It Was An Experience

It is really hard to put into words the next adventure I was involved in.  Sure, I could say it was a cooking class, but in fact it was so much more.   I have now taken several cooking classes in the three years I have been traveling to Italy. But this was really next level.  From the very beginning it was different.  Any of the other classes I have taken I show up, everything we need is laid out on a table.  We cook.   Here, we were just sort of plunged into this man’s life of pulling a meal together.  Actually living the life of another culture and I thought that aspect of it was amazing!  

The night we arrived we discovered was Woman’s Day in Italy.  (Yes, I queried. They have Mother’s Day as well)  The upshot was, restaurants were packed.  It took three calls to find a place that would take us in as a favor to Francesco.  Of all things, a very large Irish bar.  I was quite pleased that Francesco was joining us.  I had a cheeseburger because I was craving.  I was a month in at this point remember, and I was hoping to get lucky.  I totally should have had a pizza.  Burgers in Italy come from grass fed beef.  Farm boy that I am, I a corn fed beef fan.  I think the grass fed tastes dry and gamey.   The bun was oversized and dry.  Probably because most people are smart enough to not order a burger in Italy.  Francesco ordered some battered potato wedges that were wonderful.  The potatoes were so fresh, so much just potato flavor!   Italy is so good at getting fresh food to peoples’ plates.  

So good in fact it made for a surprising problem the next day.  I wanted to buy some tomato seeds and bring them back.  In America, every grocery store, hardware, home supply,  garden store, farm store, gift shop and countless others all carry a full compliment of garden seeds.  In Italy seeds are tough to find.  I think it’s because in America, having a garden is almost the only way to get really fresh produce.  I look at the stuff we saw in a fresh market and think, on my best day as a gardener, I could maybe grow something that looks this perfect.  It is essentially just as fresh and I don’t have to do all the work.  Yes, now I understand why gardening is not as popular.

Francesco also suggested just buying some tomatoes and removing the seeds, allowing them to dry.  I immediately thought, wow, that is a huge difference in Italy.  In America it is illegal to buy tomatoes at the grocery story, dry the seeds and plant them.  Seeds can be copyrighted in the US and farmers can tell you seed companies like to make examples of people.  Would they go after a gardener?  Who knows?  But my life is a living example of how crazy the US court system is.

My sad burger experience two wonderful
whole grain pizzas at the back of the frame.

Over dinner, we were involved in an Italian stereotype I had often read about.  We spent a significant part of the meal talking about the next day’s meal!   One of the first questions, did we want to have meat or fish?  Now when I answered fish, I was thinking of things swimming around and having scales.  After being in Agropoli and now in Taranto even further south, I should have thought to ask more questions. I had warned him I was a no mollusk guy.  He remembered that from our initial booking.  I didn’t want to come off a picky eater.  I prefer “choosy” anyway. 

Marble streets of Taranto.

Coming out of the restaurant we had an amusing bit of confusion.  Francesco turned to me and said, “You like crap?”, uh, what did this man just say to me?, I shook my head in confusion, “You like crap? Crap?”  I again was clueless, because I was not going to have a crap conversation with anyone. Then he went on, “Crap!  Crap! They spread’a chocolate on them’a!” I was enlightened.  Crape.  Yes!  He took us out for crapes.  

I forgot what time it was in the morning we were in the car.  I remember it being early, so I just checked the timestamp on the photo.  My first pictures were taken at 9:40. Ok, so it was still morning.  We went to a fish market.  Everything there had been caught that day and it was a beautiful selection.  We were there to buy squid.  I didn’t realize there are different species(I think) and different parts of a squid you can buy.  I also don’t know where the octopus line occurs.  I think I saw some things that qualified.  Francesco picked out a lot of squid, two different types.  I spotted some wonderful looking salmon steaks.  I haven’t had salmon cut that way in many years.  We added those in. I can’t remember what we paid.  It wasn’t much.  Maybe twenty euro(?) Maybe thirty? I should have noted that. Francesco told us we had gotten a discount based on his good name.

We dropped the fish off at the apartment and this is where the trip to the ceramic town in my last post fit into the day.

