The waitress that held the machine smiled benignly - but in a tired fashion - as she waited for my receipt
"Ludmilla," I said, pointing out her name. "That's a nice name."
"Thank you. I'm from Slovakia," she responded, "but it's a Russian name originally."
"Did you know there's an actress called Ludmilla Ferraz?"
"There is?" she said curiously. "I've never heard of her."
"Oh, well," I freewheeled, "she's only ever been in one film, but I've seen it..."
"...so that's where I know the name from."
I've never been as grateful to see anyone turn up as I was for the fact that, at that very moment, my girlfriend returned from the bathroom.
"OK, well, thanks, bye!" I said, at top speed, as we finally made our way out of Prezzo.
I was, at several points, quite giggly during the walk back home. To the untutored mind, of course, one may assume I was high from the large amounts of cheese-encrusted pasta and salted caramel cream I'd just been consuming.
But I was just ruminating on the question that I may have asked had I not been so thankfully interrupted. And I don't really need to know if our waitress had ever actually been to Rio.