high season was over and hotels would be waiting for me with spread open arms.

Getting into a cab at the Roman airport, I asked the driver to select a good hostelry for me. "No reservation?" he muttered. I said "no"--he shrugged. It was downhill from there. We toddled from one hotel to another. Doormen would open the cab door ask i f I had reservations, heard no for an answer, slammed the door in my face and waved us on. Finally I found a small hotel called Nunzio willing to put me up for just one night. When I asked the cabby how much I owed him, he dropped a figure with all kinds of zeros in it. I computed in dollars, he of course, was talking lira. For a while, I had a sinking feeling that I was being conned and was possibly wiped out financially for all time to come. Eventually I caught on and we resolved the misunderstanding, a nd eventually I sorted out my accommodation problem with the help of Travelers Aid, who found a room for me at the deluxe Hassler.

Are you with me so far? Good. Let's go. The next morning, still suffering from angst, I checked out of the Nunzio. I told the english speaking doorman to inform the Italian speaking taxi driver that I was going to the Hassler. The bags were loaded and we took off. On the way I realized that I had left my passport with the desk clerk at the Nunzio. " Good grief! How will I get the driver to turn around?", I thought. I decided to knock on the glass separating us and authoritatively said, "Nunzio Hotel, ple ase". The driver looked back, smiled and answered reassuringly--"no, no--Hassler". I repeated the request a couple of more time and go the same feedback. Now I was getting nervous, and started jumping up and down in the back seat, repeating over and over- -"no, no! Nunzio, Nunzio, Nunzio!". At last he looked back, stared at me for a moment and asked, "Nunzio?" I said, "Si, Si, Nunzio, Nunzio". He shrugged (the Italians are good at that) and turned the cab around in the direction of the Nunzio.

In a dither I ran in to retrieve my passport and returned to the cab, boarded again and happily said "Hassler". The driver repeated, "Hassler", I said, "si," and off we went. A few miles down the road, it occurred to me that I had forgotten to empty out my safe deposit box at the Nunzio. Now how do I deal with this? I gently knocked on the dividing glass and sheepishly said, "Nunzio Hotel please". He turned and looked at me pitiably, and reassuringly said, "no, no, no, Hassler". I jumped up and down in the back seat again, screaming, "No, no, no, no. Nunzio, Nunzio, Nunzio, Nunzio!!!". He replied, "no, no, no, no, no! Hassler, Hassler, Hassler". As an afterthought, he glanced back again, staring at me, and then asked "Nunzio?". "Si, Si, Nunzio, Nunzio," I replied, completely spent. He gave a now familiar shrug, and turned the cab around in the reverse direction.

Are you still with me. Good. Let's go. I retrieved my money from the safe deposit box at the Nunzio, and then boarded the taxi one more time. Both the doorman and I firmly told the driver to take me to the Hassler Hotel. And away we went. The weather was warm and lovely, not at all like New York, which was having a cold fall. Suddenly I realized that because it was so warm, I had neglected to grab my topcoat, which was still hopefully hanging in my Nunzio Hotel room. Faced with this latest dilemma--I bec ame paralyzed. How in the world can I get the driver to turn around again? No quick fix came to mind. In desperation, I ever so gently knocked on the dividing glass to get the his attention. He promptly turned, smiled broadly and said "Nunzio, Si?". I qui etly replied "Si, Nunzio".