On the way back I was attempting to practice some Italian and one of my sentences was to inquire if wine needed to be purchased.  I think he caught the gist by the third repetition.  The one phrase I have practiced and gotten good at is “Lo dico correttamente?”, “Am I saying that correctly?” I think sometimes this is the first point they realize I was attempting to speak Italian in the original sentence.  

We did need vino so he took us to a wine shop nearer to the town center.  There, an old man extolled in Italian, the values of three bottles of wine coincidently at the top of our price range.  This was more expensive, again I don’t remember how much.  Maybe as much as sixty.  I am almost always willing to spend more money on wine.  It was a great experience.  All three wines were really good.  The Nerdist ended up really liking Primitivo, a grape common only in Apulia vintages so she discovered a new favorite to ask for that night.

Next we were in the car to a fresh market.  Fruits and vegetables.  Almost everything in there had been raised within a couple of kilometers and picked fresh that morning.  The produce was stellar.  Perfect.  Every single bit of it. Most of my travels have been to bigger cities where they have more, but smaller versions of this type of produce market.  The quality and variety of what they had was greater and higher quality than I have ever seen.

I loved this whole experience of going to these places with the chef.  Generally I show up at the class and everything had been obtained, it’s time to cook.  Seeing where the food comes from and seeing how perfect and fresh it is.  Seeing what to pick out and learning what things were the best  really added value.   At all of these places he seems to be well known.  Another one of Francesco’s side hustles is as a private chef.  People hire him to come into their homes to cook for events.  Not totally _Lifestyles of the Rich & Famous_, but it sounded like he has had a few pretty classy gigs.

This year I have taken two cooking classes, both of them taught by men named Francesco.  Their teaching styles could not have been more different.  Francesco The First gave a short demo and then we did all the work.  His contribution was to look over our shoulder and say “Perfecto! You professional!”.  But Francesco The Second here in Taranto talked and taught while he prepared the meal.  My hands at no point touched food.  The Nerdist was assigned the task of pealing the shrimp.  One thing we learned, shrimp that fresh peal much easier.  Much different than what we get in the midwest.

The tomatoes we purchased were beautiful.  Perfect red, fresh and naturally ripened.  We were creating a sauce and so the first step was to cook them in a covered pan.  Once they were cooked he used a hand blender to turn them to a sauce and had us taste it.  They were delicious.  But he said, wait.  Then he pressed the sauce through a fine sieve to remove all the skins.  I couldn’t believe how much that changed the flavor.  They were much sweeter.   Francesco explained most stomach issues people have with tomatoes are caused by the skins.  Sieving like this makes it easier to digest.  Interesting. 

A little surprising was Francesco’s cavalier attitude toward cross contamination.  When I am cooking I am very, very conscious of what cutting boards, plates and knives have touched raw meat or any type of protein.  Paranoid, actually.  Anything that has, I wash with soap.  His attitude was to just rinse things off with water.  Only use a small amount of  soap in final cleanup.  He thinks soap sticks to everything and flavors the food.  

I never wash my coffee cup with soap for the same reason.  *I think* it tastes like soap for a few cups after it is washed.  I guess I see his point.  The produce in Italy is so fresh, and has so much flavor, maybe adding traces of soap would stand out.  Will it change how I cook?  No way, I would be scared of food poisoning someone.

Americans eat nothing like Italians.  So much food and spread over hours.  Francesco continued to provide great conversation.  The first course was shrimp.  They had just been caught that morning.  I have never had shrimp this good before in my life.  They were so incredibly tender.  Delicately seasoned to really highlight the shrimp flavor itself.  There was so much flavor!  A ribbon of a thick, balsamic vinegar to swish them though.  Outstanding! My favorite dish of the meal.

Before I start I am going to preface this whole thing by one statement.  I have eaten calamari, in the midwest, a few times.  I hadn’t been a fan.  I am glad we cooked them as part of the class.  I feel like I have now eaten them at their absolute best.  Still I didn’t care for it.  I don’t understand the appeal.  But that’s a *me* thing.  If you enjoy this type of seafood you are going to love this class because the food quality is so outstanding.  

