The Squirrel - Una Bella

The sacred Soviet empire lived out its last years when the Italian company Danielli started to build in our city a grandiose object - the plant, which was to produce pipes for the Urengoi- Pomary-Uzhgorod gas  main. Thank to it we had a lot of dark-haired Italian workers. The unprecedented fact was recorded in “The annals” of a quiet town: the landing of Moscow priestesses of paid love. Ladies noisy settled in the central hotel that is opposite the complex administrative authority of city and regional levels - the Pentagon by people’s name. The business did not go well and after a few run-ins with the local “beauties”, they were out of town. Finally, they commented that locals do not value themselves if they are ready to sleep for a bottle of imported shampoo. Nuance: locals slept because of love and, because of curiosity as well.

One Saturday I went with my friends to a disco. Short skirt, white guipure blouse, black tights and ponytail on my head. Sseveral young Italians leaked during the "fast" dance in our girlish circle. One of them, a tall, handsome guy began to move toward me gradually, scrubbing my friends, and finally turned nearby. When "the ballad" sounded, he picked me up without any word and whirled in the dance. After that he did not make any step from me. Fast dancing – next to me, slow music - again I'm in his arms. During some slow dance he shakes me tighter, and I feel how a "gun" in his pants rests on my belly. Mamma mia! The Italian leaned toward my ear and began to mumble some Italian "folly" from which I only grabbed oft-repeated word "unabela". My knowledge of Italian at the time was limited to a few words of Italian pop-music (Puppo, Ricardo Foli, Matia Bazzar). Intuitively, I felt that it was about my girl's honor! The ear flamed with indignation.

Well, I ran away. As soon as the dance ended, I did not tell anything to my friends and rushed from the dance room in a mirrored hall on the first floor and ran out to the street.

Not turning back scared to see the possible chase of immoral Italian, I jumped into a taxi parked nearby and sped off in the direction of home.
At home, when I calmed down, I called my friend who openly twisted romance with Italian engineer (she married him successfully later):
- Rita, what meaning of Italian word "unabela"?

- The beauty - the future translator of company Danielli answered me.

- Are you kidding? - I was taken aback.

- No, “una bella” means “the beauty” and a random “bella” is “beautiful”.

My friends laughed long at that story and left me the nick name: a squirell*. Well, why not? A cute economic and fun animal - personally me, I'm happy with it!

*In Russian a squirrel is belka. It sounds pretty the same as Italian bella.