The Little Pizzeria
May 2015
Our last day on Capri was probably my favorite, though most people might not fully understand why. It had rained most of the night and had all the inclinations of being a dreadful day weather-wise. Shannon and I had procrastinated in planning, mainly for the pure freedom of being able to change our minds if we fell in love with a place. Yet some aspects of a trip cannot be put off for forever.
The rain rested, allowing us dry passage into town. The day before we had eaten lunch at a little pizzeria located at the base of Monte Solaro. It had a cozy atmosphere and free Wi-Fi – perfect for our needs.
There were spurts of customers throughout the day followed by moments of calm. At first the owners – a family – appeared to wonder at why we were staying for so long. We had coffee in the morning. At noon we ordered lunch and in the afternoon we had wine and beer. As the day wore on, the employees relaxed and began to show their true nature. They joked around with each other and us.
At one point one of them was walking out with a Panini ready to be grilled. The head woman snatched it from him and pushed him towards the gelato counter, sarcastically scolding him for neglecting the waiting customers. He came back from the counter a few moments later, threw his hands up and said something (in Italian) to the effect of, “Why did you send me over there. They aren’t even buying, just looking, eh.” A huge smile was spread across his face so it was obvious he wasn’t truly upset.
I couldn’t help myself, I started laughing. They looked over at me and realized that even though I don’t speak Italian I had understood. Which led both of them to laugh even harder than they had been.
While deeply immersed in planning, a large group of tourists came into the café and took up all the remaining tables. One of them approached us and asked if she could take a picture….of us. Shannon and I stuttered, unsure of what to say, and allowed the woman to snap a shot of us. A second later one of her friends followed suit. Then they wanted a group shot with all the employees and us as well. By this point in the day we had developed a secret language with the employees that mainly consisted of knowing glances. We threw laughing grins at each other which said, “This is hilarious, I’m glad someone else is here to witness it.”
As five pm rolled around, the staff began to wipe down the counters and we packed our things. One of the employees glanced up at us and said in dismay, “Don’t go! Why are you leaving? Stay, stay!” Everyone laughed and we said our goodbyes.
Since it was our last night in Capri, we decided to go out for a nice dinner. The restaurant was a five minute stroll down the tiny road leading to Giovanni’s house. It had an expensive view and the food was superb. Neither Shannon nor I could decide which dish tasted better. Shannon had pasta with red sauce, shrimp, and asparagus. I had pasta with swordfish, mushrooms, and red sauce of a different variety.
We had two waiters. One of them was Jack Black…..I mean almost seriously. If Jack Black were playing an Italian waiter in a movie, he would have been our waiter. The other one had a really good time joking around with us, especially while we were savoring our dessert. He kept threatening to take it away from us because we were taking too long to eat it. Before we left, he invited us to meet him in Capri Town at a bar called Mister Billy’s.
His directions weren’t the best, as seemed to happen to us often in Italy. During our search we met two ladies from the states who also appeared lost. So we decided to team up and find some kind of bar. The first one we went to was dead, so we decided to ask the police for better options.
They stood around casually smoking cigarettes. One of the girls we were with asked them where the good night life was. He pointed at the bar we had just left and another with a cover charge of 30 euros. “No, no we mean a real disco like unst unst.” She began pumping her fist in the air as she spoke.
The officers laughed and said, “There are no unst unst bars here.”
“Yeah there are!” The girl insisted. “Kim Kardashian comes here to party! Where does she go?”
The first officer, Lucca, shook his head and asked who that was. The other officer, Pablo, looked at him with surprise, “Kim Kardashian! You don’t know Kim Kardashian.” He moved his hands in an hourglass shape as he spoke to indicate her voluptuous figure. When Lucca still didn’t know, Pablo whipped out his phone and googled a picture.
Lucca threw his hands up. “Ah! Kim Kardashian. Yes!” We all burst into laughter.
Mister Billy’s wasn’t a disco but it was a lot closer than the first place the officers suggested. Our bartender was a plump older woman with a stern brow, glasses, and a sly smile. She reminded me of my Babi (grandmother)…I think she would be a lot like this lady if she were a bartender. We were the only ones dancing and at one point Babi-the-bartender came out and began pumping her fists in the air with us. My sides hurt from laughing.
Eventually, we met up with Antonio, our waiter, but not wanting to miss the last bus, we left shortly after.
The walk from the station was lit by the occasional burst of lightning from across the sea. We stood and watched for a while, savoring our last night view of Capri. In the morning Giovanni drove us to the port in his little red van, and we set out for Sorrento.
