Service from an Angel

We have eaten in more places than I care to remember. I want to reminisce on servizio….the service. Most food establishments are family run and you can tell it’s often Mama running the kitchen and Zio Umberto manning the wood fired oven. Times are tough in Italy so eating places are grateful for your business and do their best to make you welcome.

One of the interesting things is that you are sat, given menus and left alone. If you are expecting an offer of a pre-dinner drink, you’ll be disappointed as eateries are for…well…food. Oh and vino but only because food and vino are made for eachother. One of the stand outs for me was ‘Il Palazzo’ at Positano. We were shown to a candle lit table in the garden near a lemon grove. Our waiter was a pure feast for the eyes. He was young and quite simply the most beautiful man I have ever seen (next to Rob). He explained that the master Chef, Sabastino, was in attendance and would be happy to cook for us. Sabastino has won ‘Il Palazzo’ a Michelin Star so I guess we were lucky and the food was sublime. Our Adonis of a waiter served us with careful professionalism.

“What is your name?” I asked him.

“I am Archangelo” he tells me.” You know, like the chief angel.”

I was being served by an Angel.

Bit by bit, we got his abbreviated life story. He lives five minutes from Pompeii on a large property with his family. He believes in organic food and the family grows all they need. He makes his own wine and olive oil.  He is so...pure.

“Where do you like to eat yourself?” asks Rob.

“At home” he replies “my Mother is the best Chef in the world. My Father believes that only two things are important. Good food and laughter. He always tells me to bring friends home who like to eat and make jokes.  I have lots of friends” he adds as he slaps his chest.

I’ll bet lots of them are female.

Archangelo was a direct contrast to my favourite pair of imps at Antico Caffe del Moro in Trastevere.  Niccolo and Vincenzo joke, poke fun and generally take the mickey out of everything.  Whilst still providing great service.

Horses for courses I suppose. I enjoyed Archangelo but the devilish imps are more my style.

Table by the lemon grove

The Imps

Rob with the ingredients of a Negroni

Vincenzo making me an Aperol Spritz (YUM)

Pupazza Frascatana

The Pupazza Frascatana is the prefect woman. She has three boobs. Two for milk...and one for wine.

                                                                  The Perfect Woman

                                          Rob wants to meet her (I think he likes her smile) :-)

Trastevere

I love Trastevere. This area of Rome is ancient and has lost none of its character to modern architecture. The palazzo’s crumble onto the narrow cobblestone lanes. Trattorias and bars are everywhere and coffee, bread and garlic scents continually make my tummy grumble. This place is a magnet for students, artists, writers and sea change expats. A far cry from the sailors and fishermen that made their home here in 509BC.

Best thing is that it is a stroll away from the Vatican, the Colosseum, Piazza Navona, the Pantheon and numerous other ‘must see’ places. Really though, there’s enough to see and do here especially at night when the place springs to electrifying life. People line the lanes drinking and laughing. Parked cars become bar tables and everyone passing is invited to the party. It doesn’t matter if you cannot speak Italian and most Italians can speak English…albeit with a lot of arm flapping. Those that don't speak English talk to you anyway. Like my Uncle Antonio says “I speak perfect English, it is not my fault that they cannot understand me.”  Never stops him talking mind you (he can also whistle in English).

Whilst mentioning Trastevere, I must mention the apartment we have rented. It is in a palazzo that was built in the 16^th century. The ceilings are 6 metres high and the tiles handmade by old artisans. Martin, the owner, has put a lot of thought into making it comfortable (all the latest mod cons) without making it antiseptic. Truly a find if you are looking for a Roman bed.

                                                         Maxirenella (we are on the 2nd floor)

Moi scoffing Brutti ma Buoni from the best bakery in Trastevere (they still use wood fired ovens to bake their bread)

                                                                       Laneways during siesta

                       My favourite Trastevere restaurant (the apartment is lit up in the background)

Best bar for a late night disgestivo

                                          Rob and I 'zoolandering' after the late night digestivoes

                                                  Trastevere-where washing get photographed

                                                      Santa Maria Di Trastevere by day......

                                                       Santa Maria Di Trastevere by night.

La Passegiata

Have you ever wondered what Romans do in their spare time? Well, they walk. In Italian, it is called La Passegiata. The ritual of taking a slow (read very slow) walk in the city or town center. You can easily spot the Italians as they dress up for this ritual whereas the tourists wear running shoes, long shorts, back packs and hang things like water bottles and other clip on items off their belts. I wonder why tourists do this. Seriously, would you dress like this in your own city?

