Earthquakes and Surfquakes

Wednesday, July 4

A rooster woke me up in the middle of a funny dream. Mel, Steve, Tony and I were in downtown Rome. A casting agent for Qunentin Tarantino saw us and asked if we would play the part of a band, similar to The Yardbirds in Blow Up. Our scene is stylishly shot, lit from below our shadows project up onto the walls of ancient building, we're wearing sunglasses, even though it's nighttime. We just mime along to some 60s song. Taranttino's script has something to with the mafia, and I get to watch the next scene on the video monitor. Mel is dressed in his Rabbi costume (with shorts), driving a golf cart and firing at pistol at a criminal, also zipping along in a golf cart ahead of him, through the streets of Rome at night.

Making less sense than that, the manager of the B&B asks 30€ for the small load of laundry we asked her to do. We offer 15, and don't negotiate. 30€ is about $40, that seems a bit much for one basket of laundry, no? Despite the beauty of Masseria Ospitale, I can't recommend it. The regular room rate is 90€, there's no AC and the breakfast small. The stone walls really retain heat, and then there's that rooster. Lecce was pretty cool, though, and it's interesting to think that Albania is only 40 miles away; I wonder if there if ferry service.

It's a long but beautiful drive up the east coast. The Adriatic seems to get bluer the farther north we go. At Pescara, we turn inland and up. The map says that L'Aquilla is at 10,000 feet, but it turns out that is the heights of the surrounding mountain ranges. The weather gets much cooler as we climb, and the highlight is a 10km tunnel. In America they would just blast the whole thing to smithereens. The Aabruzzo mountains are breathtaking, these are the tallest peaks in Italy south of the Alps.k

Our hotel Albergo Osteria, is about 20 minutes outside of L'Aquilla. It's the kind of place that looks really attractive in the brochure and says, "Just a short walk from town" and you book it, and wow, did you make a mistake.. We've all been there. It really is a good place, built since the earthquake in 2009, and we have a car so it's fine.
"Jane" misunderstands our directions, substituting a nearby town that has the same name as the street we are looking for. So, on the way to the club, she takes us a lovely tour of the countryside, and some towns that time forgot. Looks like the last Americans here were soldiers, as there are fallen hero memorials in the town center.
The Corner Bar isn't on a corner, but looks like a roadhouse in Texas, the walls covered with U.S. license plates. We are playing out doors under an awning near the parking lot. Collectively, our blood sugar is near zero, and when two 4 foot long pizzas are delivered, they disappear immediately. For the first time ever, I've seen (and swallowed) a hot dog pizza. It's a crazy night, there are lots of laughs, but nothing particular funny, just strange. Still, it's a nice sized and enthusiastic crowd.
Sorry for the delayed post, we have been without Internet for 2 days.




Thursday, July 5

After cappuccinos and pastries at the hotel, we decide to go to L'Aquilla Centrale. L'Aquilla and the surrounding area was hit with a bad earthquake in 2009. As we drive around town, we see many piles of rock that were once buildings. The earthquake was devastating to the region, clearly this had once been a thriving economy, as there are many high end shops that are boarded over. There are many poignant reminders of the quake– the stairs down to the entrance of the subway have been covered with hand crocheted weavings, room keys to an old apartment building hang on a chain link fence, the residents not allowed to return to their homes. There are more obvious signs too, like scaffolding, braces holding up arched doorways, and empty spaces between building where another had stood. It seems like some rebuilding is going on, but mostly, buildings that survived are braced and still in use, or shuttered and abandoned. It would take an incredible infusion of money to return the city center to its pre-quake state. At this point, L'Aquilla is being held together with bandaids and cable ties.

 

Our caravan makes small steps toward Pescara, first a stop at a major grocery store. I'm not ashamed to admit that I picked up jars of peanut butter and jelly. I love the food here, but man (this man, anyway) cannot exist on pizza, salted pork, cheese and bread. While the food has been generally excellent, it's not very adventurous. Are PB&Js adventurous? No, but my palette needs some variation, if only to appreciate the native flavors more.