Second course was a pasta with the sauce from the roasted tomatoes.  Some large tube (Calamarata) pasta along with some of the squid.  The sauce was delicate and sweet.  Now I wonder.  When Francesco had us taste the sauce to decide if we should remove the skins, the skinless tasted much better off the spoon.  But once mixed with the pasta?  I bet I made a mistake there.  I bet coupled with pasta it is important to have that little extra punch the skin flavor contributes.  I will do some research this summer.

Third was a baked calamari with red and yellow peppers.  We made the pankko from some bread on hand.  Again, so much better than we buy boxed from the grocery store.  My second favorite dish, it also had the thick balsamic around the edge.  

Radicchio is no cabbage!  There seems to be 
three different styles, from what looks like purple
romaine to this which Francesco says is the best. 

There was actually a fourth course but we had to surrender at the end of the third.  Francesco announced it was siesta time.  A great idea!  We reconvened at nine joined by Francesco’s girlfriend for dinner.  Salmon steaks with a side of baked radicchio, a vegetable I have never seen in America.  I expected it to taste like a cabbage and it did not.  It is actually in the chicory family.  I liked it a lot.  The salmon, a touch heavy on fennel but otherwise very good.  Very flavorful.

A little of the remaining tomato to
use as a dipping sauce.

For dessert we had a lovely chocolate cake with white chocolate mousse center, along with some scratch made chocolate pudding on the side.  A spritz of whip creme on top and served on plates Francesco had made himself.  It was fantastic.  The perfect wrap up for the night.  I think we had some grappa and then it was just a matter of waddling back into the hot tub for a bit and calling it a night.

I asked The Nerdist the next day, do you feel like we cooked everything we bought?  She said, no, I think we bought more.   So Francesco will lift a fork a couple of days in our honor.  Ah well.

Here is the deal, at some point Francesco is going to be reading this and his blood pressure going up and down the whole time.  But for the rest of you out there, in the end, you have to look at this experience on the whole.  I think you will really enjoy yourself.  Let it flow over you.  Go into it with the perspective of this is going to cost me a little more than what I originally expected.  I admit, my budget is *super* tight.  The extra won’t be outlandish.  You might not even notice.  Sadly I am in a section of my life where I have to.  

I had such a good time.  I just found myself willing to play along.  When I got on the train the morning we left, I was totally exhausted.  Yet realizing I had one of the most amazing, culturally immersive two days of my entire life.  What am I earning money for if not for this?  I think you will feel the same.  

Not Just Your Typical Faceplate

Before I leave the United States I book the BnBs in the *must have* cities.  But then leave a lot of gaps for on the fly decisions.  One of the must haves this year was the city of Lecce on the southern heel of Italy.  This was the very first one I booked six months ago.  Unfortunately the apartment we were staying at in Napoli was booked or I would have liked to have stayed a couple more days.  Instead we had to move, and if we are moving, we decided to just hit the road for another city.  After her long flight and partial recovery, a number one priority of The Nerdist, my travel companion, was a hot tub.  So she found a place in Taranto and we booked the four days between Napoli and Lecce.  

In my mind we would go to Taranto, Lecce, up to Bari to see the tomb of Saint Nicola, the legend that grew to be Santa Claus in the US.  Then a couple of last days in Firenze before heading to Rome to catch our return flights.  It was the night before we were to leave Napoli, over pizza, when she asked, “When are we going to Venice?”

Two years ago I went to Venice and honestly, I didn’t care if I ever went back.  At the time there were not a lot of restaurants open.  It was still early post pandemic recovery in Italy.  The apartment we were in was at water level, it was damp and moldy.  I never do good with mold.  Additionally, the wifi wasn’t working.  I  contacted the host a couple of times she mostly just told me to wait and it would be available shortly.  It never was.  When I marked her AirBnB down a star in my feedback she wrote me a nasty message demanding I change my rating.  It wasn’t nice.  And no, I didn’t.  This being Italy, I couldn’t be positive there wasn’t a contract out for my life. 😀

Additionally, last year I heard several of the canals had gone dry because of a perfect storm of a high pressure cell that settled over the city, the draught, and the annular tide where the sun and moon combine forces to change the tide.  With the water that low, from what people told me, the smell was horrible.  I could believe it.  That was my excuse for not going last year.