La Passegiata is a ritual in small towns too where locals gather in the village square and have a good gossip. Yesterday, Rob and I went to the Santa Maria Di Trastevere square and we sat and lingered over a wine. New romances were on display along with a stunning array of fashion. People kissed cheeks and laughed. Children danced to the accordion players. The church bells announced the time through the sunset and as darkness fell, La Passegiata slowly faded away.

Romans are a gracious and attractive people who have managed to hang onto traditions despite the onslaught of tourism and technology. I am happy to say La Passegiata is alive and well. Long may it stay that way.

                                                      La Passegiata at Trevi Fountain

                                                                 The Spanish Steps

                                                       Sea of people - spot the tourist

Pompeii

Pompeii was destroyed in 79AD by Mount Vesuvius. It’s a jolly ugly volcano rising out of the plain. We have far nicer ones in New Guinea. The eruption buried the city under 20 feet of ash and  Pompeii remained hidden until a Spanish engineer called Rocque Joaquin de Alcubierre found it in 1748.

Enough history. Is it worth a visit? Personally, I would give it a wide dodge and visit Ercolano instead. Ercolano is smaller city yet it is in far better condition. The houses are intact with frescos still detailed. To be fair, I went, photographed and you can have a look and make up your own mind.  I have. Vote 1: Ercolano!

                                     Temple of a Roman God (cannot remember which one)

                                         Ancient Romans had a weights and measures office

                                                         Some poor ancient buried alive

                                                                A couple of old relics

                                                            Better preserved mosaics

                                                            A very old shop - wineseller

Walk of the Gods

I have walked from Owers Corner to Imata Ridge on the Kokoda Track and I thought that was tough. It pales into dawdle status compared to the Walk of the Gods from Nocelle to Priano. This is me at the start of the trip:

This is me midway through.

What amazes me is that Italians build huge structures (mainly churches) absolutely anywhere. Have an outcrop of rock…let’s put a mansion on it. Their engineering skill are supreme and I gain more respect for these artisans everyday. What they have created is beautiful. It made that walk worthwhile…painful but rewarding. Very painful.

Would I do it again? Yes…but from Bommerino to Nocelle and I would definately not do the 2000+ steps to Nocelle from Positano and the 2000+ steps down to Praino. Killer Killer Killer.

My thighs still scream at the sight of steps.

                                                                           Early in the walk

                                                Walk of The Gods (do you know God is Italian?)

                                                        The wildlife (great goat's cheese here)

                                                                            Gaining height

                                                                            Catching wind

                                                     Another rocky outcrop, another church

                                                           Life must have been hard up here

On the Buses

Being Roman, my Mother never really liked the Napolitaine. To a degree, I have inherited her dislikes but I try to keep an open mind. Yesterday, we decided to go to Ravello to look at Villa Cimbrone’s garden. It is the 2^nd Baron of Grimthorpe’s folly. A mixture of formal British rose gardens, small Bacchalian temples, grotto’s and even a Moorish teahouse.

We bought our SITA bus tickets from Bar Internationale and we were told the bus was due in 15 minutes. It arrived 45 minutes later. The road to Amalfi is a seriously narrow, elevated, winding track with cliff one side and sea the other. The driver thought he was Alonso and took those corners on two bus wheels. I nearly tossed up my oats. After getting to Amalfi, Meg looked at the ocean with ferocity. I asked what was up. She told me she was considering swimming back to Positano.

We then had to catch the next bus to Ravello which is even a narrower and windier road. I sat right up the front and the driver talked to his buddy the whole time. I nearly kicked him in the back of the head.

“Watch the road” I mentally screech.

He just kept talking.

We arrive and he shunted us off the bus. He was very ungracious.

Ravello is enchanting. BUT…we have to catch the bus back.  It is another 45 minutes late by which time, Allan is expressing strong opinions on Italian efficiency. The bus arrives; the driver is an arrogant clod. We make it back to Amalfi and I head for the nearest taxi (just to save Meg from having to swim to Positano).

Funny thing is that every single one of those drivers was a Napolitano. Their dialect is very distinct and to my ear, it disharmonises a beautiful language. Coupled with their bad driving, poor attitude, surliness and rudeness, one can only assume my Mother was correct. There is not much to like with the Napolitaine, especially if they drive buses.

                                                                     Rob waiting for the bus

                                                                    Gardens at Villa Cimbrone

                                                                        Views in the Garden

                                                                       Cantilevered balcony

                                                     View over the edge - lemon trees galore

                                                          Temple for Bacchus - the party god