One of my most precious missions while in Roma was to find a tiny wine shop and buy Papa a bottle of wine for his birthday. The only parameters he offered were: Montepulciano or Chianti and unavailable in the United States. Thus, I diligently looked up a typical Italian phrase: “I would like a bottle of red Montepulciano that is very dry and not found in the United States. Tuscany. Please?” Upon entering the pretentious shop, I tried to speak with the woman at the counter, who promptly retrieved the owner of the boutique, who spoke impeccable English. A mere two hour time frame, I had completed my Italian Job (reference intended) and was leisurely sipping on a glass of fine Tuscan red wine in the wine bar adjacent to the store.