Pizza Taxi

The first night we ventured into Arco Felice, a suburb of Pozzuoli (yes, that megalopolis Pozzuoli has suburbs!) the streets seemed familiar from our visit in August, however, not familiar enough that we felt totally at ease. The jetlag was in full affect and we didn’t have a hankering to go out till later on in the evening. We were looking for something to eat, and being tired of airplane fare and airport snacks we were really looking forward to some of that famous vera pizza Napoletana. We walked past an alley, the entrance of which sloped down into darkness. In the back though, a light shone, and we read a sign that read “Pizza Taxi”. I pointed it out to The Bean and asked, “Want to eat there?” She sucked a breath in between her clenched teeth, paused and just shook her head. So we moved on to “Bob Clare” that was in the adjacent building. From the window we could see chickens dancing over coals on a rotisserie, and spied ovens to the right of them. We walked in and asked if they made pizzas.

“No, but my son does down the alley just to the side.” came the response.

Bolstered by the fact that Taxi was a family joint we went down the alley. The inside has seating for a total of 2 at a bench that faces a wall. To the right 3 young guys were chatting in front of a proper wood-burning oven. It took some time before they cared to pay attention to us. We ordered 2 Margherita pizzas, one with black olives for The Bean and 2 bottles of Peroni and the boys went to work. In no time the pizzas came out of the oven, cheese bubbling, crusts highlighted with charred patches. The Bean’s briny olives glistened like eyeballs, winking provocatively, begging to have their hot pulp sucked off their pits. We sat down in the adjacent room that has 3 benches, the only heat coming from the steaming pies. The Bean let out a moan of pleasure as she mouthed her first piece, her eyes rolling in their sockets. Who knew we could buy our way into heaven for only 8 Euros? That night The Bean wasn’t up for sex, she said it was the jetlag, but I know it was the pizza.

- Cris

Walk With Me

Come and accompany me on my way from home to work. Don't worry, it's only about 35 minutes or so door to door. Besides, it's nice out and what have you got to do anyway?

Here's a map so you don't get lost. I don't need to tell you that we're starting at 1 do I?

1. Out the door we go. Take a mandarin for the road!

2. A nice warm up, up the hill.

3. Ahh the sun is rising and the sky is clear. Should be a nice walk.

4. Piazza Italia on the right, lets hope the construction is done soon.

5. That's the bay of Pozzuoli.

6. Ships are becoming more common in the harbour these days.

7. The opening of the new yellow post office is the talk of the town!

8. Arco Felice's main piazza, not much to look at and it's a good thing 'cause crossing can be a bitch, watch out for the cars.

9. All hills here man, great for the ass!

10. The entrance to "Olivietti". They didn't see fit to add the CNR (where I work) to the sign.

11. It's nice here in Olivietti.

12. That's my building in red. My molecular biology lab's balcony is just under that pine tree there on the top floor.

Happy Birthday Alessandro!

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday dear Alex!

Happy Birthday to you!

Pozzuolaraoke

Radmad created a monster
And now it’s been unleashed upon Pozzuoli

After the proprietors of the local bar mentioned
Weekly karaoke nights
Regret has been taken to a new level

I need to find me A Whole Lotta Rosie

- Cris

Women Make Men Feel Like Men

Nothing makes you feel like an a real Italian man more than coming home after an easy day in the lab to find your woman making gnocchi in the kitchen, the table set and a bottle of red wine breathing.

OK, so there wasn’t enough vino left for me, and then she sent me out to get more….

- Cris

First Dinner

Sadly, we just had to eat before we managed to get any plates. However, all you really need is a pot to boil pasta in and one to make the sauce. The result was a “Lady and the Tramp” moment… The logical desert; Nutella and “Croccante” cookies, no plates required!

- Cris and The Bean

Morning at La Columbina

I don't know how long we slept. With the shutters to the only window closed I wasn't even sure what time of day it was. Time doesn't seem to matter at La Columbina because there isn't a clock in the room. I guess I should have checked my watch, but I've just started wearing it again after years of it resting in my desk drawer. To be honest, I'm still not convinced it remembers how to tell time and I am constantly checking it against reliable sources. Our room is a little box attached to the side of the main house, it's back dug into a hill with lemon and mandarin trees growing on it. It opens up directly onto the patio/driveway which is an all in one deal. As I opened up the door I went blind for the few seconds it took my eyes to adjust to the light. It was morning, and I managed to catch the sunrise shining over the Bay of Pozzuoli and onto Monte Nuovo.
-Cris