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. :-)

Mountain Time

Back to solo traveling I left Ischia by ferry, then train, bus and private car to my next destination, Castelmezzano.  Part of the mix of what I do when I travel is a combination of old favorites and new places.  This was really a dartboard throw.  I wanted a smaller town in the center of the country where I could see some mountains.  So I pulled up the AirBnB, map view, and zoomed into where I knew the mountains to be.  I picked third from the cheapest, in a town I had never heard of.  A couple of days later I was on my way.

Again this was one of the opportunities I really enjoy from traveling.  The owner of the BnB picked me up at the bus station in Potenza about thirty minutes away.  Then I got the wonderful experience of a guided tour the last half hour of the trip.  He was able to enjoy my gasp of pleasure as we rounded the last corner and town was laid out before us.  This beautiful village on the slopes of the southern Italian Dolomites sits perched on the edge.  Unfortunately I arrived during a rainy spell.  During my work week it was sunny and beautiful.  The weekend, when I had time, the rain was nearly constant.  I carry a rain poncho with but there was a degree of laziness as well.  It was nice to get some introvert recharge time.

I did get one really nice hike about half way to the neighboring town.  I might have been able to make it the whole way but being a flatlander it is difficult for me to guess when it is going to get dark when there are mountains around.  So though I might have been able to make it, at least part of the walk back could have been in the dark.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to risk it.  The last bit was a tunnel that was dark enough and creepy enough even in daylight.  I read Stephen King’s _The Stand_ and the tunnel part of the story was in the front of my mind.

One local attraction I am glad I didn’t have to decide if I had the courage for was three of the cities run a zip lines between them.  The lines cross over the valleys and my host told me the sensation is of flying.  I think that would be totally cool if I could have done it, but I am not positive I could have.  Better for me it was closed.

My host also told me the previous summer he had hosted a writer in his BnB who was working on a novel, so I thought maybe there was enough "real writer" vibes for me to soak up a few.  The jury is still out on that.

The problem with small town Italy during the off season is eating.  Five days a week in this town there are two restaurants open.  A fairly expensive (by Italian standards) hotel restaurant and a pizza place.  On the weekends, Saturday & Sunday (differing from the American standard of Friday & Saturday) there were two other restaurants that opened up.  But two nights, if you hadn’t planned ahead, you are going to go hungry.  I was closer to that end of the spectrum.  I had a quarter bag of peanuts, a bag of wheat crackers and half a loaf of bread.  Not the most balanced of diets but I didn’t starve.

I had lunch at the more expensive place (Hotel Dolomiti, via Michele Volini, 19) and found it to be entirely unremarkable.  The pizza restaurant (Pizzeria Rosticceria, via Roma, 10) was interesting and served a good pizza.  Walk in one side, where you order and take away pizzas but if you want to stay, then the woman takes you across the street to a room a few steps below street level that has five tables.  There she will bring you your wine and once it is ready your pizza.  I was surprised, the pizza was sliced.  Maybe because she immediately identified me as American?  Cut pizza is a rare thing

There have have been so many “best in my life” meals here in Italy.  Maybe you tire of hearing of them, but it was another occasion.  When I arrived my host was pointing out places to eat and places to avoid.  One of the places was only open one night and I am so glad I ate there.  It was an odd place. 

Signage was very minimal, just a hand written menu taped to the door usually closed. But one night as I walked by that door was open. No sign inside either but some stairs going up.  I still have trouble getting used to the eating hours in Italy.  I tend to go out about seven forty five even though I know they only have opened at seven thirty.  It still, even after I have lived this life, throws me when I walk into a place at this time and find it empty. In America I would assume they are closing, not just opening. 

It is hard to make assumptions of what the relationships are of all the parties.  Here is how I read the situation.  There was an old man who acted very much like the father.  There was a shy young man who seemed quite put upon and chased around by the old man.  That sure screamed son to me.  Then half way through my first glass of wine an early thirties no-nonsense woman arrived. Older sister perhaps, or an unrelated employee? There was some unhappiness directed to her as well. To me, that unhappiness looked like “You’re late.  …Again” but she ignored it completely and just went about her job.

