I checked their names out when I arrived. They are Italian.
And though I thought several times to smiply knock on their door, I somehow never did it – and it took two months (or almost: I can’t believe it’s been that long already) to run into each other in the staircase. Instead of chatting for half an hour just in front of the door, as would be typical at home, PierGiacomo invited me in, which of course meant chatting an hour and a half). We went out for a beer in the evening, PG, Michela, their friends and me. I have to say StGilles is none too close to our place, at least if you go on foot, so by the time we were back we were all exhausted – and that’s when it turned out they had closed the door without taking the keys, effectively locking themselves out of their flat, so I had two guests for the night. Isn’t it the most normal of things, really.