“Molto Obrigado”
A single phrase heard at the Rio Olympics closing ceremony triggers a vivid memory from Lake Albano near Rome.
An essay on language, embodied memory, and the warmth of cross-cultural experience.
2016-08-22
“Molto obrigado.”
“Molto obrigado.”
I was watching the closing ceremony of the Rio Olympics.
The first words spoken by President Thomas Bach when he took the stage at the end were these.
“Ah, I see, now I understand the meaning of the words that a woman standing among the people around the pond said to me, when I barely made it back to shore after swimming for my life in Lake Albano at Castel Gandolfo near Rome, during my visit to pay respects to the Pope.”
Because I thought I was being scolded for swimming, even now I still do not understand why I was told thank you.
At the time, I was one of Osaka’s well-known heavy drinkers, and while opening several bottles of fine wine with Roman aristocrats whom I already knew well, at the mansion of a close friend and classmate for whom I had prepared an enormous sum of money in Italy, the topic turned to swimming, and the reckless idea arose that we should go for a swim.
In my life, that was the first and last time I ever swam after drinking heavily, the first and last time I ever drank and swam.
To ensure that nothing could possibly go wrong, I swam with the utmost caution.
It was also my first time swimming while brushing against the algae living in the lake.
Since junior high school, I had been told that I had a beautiful swimming style.
As we talked about such things, the decision was made to go swimming, and we drove to Lake Albano and swam.
It was when I finished early and came back up onto the shore.
Lake Albano is a lake with a very beautiful landscape, also famous for the story that Stendhal sank the initials of his lover to the bottom of the lake.
The Italian restaurant by the lakeside serves pizza with a thin, delicious crust, and many people even drive all the way from Rome to eat there, a family-run restaurant that is truly excellent.
On the way out, at the register, I, who had once been one of Kitashinchi’s leading singers, sang “Strangers in the Night” by Italy-born superstar Frank Sinatra, and was rewarded with thunderous applause from the owners.
