The Best Pizza in the World

On our last night in Naples, we decided to get the most out of the pizza capitol; we would not order a pizza each at dinner, but order only one pizza, share it, and then move on to another pizza place. Even though we were full after the first half pizza, we still went through with the plan…

In all, we ate at five pizzerias (in four days) – Da Michelle, Trianon, Azzura, Sorbino, and El Pizzaiolo del Presidente . They were all delicious. Strangely enough, and Jeff and I are in agreement about this, the pizza we enjoyed the most did not come from a place on “the list”. Our favorite – Pizzeria Azzura – Bellisimo!

As for dining experience – we agree that we were best entertained at Trianon. This place had three floors, with a pizza oven on each floor. Next to us was a large family with three or four children. They must have known the owners (or been the owners) as some of the children (5 or 6 years old?) were carrying globs of dough from the kitchen. It was adorable to watch them decorate their faces with it – dough balls plastered over their eyeballs, over their noses… preciosa!

Saving the Best for Last - Capri

Monday, 27 July

We decided to wait until Monday for Capri, as then we would not have to battle the weekend crowd. I wasn’t sure what to expect, except that I hoped we could swim in the Mediterranean – I feel giddy when I get to at least dip my feet into a new sea or ocean. Jeff had at first tried to quash my expectation by describing the waters around Naples as pointedly un-beachy, filled with trash, and of a color that would make your stomach turn. While this was somewhat true of the Naples port waters, we were pleasantly surprised with Capri.

The water was a giant blue sapphire. As soon as we arrived, Jeff suggested that we look into renting a little boat to sail around the island. Although the price was steep for us, it resulted in the most magical 3 hours of our trip. Our boat was not, by my definition, little. It was very roomy. It was probably 16-17 feet long, with plush towel-covered pillows covering the bow, and an adorable green and white striped awning over the middle. I couldn’t believe we had it all to ourselves. Our driver, Guiermo, was middle aged and suave (polite, not creepy). He spoke broken English, but had actually worked in New York for 5 years as a singer. Of course, I couldn’t let that information pass me by, and as we floated off the coast of Capri, the azure world around us, I begged him for a song. He sang a classic song – about Maria – and there I was with my boy in Italy, sailing, and loving every second of it.

We felt like royalty as we circled the island, stopping at each magnificent grotto and island villa for a closer look. When we arrived at the “Grotta Verde” (Green grotto), Guiermo suggested that we swim through the grotto, which was essentially a tunnel under the cliffs with sparkling green ocean water glowing with the afternoon sun. Gleefully, we dived off the boat into the warm Mediterranean and swam through the enchanted grotto. (Is this sounding good yet?) It was stunning.

Once off the boat (sadly, we did have to get off), we took a ride up to Capri to finish with some gelato (of course) before the ride back to Naples. The view was spectacular. Perfect day.

Man Vs. Food: Food Wins

Sunday, 26 July

A bit of a rest day as we explored Naples and spent most of the day eating. Actually, I’m not sure I can say that, as we only had one main meal, lunch. (But it went on for hours, had four courses, and made dinner feel impossible.)

We started off with a walk through Naples, visiting more astonishingly beautiful buildings and churches and staring at them open-mouthed. Eventually, we gave up the walk, and took a taxi to an old favorite restaurant of Jeff’s – Restaurante Ciro in Mergellina. This place was top end. The waiters were all wearing white jackets and black bowties, and many of the diners looked like they’d just stepped in off their seven million dollar yacht or were meeting another VIP for a “business discussion”. We ate parma-wrapped melon, fried risotto morsels, squid, spaghetti with clams, carbonara, chocolate beignets, tiramisu, wine, and to finish – limoncello. Deliciosa. Then, we were comatose for the rest of the afternoon and didn’t even go out for dinner.

Italian Taxi Drivers - The Exuberant Kamikaze

In Rome, Jeff and I took a taxi back to our hotel one night. We’d had a little to drink, which no doubt made it even more exciting, but I feel strongly that it did not alter my memory of the somewhat harrowing journey. In fact, it is really good that we’d shared that bottle of wine, otherwise my knuckles may have remained permanently white.

It is important to note that the streets in Rome are quite narrow and often quite bumpy. This doesn’t stop the Italians from parking on the sides of the street, however, or even on the sidewalk. But, knowing that cars will be passing at 60 or 70 k, we could see that most conscientious drivers had the foresight to turn in their side mirrors (every inch counts).

