Sunday, July 8, 2012

Of course the restaurants are closed, it's lunch time.

July 7, 2012

Gabrielle, the butcher of San Salvo
 

The first stop this morning happens less than a minute after we leave the hotel, at the supermarket next door. We just had breakfast, but need to pick up lunch items. As Karen and I are walking by the butcher, a small woman commands our attention. She offers up a sample of porshetta, a slow cooked pig. I know it's a pig because it's decapitated head is on the cutting board. It's so juicy and delicious, and Gabrielle is quite a salesperson. We buy a pound to share for lunch.

Pineto is about an hour north, the last in our trifecta of Adriatic beach towns. As soon as we enter the town, we meet Manolo, the promoter of tonight's show. He's on an old cruiser style bicycle and asks us to follow him. To get the beach area, you have to cross under the railroad tracks, the first tunnel is too low for the van, so Manolo leads us another 1/2 mile down the road to a newer tunnel. The Hotel Felicioni is right on the beach and has a pool.

 

Manolo leads the way

Since we arrived so early, we have a full five hours of free time. Lunch by the pool is a priority and the pig is first to go, paired with a foccacine, a round, moist Italian bread with a hole in the center. After that, we all split up and go different directions, but it's a small town, so we keep bumping in to each other.

Karen and I go to the beach, but Stu is already lounging under an umbrella in the Hotel Felicioni's private section. We park our towels with him, and wade out in the water for an hour. The water is such a pleasant temperature, the bottom smooth and shallow. When we get out, I ask Stu to tell me his life story, it's pretty damn rich, what a guy. We figure out the reason he's in Italy is that he answered an ad on CraigsList eight years ago to join The Aquamarines, and that started his return to drumming and his involvement with surf music. That's how life works.

 

Danny and Tony in the pool

Mel walks up looking like the quintessential American tourist– aloha shirt, straw hat, slathered in sun screen. We are from California and the whitest people around. Danny and Tony stroll up after a bit.

Karen and I split of again to walk around Pineto, which is easily completed in less than an hour. There's not much to it, a beach resort town, it looks like it has been built up since the 60s. It nice and clean, and there's lots of shops, but as is the Italian way, most are still closed in the late afternoon. There's a huge wedding going on at the church downtown, I can't imagine wearing a tux or suit in this heat. We run into Mel again.

 

Your faithful blogger

We meet in the lobby at 7; we can walk to the club, but Lorenzo has to drive the van. The Pineto Beach Paradise is a basically a hut bar surrounded by an acre of open space with palm trees. There's vintage VW combis and bugs parked about for atmosphere. The pallette stage backs up to the train tracks, and every 15 minutes the local thunders by. You know our drill by now: set up, sound check and eat. The menu tonight is panchettas and lamb skewers.

We don't start until 11, so we have time to walk back to the down town area for a gelato. At this time of night, the main street is closed to cars and full of pedestrians. A teenage Metal band is playing, it looks like one of the kid's mom is playing drums.

By the time we get back to the Beach Paradise, all the tables are filled. Its turned into a lovely, clear, evening with a nice breeze. But, sadly, tonight we will be nothing more than background music for the conversations at the tables.

 

1 comment:

  1. Sorry for the grammatical and factual errors in this one, I didn't have it proofread before I posted. We had bruschetta, not pancetta with the lamb skewers. -fd

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