The weather on Sunday morning changes minute by minute. I’m awake early to coolish temps and brisk wind. It blows the flowering shrubs, the trees around like mad fans. Then the sun beams, washing a glisten over the water. Then clouds roll in and we get about 90 seconds of rain. The wind stills; the wind kicks.
It’s kind of fascinating.
I hear dogs and roosters, and see one of the local cats stroll down the steps off the patio.
BW’s up next for a dip in the pool. The sun’s out again, but the dip is very quick as the water, he reports, is freezing. It’s my guy’s birthday, sure to be a happy one here in Sorrento. But a birthday morning hug is off the table because he’s wet!
Kat and I have our very sweaty hour workout on the grass. The sun’s brilliant as we do our Bootcamp Boogie, and not a leaf stirs as we guzzle down water after.
She takes some time to walk about our pretty place, and I hit the showers. When I come up, it’s rained again, and the wind’s back. I think a good way for me to spend this fickle day is at the pretty kitchen table writing. We’re all spread out here, it seems, finding places to read or work or just sit and look. We have tomatoes and cheese and bread and other little snacks to get us through.
I make some good progress on the work into the afternoon. Feels very good, so I deserve a walk around as the day’s cleared again, then some time perched somewhere pretty to read.
I choose our bedroom terrace, read awhile, and half listen to the family vacationing next door. I hear the mother, the father, a young girl, what sounds like a teenage boy. They’re clearly Facetiming someone, or someones. American voices with lots to say. They talk, for awhile, to and about Sayid. I don’t hear Sayid answer, and now as I’m stretched out dozing or half dozing I’m wondering: Is Sayid a baby, a cat? And who is the young woman who talks from home? They’re clearly going somewhere as the mother will say they have to get ready to go, and goodbye. Other goodbyes, then someone will say something else, and a conversation begins again.
I drift in and out with their voices.
It’s lovely to come back to the surface to the blue plate of water and shadows of land in the distance.
As it’s BW’s birthday, he gets to choose the dinner arrangements. Instead of cooking, we’re walking down to one of the local restaurants–Kat’s checked, made sure they’re open on Sunday. We even make a reservation.
It’s a pretty walk, maybe a half a mile or a bit more. A steep walk, but so pretty. Vineyards rising up, spreading out, and some of the grapes are hanging fat and purple. Up higher a woman and two men work in theirs and call out a greeting as we walk. A lazy trio of dogs sleeping in the shade, an olive grove turning its landscape into that sun-washed silvery green. Flowers spilling, cats inside gates aloof to us, and to dogs that bark madly when we pass.
The air’s warm and sweet, the road steep and narrow. A couple of women chat with each other over their low garden wall.
And here’s the little market where we got–and will get more–supplies. Restaurants and old buildings and flowers and vines.
Our choice is down a kind of driveway where our waiter, cheerful as the sun, greets us. We settle on a table out on the covered patio, and are told we must have a small glass of prosecco–for chin-chin. We have many questions about the menu as it lists several pastas or dishes we’re not familiar with. Our delightful waiter (and only he and another delightful female server who I think is also a cook are on duty) does an admirable job of explaining, even using props. The woman brings out complimentary bruschetto even as we’re all trying to decide what we’ll eat.
We’re treated so warmly, welcomed so easily, and everyone knows which villa we’re staying in. It shows me small towns work the same way universally, and I find it charming.
Salads so fresh the ingredients had to be just picked. A bowl of minestroni for BW that’s the size of a vat. Lovely bread to dip, and all before the main. I have sea bass, beautifully prepared, and home-made fries. Another vat of soup–this time tomato-basil for Jason. We’ll have to come back again when I have room to try that. It comes with some toasted chunks of bread on the side. The woman insists Jason put the bread in the soup, break it up, she demonstrates and put it in. He’s game for that, but shortly she comes back, takes his spoon, pushes the bread under the soup. He should eat it properly!
A family comes in, and I swear the father especially looks just like my mental image of the neighboring dad. I wonder, as there is a mom, a little girl, an older boy–though not the teen I saw in my head–if this is indeed the family vacationing next-door.
We sit, we eat, we drink a really lovely house red. Our two servers stop by to make sure we have all we need–and for, I think, the woman to make certain Jason’s eating that soup properly. He can’t finish it, but we’ll take half the vat home for someone’s lunch. It’s a birthday, after all–Kat had an app on her phone for birthday candles BW can blow out–so we need dessert. Our waiter explains the display inside, and it all looks amazing. Still I want gelato. I ask for a ball of the lemon with a ball of the strawberry. Our woman server obviously considers this just wrong. I can have either, but not both together! LOL. So I have lemon, and it’s wonderful.
We’re gifted with a bottle of the house red before we leave. We walk home in the soft night with our container of soup, a bag of the bread and the wine. Flashlight apps on phones help light the way. Cats and dogs wander. There’s no doubt we’ll become very familiar with this route, and visit our friends at the restaurant again. And you really need that walk when you have all that fabulous food.
Home, and into pjs for me. We have Olympics on, Italian style. It’s fun to watch–and the women’s gymnastics are truly amazing–from the Italian pov. The stars are brilliant, the night warm. It’s midnight before I settle down to sleep.
This morning it’s still and warm. We’ll get that workout in, then put ourselves together for a drive into Sorrento. We need to change money–and we absolutely have to visit some of those shops, see the sites, have lunch somewhere pretty. I’m just not going to think of that wild, winding road up and back. BW handles Ireland fine–and that’s driving on the wrong side for us. So he should do fine here, too.
Hopefully, within the next day or so, our internet problems will be no more.
I’ll try to send this now–and hopefully the pictures also make the trip!
Note from Laura: BW, Kat and Jason figured out the lovely restaurant also had solid WiFi and uploaded photos while they were there. Below are a couple from the trip over to Sorrento.