Arrivederci Roma
We enjoyed a lazy morning at the B&B.
Following a lively breakfast discussion, replete with rolled Rs and Cristiana's tasty baked goods, we hugged her and said we'll be back. Ricardo, her son, drove us to the airport. I thought Joe tipped him, and I didn't follow up in time. I feel terrible, especially since we got the apartment at such a good price. I tend to err on the side of fare la bella figura, where Joe and many others are better at cost-consciousness. Well, I'm the one complaining all the time about being broke, so that's a lesson, I guess.
We wanted to get to FCO with plenty of time to spare, as we had checked luggage to drop, and the VAT credit procedure to finish. Both of those things were ridiculously fast and easy to accomplish, so we investigated where to have lunch.
But first, I wanted to get a Porchetta di Ariccia panino to take on the plane. Airplane food is disgusting, and there's no porchetta quite like what you can get in Rome. My salivary glands activate when I merely think of this treat. Joe had no interest, so I got my own. Fine. Stay a stecchino then!
We settled on a place called Bollincine, namely because bubbly early in the day is always perfect. I started with that, by the glass, getting the 'good value' pour, since I was considering a glass of red or white wine to accompany one of the great-looking dishes I saw being delivered to patrons.
Starting with drinks, we looked over the menu, and I went old-school Roman with an order of carbonara, while Joe got a ragù. When our cheery server took our order, she asked where we're from. This is such a painful question in these times. Silently, I pointed to the embroidered collar of my shirt, which says, "Non ho votato per lui," (I didn't vote for him) and had her guess.
She broke into a wide grin, exclaiming, "I love you!!!!," in heavily accented English.
A bit afterward, our plates arrived by another server, and our gal told the woman to check out my shirt collar. "Lovvvvvvvely," she smiled, and soon a glass of their top-shelf bollicine appeared in front of me. The scent of it alone was from an address near heaven.
Oh; and the pasta dishes were excellent!
Joe asked for caffè with the check, and they brought little gratis desserts of raspberry macarons, again complimenting me on my shirt! It pays to declare alliances.
Eventually we meandered to our gate, getting separated by a stretch on the flight bridge, where we were stuck for a while. I struck up a conversation with a couple ahead of me, from New York, but he's originally from Palermo. His wife, Toni, and I exchanged numbers, as we said we'd each try to break from our respective family's dining table and hit the beach together next time. They frequent Sicily on our approximately same schedule. They joked that I spoke of an imaginary husband, as I never located him until people were seated on the plane!
The flight includes some troglodyte in proximity, coughing up a hairball, and a guy next to me who often needed me to get up from my aisle seat. I just know I'm gonna get sick. Bleah! Cover your mouth when you cough!
But my porchetta sandwich was delicious.
Until next time, Roma!
*Air kiss out the window*
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