So yeah, months back we had talked about going to Venice but honestly, I had hoped she had forgotten.  And maybe, on her own, she might have been fine with forgetting.  But before she left, talking to her mother, she found out her mother had spent some time in Venice when she was young.  She had some stories about it, and unbeknownst to me it had become a focal point of her daughter’s trip.  For mom, we had to change plans.  So I contacted the Taranto BnB from the pizza table, mentioning the plan might be changing and telling him I would confirm in the morning.   He didn’t respond. 

By morning we had it sorted out and I used the AirBnB app to notify him we would be shortening our stay at his place by two days.  Mom, after all, had to be accommodated.  We were on the train early because it was going to be a complicated travel day.  A train to Salerno, a bus to Potenza, then another bus to Taranto.  I sent through the cancellation of two days and it was refused by the AirBnB host.  This is the first time I have had something like this happen.

He then wrote to me and said he had to turn away another booking, so he was losing money and he wasn’t happy.  I totally understand, but I have read the AirBnB rules.  I had the right to cancel that many days out for no charge.  In fact until noon I could even cancel the whole reservation and only have to pay fifty percent for the first day.  We were signed up to take a cooking class from him the second day so I was concerned that our relationship might be soured by this mix up.  How might that class go if he isn’t happy about being shorted?  I offered a cash compromise.   I would pay him ninety euro, half price for his two lost days.

I had a noon deadline with AirBnB to get a full refund and our train was getting close to Salerno.  A deal had to be struck or not.  She was feeling her hot tub hopes drifting away.  I was actually pushing to cut bait and cancel the whole reservation.  I was thinking we could head to Amalfi instead.  Walk the beautiful coastal trails.  Just as we pulled into the Salerno station he answered and agreed to my pay-half-in-cash proposal.  As it turned out, I am glad.  The next two days were the most memorable of this year’s trip.

This is one of those times where just one installment isn’t going to do it.  Oh no, there is another whole part to this story.  But I am going to skip a whole chunk here.  I will try to get that out shortly.

For twenty euro (remember that) our host, Francesco, picked us up at the bus station and brought us back to his BnB. He is an interesting guy who talked constantly.  His spoken english was excellent.  Understanding my spoken english, not so good.  These days technology can bridge that gap.  We are both listeners though, wanting to learn about his life and city so really it worked out very well.  I hadn’t actually looked at the listing when I booked it.  It wasn’t a apartment like we had been getting but instead just a room.  At that, just a room off of his apartment with a separate entrance.  The dreamt about hot tub was beautiful.  

The next day, part of what we did was an afternoon trip to Grottaglie, also known as “The City of Ceramics” about a twenty minute drive away.  In the car, since I have susceptibility to motion sickness, I was riding in the front seat.  Picture this, Francesco, our host, is taking a computer programming class.  He is learning the language of Python.  I mention I am really interested in microcontroller boards (called Arduino and invented in Italy) and he had played with them some too.  We were off.  In deep conversation of programming ideas and past projects.  This conversation, some of it verbal but at other times via google translate.  Sometimes slowing down, when a particular concept was interesting to him, but at other times, fairly flying down a lane-and-a-half-wide Italian country roads, reading a translate message I had just typed to him.  At one point I thought to look into the back seat.  She was wide-eyed.  I figured she’s here for adventure, if we die, we die.

(Quick interesting side note here.  Just as we drove into the city limits of Grottaglie there were a number of police vehicles pulling over every car and checking documents.  In all my years of travel in Europe I have always carried my passport in my pocket.  This is the first time I was asked for it.  I am so glad I had it and won’t ever be tempted to be lazy about that again.)  

What followed once we arrived at Nicola Fasano’s factory was incredible.  We were toured through this amazing old building turning out the finest of Italian ceramics.  It was an such a unique experience to see this up close. At the point we were there, the plates had already been formed.  They were getting their initial coat of glaze.  Then we got to witness the craftsmanship that followed.