Even if I read the relationship wrong it was amusing to watch.  The old man walked around with a smile to the customers and a look of frustration to the son.  Resignation to the daughter.  He came up and spoke cheerily and earnestly to me, shaking my hand and speaking in Italian.  I have no idea what he said but I know he meant it.

Just what affiliation there was to Knights Templar I do not know.  I didn’t even realize they are an organization that still exists until I got a new neighbor a few years ago who moved from Washington to my small town.  He had come from a highfalutin government position and told me he was a member.  One time after a few drinks I asked him if they still guard the holy grail. He told me it was a pity I hadn’t asked the previous week.  It had been his turn to watch it and it had been sitting in his garage.

The meal was great from the beginning.  I had a small complimentary appetizer they brought out that was very tasty.  I didn’t get a picture of it.  I had a pasta with  a local type of large dried pepper which was very good as well.  The pepper was not particularly hot but had a really nice flavor.  But the real star of the show was the tiramisu.  It was the best I have ever had in my life.  Perfect!  Not soggy at all.  Not too much espresso.  Plenty of chocolate over the top.   I loved it!  They were happy when I asked for a glass of grappa at the end and poured me a tall.    I ate at the other places as well but far and away this was the best meal I had in Castelmezzano.

The AirBnB I was perhaps not the most convenient, but certainly the most interesting place I have stayed at.  It was carved into solid rock and was almost cave-like in the bedroom.  Not surprisingly it was very, very quiet.  The only inconvenience was the bathroom was outside the apartment.  Late night trips were accomplished by stepping outside into the hallway which was visible to the street below, then up a few steps into the bathroom.  Luckily no passerby was startled to see a naked man at 3am.

Off With Its Head!

There was really only one last adventure to be had in Firenze before departure. Something I had heard about, wanted to do, but had never gotten around to.  Visiting the buchette di vino, the wine windows.  Created back in the 1600s during the bubonic plague they allowed the wine merchants to continue to sell wine with minimal customer contact.  These days we use sheets of plexiglass but back then they created a little window through which you can order and receive a glass.  

There used to be hundreds of them but many have now been closed up.  Still we found plenty, certainly more than we needed in one night.   Our situation was not improved by the windows closing for an hour before reopening at 7:30 for dinner. What else was there to do but have a couple of glasses of wine in a bar while we waited for the windows to reopen?

Luckily after the window tour we staggered to a fantastic and sobering dinner at Aroma of Indian just around the corner from our BnB on Via Sant'Antonino, 39/R.   We asked for spicy and that was a good thing.  It was wonderfully flavored, still very mild by American standards.  I abstained from even beer during the meal which was a wise long term choice for me.  

Leaving Firenze we did a brief tour of the Cinque Terre.  I was very happy to discover things had not changed.  For the third year in a row the very best croissant al cioccolato of the entire trip can still be found at Bar O’netto right on the main street of Riomaggiore. It is perfect, crusty and buttery, and has to be one of the best of my life.  So many places take a plain croissant and shoot a squirt of Nutella in it.  The ones who care at least warm up the Nutella but it still is only adequate.  Acceptable in a pinch, but the real thing, chocolate cooked in, is at Bar O’netto and I look forward to it every year.  The barista in the morning is also an interesting fellow.  The music tends to be eighties and nineties heavy metal to which, as the mood strikes him, he whistles along quite expertly.  The joy of whistled AC/DC first thing in the morning is unexpected. 

She won’t be happy I am going to tell this story but what are friends for?  We went to Manarola for dinner and The Seamstress ordered a pasta with prawns.  Lots of stuff in Italy arrives at the table in an unvarnished, natural state. This was a good example. The timing was bad because we had just finished discussing how horrified we were at how some places serve fish.  You get an entire cooked fish showing up at your table.  Moments later her plate arrived with three large whole prawns on top of the pasta.  Their long antenna drooping off the side and beady little eyes staring up at her.  Her first comment was on the order of “how the fuck am I supposed to eat these things?” I asked, “Technically or morally?”  When she answered, I responded “Google, how to eat prawns?” and relaxation washed over her face as she whipped out her phone.  A couple of videos later she was chopping their heads off.  Well, I guess it wasn’t a moral issue holding her back.   Two years ago I had one of the best pastas of my life at this restaurant.  It had rock crab on top but the crabs were partially shelled.  There was not the same level of barbarism involved in that meal.