I knew the name of the street our hotel was on. Or, I thought I did. Via Viafranca. The taxi driver had not heard of this street. We’d already started driving, cars everywhere, pedestrians crossing in front of us, in a three-lane road with no painted lane lines, when he started typing it into his GPS. It wasn’t coming up. “Viafranca? Viafranca? “ and then more fast loud Italian words that sounded something like, “I’ve never heard of Viafranca! You crazy tourists don’t even know where you are staying! Viafranca? There is no street called Viafranca! I don’t believe you, you must be making it up. Viafranca. Ha!” He kept shouting out to other taxis that were passing us (or cutting us off), asking if they’d heard of Viafranca or Hotel San Marco.

Finally, we had a winner. Our driver threw his hands in the air and shouted, “Villafranca!!! Villafranca!” and then something in Italian that must have been, “You silly girl, you were so wrong. You weren’t even close. Villafranca, not Viafranca.” I remembered then about the L’s – I’d been reading them as if it were Spanish. Italian is not Spanish, whatever you may have thought, it is not even that close.

To make up time, our driver decided to go twice as fast as everyone else. He weaved in and out. He drove far too quickly up very narrow streets. At one point we heard a loud thump and I had to ask Jeff if he was all right, thinking he may have had his hand out the window, but no – someone had forgotten to turn in their side mirror (live and learn).

….

I’d thought that was going to be as good as it got, but then there was one afternoon ride in Naples. Driving equally as quickly, as if the cars around us were an obstacle course to weave around, this driver put icing on the cake by exhibiting his opera singing skills. As loudly as he could, waving his arms about the car, with a big smile on his face, he sang Italian opera to accompany our adrenaline high. I couldn’t help but enjoy it, actually.

When we stopped at a light, a pretty young girl with her window down stopped beside us. Our driver, who must have been at least in his late 50s, paused in his singing for a moment to cast out his best line. I don’t know what he was saying, but she was just laughing at him – and when she pulled forward, be pulled forward – shouting out the window, not forgetting his opera. The girl finally waved and drove away, giggling. So did we.

The Best Honeymoon Moment

Ok folks, remember after all that this is my honeymoon. This isn’t going to be x-rated, but it does include the word “naked” so read on at your own risk.

Yesterday after lunch Jeff and I were on our way back to the hotel for our daily cooling off nap. Just next door to the hotel was a “Spadfofosa,” the Italian word for “really yummy sweet bakery.” We stopped in and bought two delectable looking treasures. As we were taking them to go, they were placed on a cardboard tray, put into a decorated bag that was folded over to look like wrapping paper, and tied up in a gold ribbon. It felt like my birthday when they handed it to me. I was all smiles.

Then, back at the room, Jeff and I had our cold showers (really not bad considering how hot it is), and laid on the bed – just chatting, he was looking at something on the computer – I got my little parcel and rolled over, opening it like it was a priceless thing and we gobbled the most delicious treats – naked, in bed, in Italy. Best Ever.

Journey to Pompeii

Saturday, 25 July

Today, we journeyed to Pompeii, a 2000 year old city that was astonishingly well preserved under a heap of volcanic lava. The volcano in question, Mt. Vesuvius, put its time capsule over the town in something like 79 AD. It was amazing the see the cobbled streets, walls, rooms, fountains, whole houses… from a civilization so long ago. What was especially mind blowing was how civilized these people really were. They had houses with kitchens and both a winter and summer dining room, they had gutters to collect rain and water their gardens, they had lead pipes that carried water through the town…. Incredible.

We saw bodies of the dead (actually, I’m not entirely convinced that they were the real bodies, but Jeff is), and particularly disturbing among them was the one praying, probably in the knowledge of imminent death. We saw pots and stoves and 2000 year old toilets (but we weren’t allowed to use them), and a lucky phallic statue that Pompeiians thought looked great on their doorstep. It was a city that seemed to go on for ages in every direction. I was awe-stricken.

Pizza again for lunch… could almost say that it was better than da Michelle… perhaps all pizza in Naples is the best in the world.

