Sorrento - At least the food's good.

  Sorrento, Italy
Wednesday, June 7, 2006

Between the rain and sleeping in, we pretty much lost today. Since we'd been so wired last night, we didn't get up until past eleven today (displeasing the maid), and did not venture out for "breakfast" until past noon. We were going to return to Moonlight for more of the excellent fruit, but they were closed today. As was most of Sorrento. We can understand not being open Saturday or Sunday, and we could even get used to the Monday closures, but Tuesday?

We ended up in something called a "Tourist Bar," (strictly because it was open and close), and ordered hamburgers with cheese and fries. It turned out, they made a cheeseburger on a baguette and put french fries on it. On the cheeseburger. It was actually pretty good, the fries especially - after we picked them off, but what would compel somebody to do that? We've also heard from other travellers of fries on pizza and in gyros. This is not the native food of Americans. It makes Americans go "por que?" The cappuccino was also so mild I ordered another shot of espresso to dump in it, then split it with Sarah as I definitely do not need two shots of espresso first thing. It was also the only place so far we've heard "traditional" Italian music being played. In the shiny chrome setting, it was positively grating.

After that, it was sprinkling a bit, but we went ahead and caught the train for Pompei (after an hour long adventure finding the train station in Sant'Agnello). By the time we get to Pompei, it was pouring, so we filter with the other tourists into the bar in the tiny station (the only thing around), and manage to look so cold and forlorn that the proprietor cleans off a storage table for us to use even though previously he had been saying that he was full. We hang out and have more coffee (and a pretty bad pastry), and wait for the rain to let up. It does no such thing, so eventually we give up and go to Sorrento, instead, to look for the laundromat.



In Sorrento, it's pretty much sunny and clear and crawling with shopping tourists. We get pointed on the right track to the laundromat, and on the way, we stop to take a picture of the ocean. When we turn back around, there's a guy standing there. He says "Ciao." We say "Ciao," (he's cute) and stare expectantly at him, waiting to see what he needed. He stares. We stare. When we realize he's totally surprised that we answered him and has no idea what to say now, we bust up laughing at him, even though he's standing right there. So he says "It's a nice day, isn't it?" I say, "It's been raining all day. Do you know where the laundry is?" He says, "But it's stopped now, so you can have a beautiful time for the rest of your visit." Sarah says, "Thank you. That's very nice. Do you know where there's a laundry around here?" Poor guy. I told Sarah later that it's about what would happen if I tried to start a conversation in Italian.

After I'd been here a couple of weeks and realized that almost all of the words I'd picked up were nouns or prepositions, I started making a list of ten new vocabulary sets or grammatical operations to learn every day. One of these has been methods of discussing weather using the null subject. So every day, I make it a point to make a note of the weather in Italian. For example, today was, "Fa piaggio," or, "It is raining." I wondered if that guy was doing the same thing for English. (I also make it a point to throw in a totally random word every day, so now I know how to say "He is poisoning the goose," in addition to "Where is the train station?" I blame David Sedaris.)



But by the time we got back to Sant'Agnello to get the laundry, there was no longer any time. So we hung out and did nothing for an hour, then went to dinner, to attempt the four course meal again at a different restaurant. This time, we each had a salad and first course, but split the second course and dessert and made it through. I had some excellent ravioli for mine, some mediocre fruit, and we split a plate of rabbit. Mostly because I wanted to try it. It's not really good. It's eatable. I think it might be good in a stew or something. And it does sort of taste like chicken.

After dinner when Sarah went to start getting ready for bed (we're thinking of trying Pompei first thing tomorrow morning), a girl approached me in the lobby. "Um. We've locked our keys in the room." In this place, that is extremely easy to do. I managed to do it within five minutes of getting the keys the first day, since here the door automatically locks, even if you'd just keyed it open. So I understood the problem, just not exactly why she was asking me. We went outside and she showed me her window and asked if I thought someone could climb up to it. So we stacked a table and a chair on top of each other and took turns scrambling up on top. In my professional opinion, however, I told her that since the only thing to stand on was some tiles sticking out of the building with no underlying support, we stood a chance of breaking them, even if I did manage to pull myself straight up. And if we fetched someone taller, they'd most likely be heavier than me, too.

So then we tried plan B, "find the spare key." Since I'd already locked myself out once, I vaguely remembered he'd reached in a specific drawer under the desk and pulled out a master key. Well, we manage to get the drawer unlocked only to find it contains about forty sets of keys. Eventually I find the one I think it is, it works, she and her boyfriend go to bed, and I start putting all the keys back, as far as I can recall in the exact places I found them. As I'm doing this, other guests of the convent start unlatching the front door. Since it would not look that good to be found rummaging around in the drawer with the master keys and all the money, I drop the keys in a mess on the desk, run out to the lobby, and plop down with a book just as they're opening the door. As soon as they're gone, I go back to continue with the process, and hear more guests coming. This repeats two or three times until I can manage to get everything put away and the drawer locked up again. (Still not sure it's right, but if all the money's there, I don't think there will be a fuss.) The guy using the internet was greatly amused by my running back and forth.

I'm still a little confused on why the girl asked me. Because I spoke English? Because I looked like I wouldn't laugh at her? Because I looked marginally competent? Because she saw Sarah and I exploring every niche of the convent last night? It will probably remain a mystery. I'm just that girl you ask when you want to break into something.