Our little Mediterranean Villaggio

Today we hung around locally. Trying to balance big fun with occasional quiet fun so the kids don't expect chairlifts and boat tours every day. This morning after breakfast we took a walk to the little market to get lunch stuff. Breakfast, by the way, in Italy is comprised of rolls, lousy muffin-like bread items, jam assortment, yucky cereal and room temperature milk. I think the message is that one's not really supposed to actually eat any breakfast, just have your espresso or cappuccino and be on your way since the meal you had the night before could still be in your stomach since you're not used to eating so many carbs.

Or maybe that's just for me.

Our hotel is situated in Marina della Lobra, which is within Massa Lubrense. It's the fishing port and it couldn't be more perfect for us. We're steps away from the water, the really small village, the market and some waterfront restaurants. Super authentic. Not really touristy. And right next to our hotel is the church, Santa Maria della Lobra. Bells go off now and then, sort of like the Muslim call to prayer. No real rhyme or reason, they ring. And it's nice.

We also have our own local monk that kind of shuffles in and out of our hotel. In full Franciscan regalia. Today I was all set to sneak a photo of him during our morning stroll. I even had the camera set at my hip for a sorta look-away shot but I got so busted! Not knowing anything about Catholicism I thought 'code of silence = code of no photographs'. And now I'm going to hell. But he yammered on in Italian and then posed for me with a big smile. I got all religious and tried to say 'God Bless!' in mumbled English. But I'm still probably going to hell.

Here's our walk down to the market and to the marina. This is where Scott and Colby were having one of their billion conservations (it's either car, plane, train or boat related) about the plane ride back to Brussels. Scott kept making Colby repeat his questions. Colby would ask, "What kind of plane will we fly from Maples to Brussels?" and "When we get to Maples, is it going to be hot again and crowded in the airport?" And then Colby caught on that Scott was trying so hard not to laugh about something. But the kid still says Maples instead of Naples.
Just. Can't. Correct. Him. Right. Now.

More of the walk down....without Maples.

Here's our market. Awesome friendly proprietor. Was so psyched that Scott speaks Italian he offers us a shot of limoncello every time we go in. (fyi, limoncello is this amazing lemon, sugary liqueur that on ice or really cold is quite tasty. But better without kids, tho. It packs a punch.)

Snack bar, hang-out. You can't see but above this, to the right, are the homes of the locals. Townhouse-y stucco structures. Fairly well-maintained. Always laundry hanging out to dry as dryers are considered superfluous since the fresh air can do the very same to wet clothes. And what one can often see are people just staring and leaning out their shuttered window. Like, culturally, it's okay to live in the moment. To just stop and look and ponder. You never really see folks do that in the US. The whole sense of time is dramatically different.....for better or for worse. Certainly makes it easy to get in the spirit of things when on vacation.

The Lido (I can't help but think of Boz Scaggs) part of our hotel. All's quiet at 10am. Scott and I were dying to figure out how we could leave the kids in our room after bedtime and sneak down here for a night cap. Open 'til 3am. Maia's trying to sneak a nap.

And the path back up to our hotel from the Lido.

(C'mon, how many times would you want to say lido?

Where you off to- the Lido?

Um, I'm going to the Lido. I don't know about you.

Didju see Silvio down at the Lido?

and it always has to be italicized.)

No comments:

Related Posts with Thumbnails