There are places that through out our lives simply attract and make us want to go back, or at least when ever we find ourselves in the city in which they are located in, almost as if a visit to that particular city would not be complete without a stop over at that special corner. In what has been my life up and till this point there have been several such locales through out the world which I would gladly go back to; one of them being the “La Media Naranja” in Lima, Peru. Of course there have been other places which I could add to this list I have already started with “La Media Naranja” (“The Half Orange” when translated in to English) such as “San Lorenzo” in Warsaw, a particular bar (the name of which I never remember, not far from my sister’s Parioli apartment) in Rome, Bar Bonni in Madrid, an Italian pizzeria in Brooklyn owned by a fellow Italian American and many others were I spent many an hour and dollar on a drink or more. With regards to “The Media Naranja”, or “The Half Orange” however this is a place which gets its name from a Spanish expression which I was told means that when a person, be it man or woman; is looking for his or her amorous partner, he or she is looking for his or her half orange. The saying being “I hope you find your half orange”, which is actually, though probably as a mere coincidence also repeated in Polish, with identical intensions. Regarding however the place called the Half Orange, it is located in the part of Lima known as Miraflores and incidentally not far from where terrorists exploded a car bomb back in 92, which this place was spared from any damaging effects. As for the owner or in this case owners; they are a man from Brazil and his Peruvian wife, (whose names I forget) who managed to open this small but charming place, which comes decorated in a way that truly reflects the relaxed Brazilian mood. From Brazil, one would definitely have to say is the mood of this place as it includes a drink called “pinga” which me a nondrinker at the time did not try but remember because of this word’s meaning in Spanish which is not as innocent as the one in Portuguese. I even remember on one occasion, a guy asking the Brazilian owner what a pinga was. This only to be asked if he did not know, which caused faces to turn red as this word really is a Spanish street slang for the male sexual organ but naturally all in good spirits as this customer was explained what kind of drink he would be getting if he in fact ordered a pinga, which he did. Regarding the rest of the menu; it basically limits itself to sandwiches, sodas, natural fruit juices, ice creams, cakes, and other tasty but simple snacks however this place is special because of the personality of its Brazilian owner. This Brazilian man who upon many a time did he and I get in to arguments over subjects ranging from politics to football to Formula One, with us agreeing as often as we did not. Naturally, as a Brazilian; he like me was a football fan, who believed Brazilians to be the best in the sport we Italians are now world champions in. I even recall, a day in 92 on which I went to this place, hoarse from shouting after watching a world cup qualifier which Italy, while playing at home barely managed to tie against Switzerland and hearing him tell me that Italy had not done so well. Which of course was true but we did settle that perhaps we should wait to see if Italy and Brazil met again in the next world cup which they did with Italy loosing in the first ever final decided by penalties. This man from Brazil, was what I would call a nice guy though he was one of those people who thought he knew everything, this a factor which made it hard for someone like me who really does know everything. All leading to our often arguing, though never with anger. We even played chess at times, him being on my level as he was able to beat me in 10 out of 19 games in what was our series which he ended up winning. Apart from football, we also talked about Formula One, with both of us totally agreeing that there was nobody like Ayrton Senna. The Half Orange perhaps because of its small size did not really lend itself to dancing or parties but I will never forget the day on which the whole Brazilian woman’s volleyball team came over to celebrate their qualification to the Barcelona Olympics. This after having beaten Peru’s national team 3-0 and with moods high it could not have been anything else for these lovely talented ladies then the “Lambada”. This a dance which I had seen performed on TV but never the way I did on that day by these female volley players, who despite being very tall managed to move their bodies with such rhythm, which made me wonder if they danced better then they played their own sport. Out of all these ladies on this team one of them by the name of “Anna Moser” particularly caught my attention; for not only her moves on the makeshift dance floor but the way she handled herself against Peru in their match, in winning the most points for her team. That night, I must say was special, not so much even because I was or would become a volleyball fan afterwards but the way, these Brazilians celebrated with not only the owner but a well known (at least in Peru) female fan who had appeared many times on camera, during their match against Peru. She being much like the famous fan “Manolo” who follows the Spanish National football team; only she did so with the Brazilian women’s volleyball team though for my own I only knew her as the sexy one, who happened to be a regular at the Half Orange.   