I shall start my life from the chapter of meeting my Italian late husband, Pietro.
Once upon a time there was an Indonesian woman coming to be at her business appointment one early Monday morning around 9 am which is out of the norm for her to come all the way to this five-star Hotel in the capital city of Indonesia, Jakarta.
On entering the lobby at the ground floor, she had to get on an escalator to take her to the lobby where the lounge, front-desk, money-changer, coffee shop, shops, drug store, patisserie where the appointment was to be held there at the lounge.
Not seeing the designated person, could that she was too early, she wasn’t looking at her watch as then it was a pre-smartphone era, she wondered across the temporary made up lobby in front of the travel agent and the coffee shop, since there were works being done to revamp the lobby itself where the lounge was.
For a glimpse as she was on the escalator reaching this mezzanine floor, she saw a very dapper looking Brazilian that could be a banker, so she thought, at a counter which apparently was the money-esxchanger where she got to know only after. But that was all, as it was just a passing glimpse since her eyes were directed to that part of the lobby from the escalator.
All of a sudden, there’s this voice that says: “Hello…” which direction was from right behind her and she turned! It was that dapper looking Brazilian banker she has so confidently assumed saying hello to her that followed with , “my name is Peter.”
Finding strange with such a name on such a Latin look, she was reserved while saying hello back. His English then was very halted but she could understand and being a business woman of export-import and interior decorating, on shoving her his business card, his name was a rather uncommon thick Italian name for us outside Italy to read and even hear… that I couldn’t read but with a title Egr in front of his name, her common sense tells her it’s an abbreviation of Engineer.
With a big friendly smile, he asked if he could invite her for dinner as he just arrived the night before and was just changing the dollars since he came straight from Minneapolis, USA. Asked for her contact number and honest to God, all she could only think was he would be good for my business given that he came for the Indonesian Electric Central Company. They said goodbye as he was waited by an Indonesian man to usher him to their car heading to their work place of this project.
The day after, she was in her office, her secretary picked up and passed on the phone to her. She could hear his broken English and still introduced himself as Peter which did not help with her memory of meeting an Italian man previous day. He struggled with his English language to say he would like to invite her for dinner. He asked where she lives and will ask taxi to take him to pick her up. Her residence was in the South of Jakarta, his Hotel was in the North and albeit no traffic jams as how currently it is today which is impossible. Whe offered to come herself to the Hotel as she had her driver still to take her in her car to meet him at the Hotel’s lobby instead.
And so, the rest is history.
That girl, was me, Meta.
I have to add that it took him two weeks to court me in that very old-fashioned way of courtship where he asked for a date every night for dinner and on second day, he came himself in a taxi to pick me up all the way at my resident. I can’t imagine how he must have felt passing those foreign roads where towards my place the lights were more dim then.
Two weeks after dating, with ever so politely he asked if he could embrace me… but in that nonchalant but matter-of-factly manner and that was the language he used as to refer for more intimate relationship which I found rather corny but sweet at the same time; what a breath of fresh air, what a gentleman and what a respect.
And so began my journey of becoming an Italian man from Milan’s wife two years later and here I am today.
Sadly, he left suddenly on March 21, 2014, when I was in Jakarta, Indonesia, and he was here in Milan, just returned one and a half months from staying with me in Jakarta in the villa he purchased for our old age,
The consolation I could take from this finality with him although the pain of losing him is unbearable was that he came to spend with me in that villa at least for two and a half months.
And now, almost four years will be passed in March 2018, yet, that part of my heart can never be replaced ever again. It’s missing one love and affection that it used to bask in.
I still consider it, nevertheless, as a blessing that he could taste the fruit of his labour for even just a little rather than nothing at all.
This blog is my commemoration of my life with him out of living in Milan, Italy, surrounded by his culture, life style and mentality which I’m looking forward to share. Some are wonderful and beautiful, some are surprising and could raise eyebrows but will all be described out of my love for him and our life spent together.