Fiumicino, we love you!

The weather is still scalding, and the beach beckoned. Luckily, it's a quick walk to any of several public beaches from our accomodation.

It seemed pointless to shower and primp. I did the best I could with what I have, which is old-lady skin and thinning hair. Lipstick, sunglasses, and a hair clip were limp band-aids toward looking human, but I'm lazy and tired and Vogue doesn't call anymore, anyway. Ha.

I threw on a swimsuit and put long linen shorts and a tee shirt over it. We grabbed the crotch-ripping bicycles from the B&B that are free to use, and took off towards the beach. Having no beach towel, chair, umbrella, or water, I suggested three lidi I spotted along the way, and Joe flipped a coin successively to narrow our choices. We ended up at Base, a place we've seen before and photographed, and it was "ok". All rentable lido setups were stowed away for the season. Joe ordered a disappointingly small Negroni, and I got a water. We chose an umbrella'd table and sat in the shaded heat, which was pleasant. 

Taking off our sandals, we walked down to the shore and walked into the sea. Bath water warm. On shore, there were women lounging topless (front down), men walking and smoking, couples having a picnic, and a pair of teachers with their day care group, talking about the sea, and later being read a story.

At BASE lido 

Strolling along the shore

Kids getting muddy. I don't know why this little stretch was black.

There's always the curious wonderer, who forgets about the group for a minute.

Most of the shore wasn't black.

Bathwater temps

I never get sick of the color

Storytime 

Brushing the sand off our feet, we re-sandaled and hopped on the bikes in search of food.

As all this was happening, my friends Stacy and Ron, who've relocated to Castelmauro in Molise, were communicating with me. They are also arriving in Fiumicino tonight, as the too fly out tomorrow, going back to Atlanta to midterm vote in person. Perhaps we can do dinner together?

Initially, we were on our bicycled way toward Darsena, to get gelato. Biking along, a word caught my as as we whizzed (ok, panted) past — Ristopescheria. I caught up to Joe and told him about it, suggesting lunch. 

We first heard of these and tried them in Naples; Biancavilla also had one called Red Fish. They're fishmongers who hawk fresh catches of the day, and you but your fish either from a spot around the back, or, as in Naples, right there just a few feet away from your sidewalk dining table. You can't get any fresher fish or seafood! Joe agreed to have lunch there.

The sign that caught my eye

Joe ordered a bottle of wine (!) and tuna tartare. I had one glass of the former, and a bite of the latter.

"I can taste the sea," I said. Indeed; it was fresh and tasty and had a flavor halo of salt.

I ordered something I saw our friend Pina eating a few days ago — octopus and potato salad. I added a side of grilled vegetables, as I was craving them. I all but ran my tongue over the plates after finishing the last bite. Sooooooo good!!!!

Our lunch

We weren't going to sleep on our original destination: Darsena. A little spot in Marsala still holds first place in gelato for me, but this is such a close second, it'd be a Siamese twin if the places were people.

I always get pistachio, and usually split it with chocolate fondente (black-as-sin chocolate), but something else caught my eye this afternoon!!!

They had fichodindia gelato!

I ordered it, sat down, took a photo, and immediately sent it to Vincenzo. He responded just as immediately: Where is this place?! (He loves fichodindia). It was as true to the taste as the fruit itself, and, at the risk of offending all of Sicily, perhaps an even better way to eat it. They had a granita version as well, but it was already "finished," as they say.

Pistachio and fichodindia gelato

I heard from Stacy. They are traveling by "Pullman," a very comfy bus, equipped with movie screens, recliner-like chairs, and a bathroom. But she couldn't wait to get off of it. I guess the quality of the bus trip depends on who else boards. In any case, they're up for dinner together, and they love seafood. I saw this place, rated highly by locals on The Fork, and sent the menu link to Stacy. Ron checked it out, and said it's so easy walk from their B&B.

As it turns out, there were myriad reasons the place didn't work out, so I suggested Seconda Riva, where Joe and I have eaten before. They have whole fresh fish daily, along with a honed selection of other things, and a good wine list.

Educazione Marinara, we will have to look you up next time.

Needing showers and a riposa, or maybe a strong caffè, we ventured back to Capitani Guest House. It felt good to refresh, change clothes, and set out on foot to the restaurant in the cooler evening air.

Some fishermen we casting lines (on incredibly long fishing rods) from the embankment. The sunset lit up furiously behind them, as if raging for having to leave so soon. It's not the Instagram-wear-a-straw-hat-and-sundress type of photo; it's a real-life photo. Fishermen behind me, fixing nets and spooling rope, wearing unphotogenic rubber boots and grungy hats. The line-casters in front of me, with various detritus semi-circling them, quietly lifting and dipping their lines, watching the water mirror the sunset. Not particularly picturesque, yet it is everything all at once. We waited here for Ron and Stacy, across from the restaurant.

The sun was fiery on one side, the town caught a subtle illumination of it on the other.

I can't resist old men.

I spotted Stacy and Ron, who decided to taxi to the restaurant, as they were tired from that bus ride. We hugged and walked onto the patio enclosure. Ron had told Stacy he was so happy I scored a table there, as it's such a beautiful night. Indeed it is.

We got right to business with the menu. Bottle of vermentino, STAT. Stacy stuck to traditional Roman fare, carbonara, and a salad. Ron got ravioli and chose a whole fish (spigola, as did Joe) for his second course. I ordered the paccheri con pesce spada, which is basically Pasta alla Norma with swordfish. Joe and I will share that and his spigola, which we asked for "sotto sale," but the waiter shook his head, insisting it would take far too long, and suggested grilled fish instead.

As he left the table, we mused. Was it that the humidity affects the process? It would slow down the turnover of our table? The cook just wasn't feeling it tonight?

"Probably a little of each," Ron offered.

No matter. The grilled fish was fresh and delicious; the paccheri rivalling it for stupendous-ness beforehand, and the wine enhanced it all. I saw there were two Napoletan caprese on the menu for dessert; lemon and chocolate. I ordered the chocolate with a digestivo of Averna. And though our Biancavillan friend, Graziella, and our Napoletan friend, Elda, are winners for their caprese, this one was good with my cordial.

Joe had a grappa, and Ron got a cherry torta crostata to share with Stacy.

I covered the bill, throwing in a less than 10% tip, which left both Joe and the waiter agog. The waiter brought us a refreshing palate cleanser of lemon sorbet before we wrapped things up.

Hugs to Ron and Stacy, who leave in the morning. We have a nice lazy departure day tomorrow, not leaving until evening. It's really perfect that way.

Female power depicted in the barbershop mural we saw on the walk back

Now to hit the comfy bed in the apartment Cristiana rented out to us for the cost of a guest room. We've really hit the jackpot in Fiumicino.

Maybe this is a good place to buy that Italian home?