I am sitting on the terrace at Klaudio’s together with a bunch of local guys. It is late morning. Tourists are streaming past our table, and we comment on them every once in a while. A gaggle of girls appears at some point. In their late teens, they are dressed to kill. Their tits and bums are all over the place. Shrill laughter completes the picture. “Hey,” one of the guys at the table nods in their direction and then looks around with a big smile, “what do you say?” Everyone turns toward the passing girls. “To tell you the truth,” I mutter as if to myself, “they scare the shit out of me.” My comment kills the conversation. Chances are it is attributed to my tender age.