It was all work at its very finest.  It really was, and yet it is impossible for me to not center on one particular task.  A worker was seated in front of a turntable.  He put a plate on it and then he was able to spin it, using his hand from below.  Then he proceeded to use a squeeze bottle to draw lines, in glaze, at exactly the same intervals, and at exactly the same thickness, all around the plate.  His coworkers are going to tease him because I single this one thing out.  For all I know there are probably way more difficult tasks they preform.  All of what they do is so incredible.  But to me, looking at it with my naive eyes, I thought this was one of the most amazing displays of craftsmanship I have ever seen.

I loved some of the dinner plate designs with faces.  They had dozens and dozens of these designs.  If I had more room in my life for ceramics this shop would have been a very dangerous place for me.  To have a collection of these, all with different looks and expressions, would be so much fun to have set at a table.  When your guests arrive, the fun of watching who picks out which face.  Throwing that new information into the mix of the never ending analysis of your friends.  Yes, very dangerous indeed.

I have my own picked out.  I am currently eating on divorce plates and that has to be over.  They are white, dipped in yellow and I think they are beautiful.  Simple, vibrant.  I can see some pasta, with the primary red of the tomato, contrasting with the yellow of those plates.  The yellow, warming and bringing out the color of the coarse, freshly shredded parmesan.  The knockout blow arriving in the form of bright green parsley.  It is going to be amazing!  Shipping is expensive.  I think I could bring back two placesets a year in my suitcase, but I already carry so much olive oil.  I haven’t gotten that puzzle figured out yet.  Maybe I will pay to check an extra bag.

At one point we even got to meet the owner.  An older, eclectic, long haired Italian man. He asked me where we were from.  Of all the typically simple questions to answer, this one always trips me up these days.  I got around it by saying she is from Minnesota.  Not really expecting any response other than a vague look.  But to my surprise, he responded immediately, “Oh yes, Minnesota, one of my best customers is from there, Williams Sonoma.”  Wow!  I realized I had fondled his craftsmanship before!

Francesco himself has a ceramics side hustle.  He either bought or built a machine, that is essentially a large scale inkjet printer.  The difference is it dispenses ceramic glaze instead of ink.  A mix of modern and ancient technology he uses a computer to print to clay tiles before firing.  He can put any image onto a tile.  A very cool business.

Another interesting thing I observed.  Converting everything to MPH, at one point we driving along at about sixty.  Francesco is talking and waving his arms around.  We come through a roundabout and suddenly we were behind a car doing forty.  We followed that guy for three or four miles.  At no point did Francesco express the slightest irritation.  Zero.  None.  We were simply driving slower now.  There is no part of America I have experienced where that would be the case.  Impatience up to and including gun play?  Not out of the realm of possibility.

People always want me to politically query the locals.  Francesco was quite happy with his country and its government right now.  From his descriptions he seems to be a wallet based voter.  The economy in Italy, particularly in Southern Italy, has been growing the last two years.  Good for both of  his businesses.  The increase in military activity in and around the area has war ships pulling into port. To him that looks like lots of tourists who could care less about the weight of what they buy.  The perfect customers for a ceramic salesman. 

But Francesco is a hustler.  He mentioned at one point that he had to get our room turned around quickly because he had contacted the people he turned down.   They had immediately booked the days I cancelled.  <cha-ching!>  He had just made ninety euro off renting the same space twice.  When he said it I was looking directly at his face and I saw the shortest instant of “whoops, shouldn’t have told them that” cross his face.  But like any good extrovert he jumped into telling a story and conversation moved on.  What can I do but think, well played?  It was a deal I proposed, I couldn’t be upset it had worked out really well for him. 

The day we left we were exhausted.  Francesco offered to give us a ride back to the bus station, “Twenty five euro, the same as picking you up.”  I didn’t say anything but I did whip out my phone and confirm.  <Cha-ching!>

Changing of the Guard

It has been a bit of a surprise to me I have never suffered from a lack of travel companions on my Italian adventures.  From the very first person I asked, who almost immediately agreed, there has been seldom a gap.  I wouldn’t recommend it, coming with me, particularly that first trip! But here I am.  I wonder if Rick Steves got his start this way?  I think I present the opportunity for doing out of character things.  Rushing off to another country with no fixed plan is something people might dream about but isn’t something a lot of people tend to do, I seem to be able to pull it off.  Let me introduce you to someone new in these pages, The Nerdist.