The Half Orange, was a place that had many things that made it different then other places I have taken a liking to; like the Halloween party which took place there. This a gala event which I attended, though not as creatively as its owner who via the help of a cape and make up transformed himself in to Dracula, while others followed suit. The Half Orange though varied in this sense however was like the rest; in its also having that thing which I believe every place should have. It being the sort of place that gave the sensation of true amity, the moment one stepped in, which can only be created by a friendly atmosphere as the one that existed in the Half Orange. This the thing I sensed by how upset those who I had come to regard as friends were when I told them, first that I had had my camera stolen and that I was going to back to the states. In this I must confess though that as pleasant as all these things were the real reason I never stopped going to The Half Orange was a young lady by the name of Melba, who worked as a waitress in this most interesting place, which was made beautiful by her. Melba was short, perhaps only152 cm in height with not so long natural jet black hair, and a face that really captured the beauty of her true nature which made her write me one of the loveliest love poems I have ever received telling me her hopes were for more love between us, “Mas amor entre nosotros” as she put it. Melba, I could say was a girl who was simple in her ways but yet managed to pack a lot enthusiasm in to everything she did and though perhaps ours was not meant to be, she did introduce me to several things. One of them being, Latin music which I had never been a fan of but did develop a certain taste for; after hearing artists like Ricky Martin, Sasha, Locomia, and many others at her almost insistence. It was also many a time that I went to The Half Orange and waited for Melba to get off work, after which we would go for walks to the beach, though in winter we limited ourselves to just that while in the summer we once went for a swim accompanied by her sister, Ariseli. Ariseli and Melba however despite being sisters did not really resemble each other all that much as Melba though not light skinned had noticeably less dark complexion then her almost Indian sister. Concerning who was the more attractive however; this I would have to say was a toss up between these two sisters, with Ariseli being one year younger at eighteen. As a footnote, I could add that I had never heard before I met Ariseli, of anybody having that as a name nor have I again.   Melba, however out of these two young ladies; whom I would form most intimate bonds with which were not always limited to the plutonic kind , was the one who would not only teach me to enjoy Latin American music in all its aspects that included dancing but raised my social conscious about matters concerning Peru. After which thanks to how much she told me about the poverty I imagine she came from; became interested in taking photographs of shantytowns in Peru. As a matter of fact it was with her in mind that I decided to help my American journalist friend Steven Miller, do a report on the kind of places I heard she lived in. My intension being to let people see, not only the poverty which was known to all by then but how those people, at the end of it all were just that; human beings. Who as such had hopes and ambitions as did Melba, and were not merely to be treated as cases of charity but as those whose resources as people could be put to better use not only for themselves but society as a whole. I would even teach the basics of English to both Ariseli and Melba, naturally free of charge as in a way I was in love with them though I could never make up my mind between them. I even remember, once Melba telling me while she and I were walking down the street, hand and hand as we always did that I should do likewise with her sister, who happened to be in our society. I really do not know why she asked this of me; not that I minded holding two lovely ladies; who also did not mind the same, perhaps Melba did not wish her dear sister to get lonely or feel jealous; not that with her looks she would ever need to. It strangely enough after that day set us on course to the kind of relationship known as a “ménage au trios”, as Ariseli and I lost our shyness with each other, perhaps what Melba had had in mind all along. I though at times perhaps did not always respond to Melba the way, I should have which gave her the false impression I might add that I was angry with her but nothing could have been further from the truth, as my life was simply complicated then. This being something I explained, once after I failed to really say much to her, when I visited the Half Orange with Steven Miller, with whom I was discussing the possibility of introducing him to other Americans who were working for the DEA (Drug Enforcement Agency) in Peru. I would go on to leave Peru at the start of 1993, in a move which unfortunately broke all contact between myself and these two most tender sisters; given that we did not even exchange address. This much to my regret; as I given the cheap flight I found to Miami was left with little time, even for these two who had been very special in my time in Lima. Melba, even making a most favorable impression on my Italian grandmother from Genoa, who would live out her days in Lima, Peru as my sister was there and took her care her till death finally came to her at the century mark.   In conclusion, I would say that I regret having lost contact with not only Melba but her sister Ariseli, for there was something magical in them that if I had been one to settle down; back then would have made me do so with one of them or perhaps both as maybe in them I had found my whole orange as opposed to just half of one.