A Belgian wants to go to Parma…
Bert’s ideal vacation had always been to go to northern Italy. To visit the splendid Dom of Firenze, go shopping in Milan, take a boat trip in Venice, but most of all: taste the exquisite proscuitto in its city of origin. He often shared this dream with his friends and all who would listen.
While his parents were understanding, they weren’t exactly rich. So when John turned 18, before searching a job and settling down, he decided to pursue his dream by travelling slowly south and picking up odd jobs along the way.
Two months later, two of his more affluent friends decided to go on a trip of their own, to the Riviera in southern France. Great was their surprise when they stumbled upon Bert in the local grocery store, who was diligently replacing all the price tags of the inventory.
They greeted him enthusiastically, and Bert returned the feeling. ‘So what brings you here?’, he asked, while ripping off a €1.00 label on a crisp bag and replacing it with a €1.20 price tag. ‘Oh, you know, Marseille, Nice and their party life.’ his friends answered. ‘But we didn’t expect you here. Weren’t you going to Italy?’
‘Haven’t you heard the old proverb?’ Bert replied. His friends shared a confused glance at each other.
‘They always say recosting is the easiest way to get to Parma.’