This was her second trip to Italy.  Still she wasn’t feeling totally comfortable making it from the airport by train to Rome, change trains then on to Napoli where I was.  So at oh-seven hundred I was on high speed train north to meet her .  A little bobble at the airport as she decided to walk to meet me rather than stay put as I had expected, but it all eventually it worked out.  Interesting bit of technology involved, before leaving I had given her an Apple Airtag to carry.  In Rome I was able to determine we were on diverging courses by looking at my phone.  Texting and using the GPS and allowed us to find one another pretty quickly

Most all of Napoli, from the ground to 
about eight feet in the air is covered
in graffiti. Look at it as art.

The next problem arose as were were coming into Rome Termini, the train station.  We were delayed outside the station.  Our already thin margin to catch the onward train, became thinner.  By the time we finally rolled to a stop at the platform, the train to Napoli was scheduled to depart two minutes.  I turned to her and said, there is no way we can make it.  She assumed I was being literal, actually I was setting expectations, but I had every intention of going for it.  She was therefore totally surprised when the door of the train open and I took off at a dead run, dragging her suitcase behind me.

I have spent enough years running through airports, ferry and train stations I can think it normal.  I look at it like I am catapulted into pro-football and I weaved my way through the crowd like the junior running back at his first chance to carry the ball.  We got lucky, the Napoli train was delayed by two minutes.  We got on with almost a minute to spare.  Pro tip: If you ever think you are cutting it this close, get on the first open train door you can.  Don’t run up the platform to your assigned coach.   You can aways walk up through the train even if it is moving.  Once those doors close, they are closed.  Get on as soon as you can.  After we boarded I heard she had a near full on collision that would have taken us out of the race.  But she didn’t, just a close brush, we were on rolling out of the station and the adventure officially begun.

I did not yet have a ticket for the train we were on.  Toward the beginning of this trip I downloaded the TrenItalia app and had been using it to buy tickets.  No longer having to deal with the kiosk ticket machines in the station.  No longer having to listen to their message “Beware of peek pockets” every time you walk up to buy a ticket.  For that one reason alone I am so happy to be using the phone app.  One thing I learned, you can not buy a ticket for the train after the scheduled departure time.  I didn’t buy the ticket because I was pretty sure we weren’t going to make it.  When you are on a train without a ticket you have to buy one from a conductors.  What is new (I think) is a convenience fee is now charged.  The tickets from the conductor were twenty euro more each over the price of buying them on the app.  But, he was a really nice guy and upgraded us to premium class car.  Basically about what we paid.  Nicer seats and snacks! 

I was back to the BnB by three and logged in.  I still had a couple of work days before my vacation started.  She crashed out for a few hours and got some recovery sleep.  Timing works out well.  Noon at the office in Minnesota is happy hour in Italy.  Dinner time is about quitting time since they eat so late there.  I feel like peak restaurant crowds tend to happen about nine in Italy.  So much later than in the midwest where most restaurants are doing final seating at that time.

At some point between the time of committing to the trip and actual attendance The Nerdist had mentioned one of her very favorite sculptures at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts was a veiled carving of a face.  I knew immediately of one attraction in Napoli that would be a hit.  The Veiled Christ located in Sansevero Chapel Museum, via Francesco De Sanctis 19.  It is a hauntingly realistic stone carving that looks so much like a linen drape over a corpse that initially the artist was jailed for witchcraft.  He stood accused of using sorcery in turning an actual body into marble.  There is a secondary veiled statue of a woman off to the side, also very interesting.

An example of a street I would never
walk down if it was in America!

