Sunday collapse and relax

I woke up early, but missed Elena's text three hours later, asking if I were up. Luisa and Ciro wanted to say goodbye. I thought they were leaving a few days later. Luisa told Elena not to wake me (at almost 10:00; I've been up since 6:30). So I missed them, but left them with the thought that I'm a lazy sloth.

Last batch of laundry before we leave, and last chance for a caffè at Scandura, as they are closed Mondays. The macchiato was so good yesterday, I ordered one this (mid-) morning.



I picked up some mignon to have after what is our last Sunday supper but the first Sunday of Advent. The season has officially begun, and trees are being decorated today.

Dropping off the mignon at Mariella's, she was, as always, bustling in the kitchen. "Oggi pasta e zucchine," shs announced the menu between tasks. 

I tried organizing my suitcases. This is going to be difficult and most likely overweight. And things keep coming. Mariella gave me a pretty jacket and a Christmas pin before I walked out her door.

Next thing I knew, it was lunchtime; Mariella called to ask where we are!

Sunday is pajama or sweats or other comfy clothing day. The kids were hanging out, watching cartoons, playing with the puppies, or sitting on Nonna's kitchen counter, eating a banana.






Joe gave Vincenzo the Italian version of the book Sapiens, and Giuseppe Greco was getting a kick out of quoting from it, saying Vincenzo is an atheist who must say the meal prayer before we can eat.

The pasta was savory and filling, the leftover tavola calda were the second course, and mignon along with Elena's cake were dessert. With Matteo on Elena's lap, and her plate of cooked greens and only five pieces of pasta, Mariella cut up portions for Elena to feed Matteo. What Elena didn't know was that every time she turned her head to talk, Mariella replaced the 5 Pieces with some from her own plate for Elena. A chain of moms feeding their children.

I brought a Nerello Capuccio to serve with dinner; Joe and Vincenzo followed dessert with Fernet Branca.

Mariella and Vincenzo gave us early Christmas gifts, a wine and cheese utensil set. I worked some of the pieces into Joe's suitcase. What I treasure most is the card they wrote together for us. They are good friends.

Maria Teresa asked if I wanted to see her decorated tree. Mariella and I took a look, and Teresa also showed me her magnificent storage room when I asked where a little hallway near the front door led to. Matteo joined us.

He's so sweet standing there.

Before he charged at me!

"Sempre rosa," Maria Teresa explained.

We had to balance the visit with seeing Elena's tree.

I keep telling her she's not fat, she's pregnant. I always find her beautiful.


"Monello," she mouthed. Rascal!


After lunch, more clearing out the fridge and playing Tetris with the luggage. I took an evening stroll to say goodbye for now to Biancavilla. Mariella called as I hit the piazza, saying tonight was of course pizza night with friends, but I politely declined. We have a few things to organize. Also, I cannot eat another full meal. She agreed to give our salutations to the group.

Chiesa Idris

Elena says this place is good

Nighttime at the terrace

Lamp, wall texture, wooden hook

Via Scuteri 

I hope whoever buys this bar keeps the moped up top

Christmas balcony 

Alley with lone chair


Peeping into interiors is a passion for me. This is why I like walking around at dusk.

I wish I could buy it.

The only neighbors are an unused chapel and the mother church 

Street corridor where vats of riso for Festa di San Giuseppe are made over fire

Moonlight and Christmas lights

Before going home, I finally stopped at the crispelleria to get savory appetizers. An elderly friend of the proprietors, or a regular customer at least, silently assessed me up and down. I explained it's my first time here, and I remember my Nonna making the anchovy fritters for my Nonno. Although the man didn't say a word, he listened to me explaining all this while placing my order. His expression went from stern to a very very small smile, quietly wishing me a buona serata as I left with my goods. The jury's still out, maybe.

The lunghi are anchovy; the palle are ricotta. They're salty and yummy, especially with a glass of crisp white wine.


We each talked with a kid, I got a photo text from neighbor Javier who shoveled the Minnesota snow, caught up a little on my blogging, then called it a night.

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