On the tracks... to Naples

Friday, 24 July

Got an early start to hit the road for Naples. Left the farmstay at 8:45 to catch the 9:15 train which actually comes every day at 9:37 (never trust an Italian train schedule). On the way we had to change trains in Cassino, which turned out to be a wonderful coincidence, as it was in this city that Jeff’s grandfather faught in the battle of Montecassino during WWII. We were laid over in Cassino for over 2 hours, enough time for lunch, pastries, and a visit to the museum. Well, Jeff went to the museum while I watched our bags at the station… He didn’t actually tell me he was going to the museum (as he didn’t know at the time), and after he’d been gone on his “walk” for over an hour and the train was getting ready to leave, I started to have a bit of a panic attack… Lucky he had giant balls of fresh mozzerella to appease me when he returned.

We arrived in Naples mid afternoon, and although the hotel room is not spectacular we are willing to sacrifice hot water for the air conditioning. Jeff is cool for the first time in Italy.

Dinner tonight – Pizzeria da Michelle – argued by some to be the best pizza in Naples, and therefore the best pizza in the world. I must admit, it was pretty damn good pizza.

Adventures in Sora

Thursday, 23 July

The 20 minute walk down from the “apartment” was much better this morning than last night. Last night it was dark and we were tired from a day of travel and a delicious home cooked meal on the farm. This morning, it was bright and the view of Sora between the purple wildflowers and tall grapevines was captivating. The air was still cool at 8 am and we walked hand-in-hand down the narrow street bordered by farms and villas. Ah.

After breakfast (fresh baked bread, plum jam made on the farm, and pecorino cheese from a local shepherd), we took the lazy walk down in to town with our new friend Mandy (45 minutes). Every Thursday there is a local market that we were anxious to discover. The market was HUGE for such a small town, and we realized that at least part of the market must have been booths that travel from town to town throughout the week. Most of these booths were selling shoes (really uncomfortable looking ones) or hats or t-shirts or junk. Finally we arrived at the meat and produce part of the market and Jeff was immediately giddy. The fruit and vegetables were in large wooden crates and glowed with color. Friendly Italians offered slices of proscuitto for tasting. Fish, cheese, sausage, candy…. Everything spilling out of the surrounding booths which were manned by shouting Italians. Every time we tried to buy something, we’d say, “just one peach… uno, uno” and hold up one finger to communicate that we only wanted one, the seller would look at us and wave us away shouting the Italian equivalent to “Take it!” We had peaches, blackberries, rock melon… mmmmm. We opted NOT to buy one of the baby ducks, and were quite surprised to see them put into plastic bags to carry away….

After the market, we set off for “Castello Sora” or the castle of Sora. We were told it was up a hill, about a 20 minute walk, past the church, so up we went. And up… and up…. And up…. My thongs held up surprisingly well on the rocky hour-plus hike, but the heat was exhausting. We finally arrived at the ruined medieval castle, which was actually quite a treasure. What made it more appealing was that we had the place almost completely to ourselves and were able to enjoy the magic of such a forgotten relic.

In the afternoon… gelatto again. J

And then the walk home…. After attempting a bus or a taxi (to no avail) we were doomed to make the 50 minute walk back up the hill to the farm. Both of us exhausted, I figured the only alternative was to stick our thumbs out. We ended up walking a little less than half way when we were picked up by an old man and possibly his granddaughter. They spoke no English, but kindly dropped us off outside the farm. They were probably wondering why they picked up those smelly tourists….

Italy Farm Stay

Wednesday, 22 July 2009

Left Rome this morning. Although there was still much to see (the inside of various churches, the catacombs…) Rome was making us tired. Everyday seemed to involve walking, waiting, sweating, waiting, walking….. Not that it wasn’t beautiful and romantic also, but I was drawn to ideas of country villas and a small town for a break between Rome and Naples.

Although not exactly the villa from “Under the Tuscan Sun,” I did manage to find us a farm stay just out of a small town called Sora. It is an organic farm perched on a hill, with a modest 3-story home where visitors lodge. Jeff and I are actually staying up the road a bit, in a private “apartment.” Though also modest, I was enchanted by the narrow cobbled streets between buildings and the veranda bordered by walnut and plum trees. Immediately, I imagined Jeff and I enjoying a bottle of wine, the outlook, and each other’s company in the evening.

Getting here was certainly a warm ride, and there does not seem to be a plethora of opportunity to cool off. Of course Jeff is suffering more than I, but there is still some light in his eyes when he sees me smile. This afternoon is a quiet one on the farm, with little energy or motivation to move in the breezeless heat. I did take a look around to find goats, sheep, olive trees, tomatoes, grapevines, squash, etc. Tonight’s dinner will be completely homemade with most ingredients coming from the farm.