The next day I was up at six and we were heading to the train station.  We were on our way to the island of Ischia.  We popped for some pricier high speed trains and got a couple of really lucky connections. I mean, I say lucky because no matter how much I plan stuff it never goes totally smooth.  But with her at the wheel we were able to knock an eight hour travel day down to six.  We were on Ischia because when first talking we were thinking it would be a cooking trip.  Our goal was to do at least a class a week.  But those were my tasks to plan and …well, you know. 

She had on her list to visit the island of Capri but when I did some checking into it, BnBs and really everything, even in the off season, was very pricey.  Around that same time I had found that a chef I had taken a class from the previous year was in the process of moving to Ischia, a larger island to the north of Capri.  Island, check.  Cooking class, check.  Perfect!

Getting there involved taking trains to Napoli, then a ferry out to the island.  There is always a problem when you cross from government to private infrastructure.  Not limited to Italy, America has the same situation. The subways link perfectly to the intracity rail systems.  There are signs that guide you between the two government entities seamlessly.  But going to the privately run ferry system, not so much.  I am sure it has to do with the government not being able to show any favoritism.  The subway dumps you out into a free-for-all of ferries and cruise ships with no guidance at all.  Dragging luggage (next year I swear to pack lighter) is never a good way to find a specific thing in something the scale of a bunch of ferry systems.  There appears to be three different companies providing service at the three different docks located quite a distance apart.  Tickets must be purchased and gates found.  It never goes smooth.  Throw in the foreign language element and it is that much harder.  We first went to the cruse ship area and realizing our mistake I shifted into my method of asking someone for directions every hundred yards or so.

I know we made the wrong choice going over.  We were on a small, passenger only, ferry with sealed up windows and no air.  I hated it. I don’t have particular claustrophobia issues the way I have known friends in the past to have.  It isn’t small spaces I don’t like, but put me in somewhere there is no fresh air and I suffer aggravation.  Eventually it ended.  The BnB was beautiful and had a really pretty view of the castle on the tip of the island.  Easily the prettiest view of the trip.

This is a few days where I don’t have my typical varied restaurant review.  There was really only one place open on our side of the island. Called Restorante Pirozzi on via Seminario 51, I ate three meals there.  They did alright with pizza, I thought it a little over sauced and the crust too tender.  Not chewy enough.  But their pasta, and particularly the spaghetti pomodoro, was amazing!  Just a simple dish of pasta, olive oil and roasted plum tomatoes but it tasted so fresh and flavorful it was exactly the meal I was looking for.

So a beautiful view of the castle but sadly the one major tourist attraction on our side of the island was closed for maintenance.  Part of off season travel is this fact.  It is the time these places rebuild.  Just like the walking trail between the towns of the Cinque Terre.  In three years it has never been open.  The other thing, our cooking class cancelled.  Oh well, maybe next year.

This was a first for me.  The airbnb owner sent me the WhatsApp number of a taxi driver.  Literally everyone here is on WhatsApp.  When the ferry was about to arrive I texted her and a few minutes later she was there to pick us up.  Then told me if I needed to go anywhere during my stay to contact her directly.  This was a new experience.  One that I didn’t take advantage of during the stay but contacted her the night before departure to arrange pickup the next morning.  Then in the morning, she wrote to me saying the ferry I wanted to take back was unlikely operating due to the wind.  Again, I had never had such a proactive engagement with a cabbie.  She picked us up earlier to get us onto a different ferry.  She walked with me to the ticket window and with her Italian made sure I got the correct ticket.  I had already told her the problem I had with the previous ferry so she got me on a different one.  This one a larger, vehicle/passenger ferry with an open deck.  I was able to pace around in the open air.  A vast improvement! 

This was the parting of the ways for The Seamstress and I.  She was off to Napoli to meet up with a British friend for a couple of days before her flight home from Rome. I decided to visit one of the mountain towns.  We toasted our excellent adventure over a last dish of pasta.  Our own personal Last Supper.