This Is It

Our last day in town didn’t leave much for down time. We got up pretty early and got going. Our first stop was a visit to the market. We had several vendors that we would like to thank for their services, but there was one who went above and beyond every time. I have written about Nicola (he gave us the can of olive oil) and we knew we wanted to make one last stop to see him. We went and he was in his usual place being helpful to other customers. We waited patiently as he finished and turned his attention to us. He knew from recent discussions that we were not here to make a purchase today. In fact, we were dropping off something for him. When we were packing to come, there were a couple of things we brought just in case the weather turned unexpectedly cold. One being a winter hat. It was brand new and made for a good throwaway item, in that I would not need to bring it home with me. I would be able to throw it away, donate it, or give it away should it remain unworn. Luckily, the weather never warranted me needing the hat, so when we were starting our packing this week I ran across the hat and instead of putting it in the pile to donate, we saw the opportunity to pass it on to a gentleman who has worn a winter hat every single day that we have seen him...(of course) until the very last time we see him and take a photo with him. He appreciated the gift as much as we were appreciative of his friendship during our time here. Thanks again, Nicola.

i just saw this photo for the first time and didn't realize felice, a guy who never once sold us anything, jumped into the shot. Nicola, on the other hand, is front and center

Yesterday we made a return trip to our favorite meal in the city. Today we made a return to our favorite meal #2. It is a ramen shop that was every bit as good as any we have ever had. In a scene directly from a Tokyo ramen shop the chef works at a countertop where he is constantly kneading, rolling, cutting, and stretching the dough. He rolls each hunk of raw dough exactly the same ending with an identical 8 times doubling over that transforms the single snake into 256 strands of spaghetti thin needles that he cuts the end off of to release each noodle from each other. He tosses the bunch into the boiling water and prepares the bowl for the order to wait until the noodles are cooked. It was wonderful. Just as we remembered it. 
Next, we headed to Bar Piccolo for one (or two) last beers. El doesn’t usually go to Piccolo with me, so she was able to experience some of my stories first hand. At three in the afternoon, it was considerably quieter than it can get in the evening. She saw a good sampling of who I see everytime I go. Alessio, my favorite bartender, was on, a couple of my regular characters were there, and some new faces. I am pretty sure as I spoke to Alessio, the other guy standing at the bar was trying to pick up my wife. Harmless, since I knew she was coming home with me. I did have a funny moment with him though. At some point El walked away (to go to the bakery next door) and this guy, Giuseppe, started speaking to me in Italian. I am able to pick up a couple of words and I reply “no, no, not at all, nope.”

He doesn’t speak English, but he understands “no”. But with the amount of times I stressed it, a look of disappointment washes over his face. Almost repulsed. I know I need to get this figured out. I asked Alessio, "what did he say?" Alessio says ”he asked if you like Bari!” Obviously, my Italian needs some work. I whipped out my Google Translate and spoke into my phone “I thought you asked me if I speak Italian”, holding the screen up for him hopefully to find the humor in this situation. He does, but simultaneously is completely stunned by the function of my phone to translate my speech to words he can understand. At this moment El returns and gives him a one on one tutorial on installing and using the app on his phone. I go back to Alessio. I was able to put together a little bag for him. Some items that we had amassed in Bari and didn’t want to just throw them out if anyone could use any of it. I told him not to open the bag until he was home, but he was incredibly appreciative at the gesture. He refused to take my money for beer and when I refused to take it back, the money was used to buy a round for a couple of the regulars who, for free beer, wish I would leave everyday. A final round of goodbyes and we head back to the apartment to cook and prepare a picnic lunch for the six hour train ride tomorrow. 

Around 8pm, I got a message that Katrina was leaving her apartment to meet us at the corner for our last night out on the town. We went to our most local casual bar/restaurant called the Pharmacy. I happened upon this place last month during a spell where I had to be out of the apartment, but only for a short time that didn't warrant going all the way to Piccolo. I had a beer and thought El and I could try it out together. We did, and this was the first place I fell in love with spaghetti all’assassina. We had come back a few times including when Roberta was visiting and now, with Katrina as when we were discussing places to go, her eyes lit up at the prospect of all’assassina for dinner. It was decided and we met on the street to walk up together. We couldn’t have asked for a better last evening. Discussing everything from our families to future travel plans and dreams. Until the next time we meet her, perhaps on New York time.