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The sun shone full on the Spanish steps in the afternoon, and in the cool spring first weeks of April it felt quite nice. Crowds of people stepped up and down. Many sat like I did. Small groups were hang-outers and just below was the street the piazza and its fountain.
I remember seeing my first, what I thought was a real hippie in a car. He was in the back of a Mini Cooper, with the rear seat folded down, so that he was laying on his stomach, propped up on his forearms, with hair down to his waist. I was quite shocked. I had never seen anything quite like it - well except once on the Steve Allen show. I was out of the loop anyway since being in the army and especially while in Greece. Hadn't heard much if any of the current music, except an album of The Byrds, sent to me by MaryJ, and something of what may have been the Vanilla Fudge band is the best I can do, that one of my army mates had acquired for the unit to play on a phonograph in the tiny rec room.
Met an American woman teenager maybe seventeen. We had an official date and I picked her up at her apartment, and briefly met her mother and her father as well, who I think she said was a musician. She took me to a piazza bar close to the Trevi Fountain, of the film "Three Coins In A Fountain" fame. It became obvious she knew the men who worked there. I got the feeling I was a trophy. Of course the scenario would be: all these American woman going to the Trevi Fountain to meet some gorgeous hunk of an Italian man, and have some sort of Roman romantic liaison.
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