Man, what a day! I swear, if I had a euro for every wild thing that happened in Casavatore today, I’d be rich. Like, I could buy a pizza from that spot on Via Roma and still have change for a gelato.
So, I roll outta bed, right? It’s like 7 AM, and I’m already late for my first meeting. Typical broker life, ya know? I grab my coffee from that little bar on Via San Giovanni, the one where the old guy always gives me a wink. He knows I’m a regular. I’m chugging that bitter goodness, and boom! My phone buzzes. It’s my client, Marco. He’s freaking out about some property on Via Nazionale. Apparently, someone else is eyeing it too. Great. Just what I need.
I rush over to the place. It’s a nice spot, but the traffic on Corso Umberto is a nightmare. I’m stuck behind this old Fiat that’s going like 10 km/h. I’m yelling at the guy, “C’mon, man! We’re not in a Sunday stroll!” But he’s just chillin’, probably listening to some old-school Neapolitan tunes. I finally get there, and Marco’s already pacing like a caged lion.
“Dude, chill!” I say. “We’ll get it.” But inside, I’m like, “What if we don’t?” The pressure is on. We go inside, and it’s beautiful. I mean, the view from the balcony? Stunning! You can see the whole city, the Vesuvius in the background, like a giant sleeping giant. But then, I notice the price. It’s way too high. I’m thinking, “Who do they think we are? The Medici?”
So, I start negotiating. I’m throwing out numbers like confetti. “How about this? How about that?” But the seller’s not budging. I’m getting frustrated. I mean, c’mon! It’s Casavatore, not Milan! We’re not made of money here!
Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes again. It’s my buddy, Luca. He’s at the pizzeria on Via Roma, and he’s like, “Dude, you gotta come! They’ve got this new pizza with truffle oil!” I’m torn. Pizza or property? But I can’t leave Marco hanging. So, I tell Luca, “Later, man! I’m in broker mode!”
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, we settle on a price. I’m pumped! I mean, I just saved Marco a ton of cash. We shake hands, and I’m feeling like a champ. But then, I step outside, and it starts pouring. Like, seriously? I’m soaked in seconds. I’m laughing, though. Just my luck, right?
I duck into a café on Via San Giovanni to dry off. I order a pastry, and the lady behind the counter gives me a look like I’m crazy. “You’re eating that in this weather?” she says. I’m like, “Lady, I need my sugar fix!”
After I dry off a bit, I head back out. The streets are slick, and I’m dodging puddles like I’m in some kind of obstacle course. I pass by the market on Via Roma, and the smell of fresh produce hits me. I can’t resist. I grab some tomatoes and mozzarella. Gotta make a caprese salad later, right?
Then, I get a call from my boss. He’s like, “We need to talk about your sales this month.” I’m thinking, “Oh great, here we go.” But I’m feeling good after the deal with Marco, so I’m like, “Bring it on!”
I finally get home, and I’m exhausted. I flop on the couch, and I can’t help but laugh. What a day! Casavatore, man. It’s chaotic, it’s beautiful, and it’s home. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Well, maybe for a slice of that truffle pizza… but that’s a different story!