Last days in Italy

I’m back almost a week now, enjoying the westbound jet lag that affords me the luxury of going to bed early and waking up early. Mom and I had such a wonderful trip that I would be remiss to leave out our last two days.

Our last day in Scalea was a “free day,” with nothing on our itinerary. The town is a really small town, one where taxis aren’t really an option, nor is any other form of public transportation. We had seen most of the town in our week’s stay, so we took the day as a day to relax. We slept in and then took the rest of Gramma’s ashes to the beach, where mom said her goodbye. I sat on the rocks and reflected for a while as mom combed the beach for driftwood. We then went back to the hotel where I read a book on our balcony in the sun and mom made her slideshows.

We had dinner that night with our new friends Cristiano and Carmine. They took us up some mountain to another hillside town where we had a nice steak dinner. When we ordered, they suggested we get a pizza as an appetizer and then we’d get two steaks. I thought, finally, they get it, that mom and I don’t eat like Italians, and we’re just splitting the entrees. That was until we saw the steaks. They were huge porterhouse steaks meant for two people. So of course the men were left with the task of doing most of the eating, but we still had a lovely night. We said our goodbyes and hope we can play host to them when they come to NY. The next morning Giovanni, our original driver and the owner of the restaurant, drove us back to the airport, using much more restraint than our original airport trip and left us feeling a lot more comfortable. After more big hugs, we flew back to Rome for our last night in Italy.

We arrived mid-afternoon and knew we had to get to the Vatican before it closed. Unfortunately, we didn’t make it. At this point, almost 4 p.m., we hadn’t eaten since 7 a.m., we were starving. Mom made a suggestion to do the most sacrilegious thing you could ever do, and I obliged. She’d seen a sign for Burger King, and once she’d said it, I couldn’t get my mind off it. So off we went. To eat at Burger King. On a Friday in Lent. A few hundred feet from the Vatican. It actually pained me to type that and admit to it, but ya know what? Damn, it tasted good! We’d had our fill of good Italian food all week, so we got some American fuel and then headed to St. Peter’s Basillica, which was open. Mom admired the beautiful paintings and took some pictures, then we went back to our convent hotel for a much-needed nap.

Later that evening we visited my cousin Jennifer, who married an Italian and lives in Rome with him and their two sons. She took us to a great pizza place where I proceeded to eat myself into a food coma. I got gnocchi with a truffle cream sauce and split a pizza with mom. Then when I saw that they had my favorite dessert, strawberries and cream, I couldn’t resist. After the meal Jennifer gave mom a night-time ride around many of the monuments, including the Colosseum. Then we went to some spot where you could look through a keyhole and get a perfectly framed view of the dome of St. Peter’s. We then went back to their apartment where mom kept her kids up way past their bedtime and I was still feeling lethargic from the meal. We had our last night of sleep in Italy, our last morning meal of cappuccino and croissant, and flew back to NY a few pounds heavier than before.