La Serenissima

Campo Santa Margherita

It was a good night's sleep, he decided as soon as he walked into the Conservatorio Benedetto Marcello in Palazzo Pisani. It was only about a fifteen minute walk from his apartment to the square and he found himself enjoying the walk more than normal this morning. It might have been the fact that Cafe Florian's coffee was waking him up or it might have been because there were five records in his bag that would be played over and over and over again in the classroom he was taking over today. It was the same classroom that he had been in for the past two weeks. It was another home away from home.

He nodded as he passed a few of the students on his way to the room and did a full turn when the cute violinist walked by, sending her a wink that made most, if not all of his fans swoon. Austin turned back around and headed to the stairwell for the room he was starting to call his own that sat on the third floor. He downed the rest of his coffee and tossed it in the trash he passed by before waiting patiently outside his mentor's room, counting down the minutes before the clarinet class let out. He kind of had it perfectly timed.

Up at eight, coffee by nine, wander about the city for a an hour, clarinet class out at ten thirty, dive into his record by noon. Austin and Santo D'Orazio were becoming a well oiled machine as of late and Austin was thanking his lucky stars he had a guy like Santo by his side. Meeting him when he was younger in Miami, the two had struck up a friendship that had lasted all of Austin's career so far. So when he wanted to change it all, Santo was the first person he thought of to help him do it. They had three songs in the bag, well, sort of. They were written, just not recorded yet. That part, he'd have to really live in the conservatory for a week's straight and kick out the harpists who had been recording their own little album.

Austin was also lucky that Santo knew perfect English and could translate everything for him. For that, he was even more thankful for the musical prodigy, which Santo definitely was. After meeting him years ago, Austin had done his research. Santo not only taught and could play the clarinet blindfolded, but he had also conquered the piano, harp, guitar, tuba, flute, bass, trumpet, bassoon, cello, violin, saxophone, oboe and basically, any other instrument there was. Austin thought playing a trumpet in a trumpet was cool, and then there was Santo; and this was all by the age of ten. Santo had been a soloist for the Orchestra della Fenice when he was twelve, recorded his classical album at thirteen and was a chart topper at fifteen. Not to mention he was chosen for the Royal Philharmonic on multiple occasions. It was a career Austin dreamed of and only hoped he could emulate. Of course, he was older than that now, but still. Having that much talent in a pinky finger was something he'd definitely take.

Austin slipped into the room just as Santo was gathering everything and packing up. He waved to his friend and immediately lit up when he saw the record player on the top of his desk up front.

"You hit a gold mine, my friend," Santo told him, the records now spread around them on the floor in the spare classroom just across the hall that no one used. They had retreated there hours after his class let out. "He gave you more?"

"Yea. He came out with a stack of old records and I wanted to take them all, but if he couldn't carry them all, neither could I. Especially not to my apartment."

"Who else did he have?" Santo asked and Austin rattled down all the artists that he could remember...which were just about twenty artists. "If you go back, get some others. These might help you capture more of the Italian sound you wanted."

Austin nodded and planned to do just that because he did go to the cafe every night but he would love it even more if he could understand the couple who were talking to him about the music. He would love to know what Mr. Santoli thought about the musicians he was introducing Austin to, how they made him feel, what the songs meant to him and he would absolutely love to know what was in their coffee that made it so addicting. "Hey, random question. Know a place I could get an Italian to English dictionary?"