We are here for two nights and already have great plans for the morrow. Unfortunately, it will involve more walking in the heat…. It will be disappointing when I find that I have gained weight (I’ve eaten a giant ball of mozzerella nearly every day for an appetizer….) despite the fact that we are sweating plenty…. And not just because of each other!

Colossally Aching Feet

Tuesday, July 21

Jeff and I decided that this will be our last day in Rome. Our feet are sore. Our eyes need to rest.

Today: The Colosseum and Roman Forum. Impressive. Phenomenal. Magictastic.

What else can I say? These guys could build.

Forgot to mention yesterday my now numerous visits to my new favorite shoe store: Campers Shoes. I’ve now bought four pairs of shoes on this trip. Psychologically great for the aching feet.

Vatican Expects Fit Christians

Monday:

Phew. Big day in Rome.

We began at the Vatican. Immediately upon exiting the bus, we were inundated by salesman for an English spoken tour. The guy insisted that we would have to wait three hours if we decided to go it alone. We rolled our eyes, having learned from our taxi driver, and proceeded to get through the door in less than 10 minutes.

Lucky for us, Jeff and I were careful about what clothes we wore. Although it was sure to be another Roman scorcher, Jeff and I both donned pants and I made sure that my blouse was not sleeveless. As we approached the Vatican Attire Assessors, numerous people in tank tops, shorts, and mini skirts sat morosely on the sidelines, and some could be heard swearing or pleading toward the front of the line. Jeff admitted that the last time he had attempted to enter the Vatican, he had been turned away.

St. Peter’s Basilica was an impressive homage to Christianity. Personally, I felt that the Catholics were being pretty open-minded to let heathens like Jeff and I (and the 20,000 other people that must have been there) traipse around the marble floors.

Next was the halls of the dead popes. Hard to believe that they’ve got all those dead popes in those big fancy boxes down there, but I guess it’s true. The oldest guy they’ve got is St. Peter, hence St. Peter’s Basilica. I dared Jeff to ask someone where they kept the body of Jesus, but he declined.

Much to our dismay, the Sistine Chapel was NOT attached to the Vatican. Instead, we had to leave the Vatican and walk about a kilometre in a huge line of people to the Vatican museums. Once inside there were endless hallways and rooms of art, each with a sign and arrow indicating that the Sistine Chapel was further on. While impressive, immediately the heat and gold within the museum became oppressive, and we hurried along expecting Michaelangelo to be revealed around each corner. I’m trying hard not to exaggerate when I say we walked a mile of hall and staircase before finally being thrust into the great chapel. Inside, the first thing we noticed was that the giant room was filled with as many people as could be squished inside. 1000? Our heads were throbbing from so much historical art that we quickly glanced to see Michaelangelo’s version of Genesis (and the one of the fingers reaching out to each other) and fought our way out toward freedom.

Ah. Gelato makes up for everything.

Rome in a Day

Our first day in Rome (but still a few more to go). We arrived late (9pm?) last night, and decided to take the "taxi" outside the train station. He said he'd take us to our hotel for 30 Euros, which sounded awfully pricey, and his car did not look like a taxi. But, as it was late, we didn't really have much choice, so we paid the price. It didn't make him seem any less fishy when he made only left turns for the next 15 minutes. In the morning when we set off to explore on foot, we quickly found the train station again..... Ah... "Che e vita"... (That's life).

So, our first day in Rome... Took a city tour this morning which was an architectural feast for the eyes. It also involved a bit of skin roasting, so I guess Apollo traded feast for feast. Or it was punishment for going in the Pantheon bare-shouldered.

Rome is beautiful. It is the sort of magical place where dreamy American girls like me can trace the very beginnings of their romantic impracticalities. Every street offers new delights. And I'm not talking about the big churches or the Trevi fountain here. It is amazing how much every doorway arch and shuttered window makes my heart flutter, or the way the laundry hanging three stories up blowing in the alley breeze causes and unstoppable smile and the desire to spin around. I know I've taken at least three pictures of the ground, because I adore the cobbled streets.

And now... off to dinner. :)

London

Arrived London - July 15. Jeff was so happy to visit his friends and his old haunts. He was amazingly adept as using the tube and finding his way around the city.... guess he did live there for two years. I lived there for a month, but could barely remember the tube stop at which I used to "alight".

We hit most of the highlights, and among my favorites - a nap in St. James Garden.

Beautiful Day

July 11, 2009. I got married! The day was absolutely magic.