Tuesday, November 2, 2010

"If you ask that old lady what time it is in Italian, we'll chug our beers"

Now that we have changed months I don't even know how to count days anymore. For that reason, you will have to just trust me on the dates. On Monday, the five of us headed for Napoli. We had arranged to stay at Hotel Bellini in a shared room with five beds. The price was right- 16 Euro per person per night. They had free wifi, breakfast, and gave us a very thorough map of the city. Mar had plans to meet with a friend, but the rest of us headed toward the coast for some pizza and a possible trip to Posilipo.

It was windy as all hell, but fun nonetheless. We walked through several street "markets" (I use quotes because these markets were not legal, and therefore anytime a police car would drive down the road every vendor would grab their shit and run into the alley until the cop had passed) where I bought a beautifully amazing scarf and my first pair of Italian pants! I will also note that these are also my ONLY pair of pants as I primarily packed leggings and windpants (for work). So excited for my new clothes, the group and I returned to the hostel. Our plans to go to a club that evening were viciously interrupted by several strikes of lightening. As soon as we entered the hostel, the sky tore open and the thunder and lightening took over. Buckets of rain began to fall, and the thunder was so loud that the windows shook. Though it was sad that we were all stuck inside that night, it was much preferred to the alternative of being soaked and struck by lightening.

Tuesday, the sky was still a bit angry, but the rain had stopped. Mar and Robby were headed to Pompei with a Scottish guy that they met at the hostel (who had also been eating at the same pizzeria as us the day before!) while Jessica, Jake, and I were on our way to Sorrento. The man at Hotel Bellini had arranged a hostel for us with a 10% discount, so we were all set to go. After a long train ride from Napoli Central Station, we arrived in Sorrento. The hostel we stayed at was not as nice as the last, but definitely not bad. We dropped our stuff off in our room, and left to find some lunch. Rosa had recommended that we get lasagna at Bar Fauno in the center of the town, but it looked way to touristy for our liking.

As we made our way through the narrow streets of Sorrento, we ran into an old man who guided us to a small restaurant. We first thought that he was a regular of the establishment, but later found out that we had been duped! He was the owner! No matter, because the food was incredible. I indulged myself in sea bass with lemon sauce while Jake and Jessica each had pasta. We spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening "bar hopping" in many senses. The first being that we spent the majority of our evening drinking beer from several places including a couple stops at the grocery store. The second being that we ate at about three separate gelaterias. And the third being that we ate many a-pastry at several different bakeries.

The night ended at a restaurant by the train station where I severely had to pee. Jake approached the employee (probably about 20 years old) and asked for a table for three (in Italian of course). The kid told Jake that he was sorry, but they were no longer serving dinner. We were very confused because it was only 7:30PM….how could they not be serving dinner?! Still lasagna bound, I approached the young man and asked in Italian, "Where can I find lasagna?" Oh, how the tables turned! "No! You eat here! My friends can cook you good lasagna," he replies in English, pointing over his shoulder at the five young men sitting at the bar. "Grazie!" I reply as Jessica and I take a seat, "but you should say 'where can i eat the lasagna' rather than 'find the lasagna'," he adds as an afterthought.

We get our lasagna (still cold in the middle, but I was lucky enough to not find something gross inside), and I ask the guy in Italian, "where is the party tonight?" He laughs and replies (in English! Again! What the hell!), "Let me go ask my friends…" By this point we are all laughing hysterically, and the boy returns, "They say perhaps in the center. It is Tuesday, so probably no where else." We thank the poor boy, pay our bill, and return to the hostel. While we were disappointed that the "party" was forced to end at a mere 9:00, it was probably for our own good. After all, we would have to wake early to part ways the next morning.

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