Alfredo

Across the way lives Alfredo. He’s often outside, wearing a work hat made of folded newspaper, and making repairs to the building. Each time we pass through the courtyard, he waves excitedly, and makes pleasant small talk with us. Even though we can barely follow what he’s saying in Italian, it's not a deterrent for him.

Alfredo, his wife, and their only-child Franca invite our entire household, seven Iranians and American me, into their home. Also present are our Scottish neighbor, C, plus Franca's Saudi boyfriend and his Arab buddy. Alfredo is eager for all of us - Middle Easterners, Europeans, and North American - to sample his homemade champagne, and to toast to Franca’s eighteenth birthday.

Each time Alfredo sees one of our glasses even halfway empty, he jumps up, smiles broadly, and fills it to the brim. If we finish a cookie, his wife heaps two more onto our plates. And when the champagne is gone, it's not a problem. Alfredo opens a bottle of grappa (distilled brandy), and begins to pour.