Theres a playground next to the road out of town and we pull over for a picnic. This isn't notable except that I find an weathered message board that still has notices tacked to it about finding lost family members, meeting places, and community relief efforts. Aftershocks of the quake still resonate.

Lorenzo chooses not to take the highway, so we take a two lane on top of the high plateau and avoid the long tunnel. We pass towns built into the mountain side so weathered and off beat, they look like they still are hoping for running water. And, even 50km away from L'Aquilla, there are buildings reduced to rubble.

It's only a 2 hour drive to Pescara, the next few days will all be short drives. Pescara is obviously a beach resort town, as we pass only hotels and B£Bs coming into town. Sorry, I don't know the name of the place I'm staying, but is a big, recently refurbished apartment, filled with Ikea furnishings. We are probably among the first guests to say here.

The Ippocampo Beach Club sits right on the sand next to the Adriatic. It's a family style resort with colorful umbrellas over chaise lounges, volleyball and soccer for the kids, sunburned little children watched by weathered nonnas while the parents drink cocktails. Theres also an outdoor restaurant, a snack bar and several bar stations. Closer to the road is a small covered stage with a sandy area in front of it.

 

Paolo, the local promoter, instructs us to set up and have a bite, pizza as usual. It all seems very casual. Our bands are supposed to play between 8 and 10, with the chance to go a little later. There's a Jazz festival across the street, so that's why we have to start and finish early.

A nice size crowd is there when Frankie starts, that's a good sign. In America, when a club is empty early, it stays empty. That's definitely not the case here as crowds come late. But, if the show starts out with a crowd, it will only get better. There's even some dancing, something we haven't yet seen in Italy.

The TMen don't even bother with any costume beyond band T shirts, it's way too hot and humid for the plastic pants, vests and my helmet. The crowd seems to really like us, and continues to grow. The temperature drops about 10 degrees during our sunset set, and it's very nice now.

By the time Meshugga comes on, the sandy area in front of the stage is crowded and the audience primed. The dancing starts as soon as the MBP kicks off their regular opening number, "If I Were a Rich Man". It's a frenzy for the next 35 minutes, until Paolo tells the band to take a break; the Jazz concert is staring across the street. He now thinks that the bands will be able to play a little past 10:30.

 

Paolo has a table set up for 8 on the outdoor restaurant deck. It takes a little while to get menus but we aren't in a rush. It's all seafood, a delightful change from pizza and bread. Danny and Stuart both order the shrimp scampi in cognac sauce, but as it is a secondi dish, it comes without pasta, just six full shrimp staring up at them on a plate, heads, claws and all. Karen ordered the fish, but we are unable to figure out what kind of fish it is; perhaps a small branzino, with black olives in a rosemary, parsley butter sauce. I had a rissotto with fruiti de mar, including baby clams, mussels, shrimp and lots of butter. This is the first time I can really taste garlic as a spice. Tony's dish had the same seafood selections as mine, but over linguini. Steve ordered a gnocchi dish with baby shrimp. I don't know if it's the local style, but everything was drenched in butter. Unfamiliar as we are with the wine list we ask the waiter for a red (Tenuta S. Raffaelle) and a white (Villa Regis), and both bottles are from grapes from the local Abruzzo region.

 

Surf Music Frenzy!

While we eat, a DJ spins surf oldies, mixed with Laika and the Cosmonauts, Satan's Pilgrims and the Ghastly Ones. Meshugga returns to the stage at 11:15 and the frenzy resumes. The dancing is non-stop, until they finish up with Hava Nagila. Nobody moves as Lorenzo comes to the stage, and in various combinations of Pool Boys, TMen and Meshuggeners, we trade instruments and play all the surf classics we know. It's a wild ascent, a real surf dance party right on the beach. The crowd is having a blast and eating it up. This is the kind of situation that surf musicians dream about. After about 12 classics, we close with "Hot Doggin" and the lights are turned off. It's 1:30, way past the expected end time, and we are exhausted.

Special attenzione is given to our meal tonight as a courtesy to my friend Lynda, author of the excellent Taste Food blog. And thanks to ace proofreader Karen for finer details lost on my caveman taste buds.