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We arrived at the castle. Literally, a Castle. But we'll get to that in a bit. The town is one of those hilly ancient picturesque beauties that makes you wonder why you don't live like this. Because it's expensive and the rooms are small and it's another country and they speak a different language? Perhaps.
We were not staying at the castle with the cool kids. We would be going elsewhere, but had to wait for our ride: Sara’s sister and husband, my BiL, sole remaining BiL of the original three. They were coming from Milan. First we went to a small cafe where old Italian men were sitting around being old Italian men, smoking and arguing and laughing. Then a stroll around the ancient village. Some history:
Located in an area already widely inhabited during the Roman Empire, today’s historic center of Petritoli was formed during the early Middle Ages, when, through the work of various monastic orders, particularly the Farfensians, the union of three previous villages, Petrosa, Petrania and Petrollavia, occurred.
This process, completed in the 11th century, gave rise to a castle of great strategic importance, having wide administrative autonomy over the surrounding territory, under the direct protection of the Holy See.
Then things happened and then a lot more things happened.
Found a grocery store for provisions, and had a hilarious language barrier issue. I wanted eggs. Couldn’t find them. Couldn’t get sufficient cell signal to give me the right word, but I figured any Latin-based word would do. To the aged and cheerful clerk; huevous? Oeufs? She shook her head. No idea. I pantomimed a chicken, then an object falling out from the chicken, which was me, and then I took the imaginary object and cracked it on an imaginary bowl. No idea. Ah! AH! There was a rack of Kinder eggs. I picked one up and said "Ma Pollo, vero." As far as I could tell she started saying no, no, chocolate, bambino something.
GAH
I went outside, stood on my tiptoes to get signal, googled the word
It was uovo
Went back, said UOVO PER PIACERE, and she smiled and waddled me over to the spot where they kept the eggs. For Cripe's sake.
We got our ride around 6ish, and pulled into our AirBnB nestled in the hills, and oy gevalt, what a spread. We had the top floor with Tim & Lisa, and later Stephen and Lauren. So this was going to be just fine.
At eight, back to the castle for dinner, and I will omit 45 minutes of avoidable botheration compounded by indecision. Let’s just say we ended up going elsewhere. Down the road. By which I mean the winding highway with no shoulder. In the dusk. This seemed unwise; the vehicle was fetched and we found the place five minutes later. Straight out of the Eric Idle Travel Agent Rant scene.
Fluorescent lights. Unchanged since 1962, I’m sure.
It was all fine, and cheap. The cost for five was half the bill for three of us in Rome. Not as good, of course - no, not of course, it doesn’t necessarily follow. The wine wasn’t as good but it was included in the price of, well, everything, a bottle of red (chilled!) And white, local, rough, engaging. We managed to find our way back down small unlit roads, then hit the hay. The thumb and forefinger of Morpheus gently pressed on the guttering wick, and we were out.
NEXT: The Other Side of Italy
By the way, I forgot to add this yesterday, which means there's not only Lucre today, there's Motels.
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