Wrapping up loose ends I had my final meal at Lombardi restaurant.  She went for a pizza.  Very happy.  Lombardi is a VERA certified pizza restaurant so you will always get a good pizza there.  I went for my favorite, the Spaghetti Belladonna.  It was a little too tomato saucy.  Oh well, that’s what makes the best nights best.  You need to have a few of these mixed in.  Still, it was a great meal.  South of Rome, the bread was perfect.  Very tasty with a wonderfully hard, crusty, crust.  I would love to be able to bake bread that has this crust.  Maybe someday.

Lunch the next day was in west side at Trattoria Toledo.  There are a bevy of pasta restaurants in there just west of the historic district.  The food is good.  The wait staff are part performance art.  When the bill came, I’m not sure, but I think they were trying to hustle/short-change us by twenty euro.  Maybe it was just some confusion in the language but it had a dishonest feel to it.  You will get a good meal, just keep an eye on business.  Additionally they were fishing for tips.  We didn’t bite.

Night two was pizza as well.  I have had mixed results eating pizza at Gino e Totò Sorbillo at via dei Tribunali 32.  Sometimes great, other times served wet and soggy.  Via di Tribunali is a gauntlet of bars and restaurants all with their greeters out front trying to pull you in.  I hate that.  If I can help it I never eat at one of those places.  I had forgotten picking out a different place the afternoon before on via Duomo.  So I guess I will save that one for next year.  As it turned out our pizzas were on the better end of the spectrum of what I have been served at Sorbillo so we were both happy.

When I was attending college the first time I had an instructor who often said the word “Boof”.  It was one of those multi use words that depending on your vocal tone could mean any number of things.  From frustration to excitement, to exhaustion and resignation.  When I discovered a bar by this name only a block away from the BnB at via Santa Chiara 36, I knew I had to go there.  It was a cool place but totally lacked in customer service.  We were just off the end of the bar at a table along the wall.  Never once did the bartender look our way.  No amount of waving could attract his attention.  He only serviced the tables in front of the bar.  The only way we could get a drink is to go to the bar and interrupt him from whatever puttering around he was doing.  Finally we lost patience and left.  Boof! :-(

Margaritas look different!  Plus, in this glass now
you can (inevitably) wear some of it.

Leaving Napoli for the final time of this trip I was disappointed I hadn’t spent more time there.  …I think…  I have this crazy life right now.  In part of my mind, next year I am thinking of getting a BnB there for a month to use as a home base.  Then take day trips off to other cities if I want.  But on the other hand, what I am doing here in the US is very similar to what I am doing in Italy now.   Moving from place to place every couple of days.  It makes me wonder where my forced lifestyle here in the states ends and I start.  I have always thought about variations of the nomadic life I am living right now.  Granted, before I had thought of plans live in style.   Not as a homeless guy sleeping in a van.  But you take the cards life deals you.  You try to put’em together into some kinda hand.  Try to figure out fold, call or raise.

One final thought.  Being in Rome again for the airport meet and around the base of the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore specifically,  I suggest you watch the movie _Spotlight_.  Very well acted.  Mark Rufalo, Stanley Tucci.  It will let you see a serious side of Michael Keaton before you see him in Beetlejuice… Beetlejuice… Beetlej…

The View That Wasn't

My next town in the Italian adventure was another dartboard throw.  The city of Agropoli, on the coast, south of Napoli.  I picked out my BnB because it appeared and alluded to a terrace with a view of the sea.  When I arrived at first seemed to be a total lie.  Once I re-read the listing, I saw what the illusion was.  Sure it was the letter of the law, because on my tiptoes out of one window I could view the sea, but not the spirit of the law.  The first time I have experienced this degree of creative and carefully worded exaggeration. 

The BnB was under construction, the drywall taping only having the first coat.  Only a few of the walls painted.  The bathroom was recently remodeled but the door to the shower, broken.  Not that things would get overly wet.  There was only about five minutes of hot water.  Can’t flood much in a five minute shower.  There were lots of other problems as well but nothing so bad I needed to move on.  It was maybe a metaphor of my stay in Agropoli

The concept of a bar in Italy is different than what it means in America.  In Italy it is more of a combination.  A hybrid of coffeeshop and drinking establishment.  They sell coffee, pastries, sandwiches and oftentimes cold pizza all day long.  And yes, alcoholic beverages too.  I don’t know if that is all day as well, I am not much of a morning drinker.  Happy hour starts about 4:30 and runs until about eight and during that time the bars are often filled with people drinking primarily Aperol Spritz with a few wine drinkers mixed in.

