Yes, my last post was November 20, 2010. I should probably just toss in the towel on this one and start afresh on some new, more aptly named blog . . . but, for chrissake, I'm no blogger. Just an intermittent poster of a scrapbook moment now and then. I accept it and, reader, I hope you do, too.
So today, Jon and I took the comp time due us for working two weeks straight with late nights, leaving two very tolerant and resourceful kids to fend for themselves. I do have to work tomorrow -- but taking this midweek day for no other reason than hanging out with just us (minus the Em :( ) felt great. I wanted to go to Rome for the day, but then Jon reminded me that sleeping in would be a blissful change from our routine. So we decided to stay home and enjoy our favorite Italian city: Bella Napoli. Oh, she is a quite difficult mistress with questionable hygiene habits, but beguiling nonetheless.
Today we set off for Book Alley, a (thwarted) visit to Santa Chiara and a wonderful, wonderful lunch at Starita, Napoli pizza of recent NYT Frugal Traveler fame.
We left for the metro station about 11 a.m. (the sleeping in until 10 a.m. was wonderful), stopping for barside cappuccinos. Here's Lily onboard . . . self-curated, as usual. All I can say is "WATCH OUT TAVI GEVINSON!". This girl's nipping at your heels.
Quinn, a reluctant participant in our outing, did ultimately enjoy our wanderings, book seeking (. . but mostly our dining).
My plunder -- there's one vendor with whole rolling box of English books -- who'd believe you could pick up The Santaland Diaries in a cramped alley in Napoli? And how appropos heading into the "season" The Diana Wynne Jones is for Lily . . . Emily, any remarks?
Starita -- a revelation. We had their wonderful angelo diti (angel fingers -- fritters with fresh tomatoes and rucola) and stuffed fiori di zucca to start. How could I believe that my favorite pizza in the whole wide world would be without sauce (red or white) or cheese. Here it is, the Pizza Stock. Lovely shavings of baccala, olives, capers, fresh tomatoes, and parsley.
Lily varied her standard margarita (plain cheese pizza) with some funghi, Quinn had a quattro stagioni, and Jon did something that fed his current hankering for zucchini.
Afterward, we strolled over to see Santa Chiara which my Napoli Tourist Board and La Mattina published guidebook said was open at 2:30 p.m. AHEM. It wasn't opening until 5 p.m. Really? As I was saying about Napoli . . . but you have no choice but tolerance when this kind of gorgeousness awaits you. I've been hankering to go here for, um, years now. Two thwarted attempts, but I will continue my suit.
So we wandered back through a new route that took us past an excellent gelateria (we know this from sampling) and a cheap makeup emporium where Lily induced me to by her clear lipgloss because her lips were chapped . . . and NOT because the application wand lights up when you are applying it. Yup. Back to the metro station and Pozzuoli.
Well, I don't want to overdo it. Best not to set too many expectations, but we are heading to Barcelona for the Thanksgiving weekend. My second Thanksgiving without turkey, and I am not complaining.
While I will not promise, but I hope to post something about it next week some time.