I’m sending along some random photos of Torino and what not. They have no connection to this journal. Just want to give you a feel for the place.

Anyway, I go to the check out stand and say “Buona Sera,” which means “good evening.” I nail it. The nuance, the gesture, the nod. The cashier thinks I am Italian or can speak Italian well.

Me and a guy named Morten from Norway

She picks up my green apple and rattles off something in Italian so fast she sounds like a waitress from Jersey screaming at a busboy. She is actually surprised when I point to myself and say, “Americano.” She says “Ahhhhhhh,” and then talks a little slower for me.

My first thought was, “This is great!” I have mastered the Italian cadence so well Italians give me a second look when I greet them. They know I dress funny and carry myself differently but then my greeting sounds authentic so they are pleased but not sure where I am from.

Second thought: I now realize there are a dozen Italians in line behind me at the grocery store all trying to talk to me and find out what I screwed up to cause this check out line to come to a standstill.

The cashier is waving the apple at me and pointing to the produce department.

Italians are fun because when they find out you’re an American they smile and all look at each other and say “Ahhhhh Merrrrricano,” and point at me. Their children look up and smile like I’m from the moon.

I felt like a big knucklehead but they were all very gracious.

The problem was simple and I never made that mistake again. You have to weigh the produce yourself and price it before you get to the check out stand. Easy. I love this place.

Oh shoot! I was supposed to write today’s journal about Guido Gobino! Have I mentioned I’m old and forgetful? Okay. I’m in a hurry now so here goes…

Guido is the Willy Wonka of Italy. I’m not making that up. He said it. He has a unique little chocolate factory in downtown Torino. The locals look heavenward and place their hands over their hearts when they say his name.

Women bite their lower lips and stare off into space. You might as well walk away because you don’t exist anymore.

His chocolate will ruin you. I’m serious. You will never eat a regular candy bar ever again. You’ll stand at the grocery store check out line and mutter profanities under your breath as you sneer at the sad, silly mass-produced candy rack.

You’ll become a chocolate snob. You’ll order Gobino chocolate from his Web site and you’ll only share it with those in your will… and maybe not even all of them.

Two Carolina Panthers TopCats will ask you on date and you’ll say, “I’m busy with Guido tonight.” (And you’re a straight man and could care less how that sounds.)

I could go on, but I see where this is headed and I like my job so I’ll shut my yap. Just tune in tonight at 5 PM and again at 7:30 PM and I’ll take you into Guido’s house of chocolate.

But I warn you, if you order some, don’t blame me for your new addiction… how you had to sell your belongings to afford your habit.

I have a bag full of Guido Gobino’s treats. I planned on giving them as gifts when I get home. We’ll see if they last that long.

Ciao!

Mike Redding