Gigi, a fellow busker who asked me to
join him.  He sang "Love the way you
lie" in Italian.  Beautiful!

The first morning after I arrived I walked into Bar Premier right in the town square and ordered my usual.  It was a pretty good croissant and when I arrived the second day the barisista was standing at the door, she asked me “Caffè Americano and croissant cioccolato?”  Surprised I said yes, and she told me to go ahead and sit down.  I am a loyal customer and total sucker for treatment like that.  I had my coffee there the next five days.  Why not?

The tip-toe sea view

Most of this post has been drafted in this bar over my morning coffee.  It has been rainier this trip than past years. This morning has been typical that way. I am glad I packed my rain poncho. So being rainy, and the Italians really hate going out in the rain, I have had the coffee shop all to myself. But then a few minutes ago a group of five men filtered in and took up the corner table.  Now they all shouting at one another, waving their arms around, talking with their hands. Not in disagreement, they simply don’t seem to have, or utilize, indoor voices here.  It is easy at times like this to understand why stereotypes become stereotypes. 

Another thing that was new to me, there are lots of dogs here in Agropoli and an interesting situation at one restaurant.  Dog owners could check their dog with the host at the front door who would keep track of them while the owners were eating pizza. The dogs seemed totally relaxed with the situation so it must be common. 

On my walk home at night I pass through a church piazza.  These places are often surrounded by buildings with large nondescript steel doors.  The first couple of nights there was nothing going on and all the doors were closed. But last night, Sunday, the entire town was busier. Restaurants were full. Lots of people on the street. It was different than America where Saturday night is the big night. Just outside a bar a three piece band was playing and the piazza was filled with people.  It was fun hearing the mix of Italian and American songs. 

The city has a tourist project it is working on.  They have a castle which looks like it had been in bad shape but now they are doing a lot of work on it.  Hoping to turn it into a magnet I think.  I don’t know if the town has enough other things to keep the people once they are drawn.  But maybe I will put it on the list to return in a few years and see if they have it opened yet.

Short skirts, fishnets and strollers!

Agropoli is a town for young families.  In no other Italian city have I seen so many beautiful and exquisitely dressed women with perfect makeup pushing baby strollers.  Heels and strollers can work together!

But I was not a big fan of the food in this town.  I have trouble with mollusks, so no clams, oysters, scallops, etc.  By far this was their most common proteins in pasta.  I did have some spaghetti with anchovies at one restaurant but it was too much.  I tasted anchovies for two days.  It was at this point of the trip I started to cook.  The kitchen was fairly well equipped and there was a nice grocery store on my walk back from coffee.

Large supermarkets do not exist in Italy.  Instead there are lots of smaller places.  Sure, in many cases the selection and variety is not as good as America.  In other cases it can be better.  For instance, the pasta section will be huge!  There might be a few brands but an incredible number of different types, shapes and sizes of noodles.

Broccolini is very popular.

The produce selection tends to be much smaller and typically you do not handle your own items.  In most cases there will be a produce section worker there.  You can point to the pepper or bundle of parsley you want and that employee will bag it, weigh it and put a price sticker on it.  The produce itself is beautiful!  Very, very fresh and perfect.

There is also usually a fairly extensive alcohol isle.  Lots of wines, but also another Italian favorite.   Years back I hung out with a lot of photography equipment manufacturers and distributors, many of them from Europe.  They knew of the finer things in life, something I was always wanting to experience.  One of those things they introduced me to was Italian rocket fuel.  Grappa.  A distilled drink made from the leftover byproducts of wine production.  In Italy they consider it a digestive.  Something you drink after a meal to help settle your stomach.  In America, if you want a bottle of grappa you need to visit a very large liquor store.  They might have it or you will have to special order it.  You will pay upwards of fifty dollars a bottle.  In this small grocery store they carried more than two dozen brands, from ten Euro up.  I availed myself here as well. :-)