Mangia! Mangia!

Tonight Amy, Paige, and I decided to dine at “40 Mil,” a restaurant enjoyed by the local Americans. It wasn’t very close to the house, so off we went, guided by the GPS.

This GPS thing usually works well.

We went in Joe’s car, a rattletrap Alfa Romeo which has only one serious flaw: the headlights are very dim. As in very.

After many miles down bumpy, narrow, and dark roads, we came to a neighborhood of walled properties with more bumpy, narrow, and dark roads. A turn, and another turn, and the GPS declared us to have arrived at our destination. In the middle of nowhere in particular.

Amy tried driving around a bit, hoping to find the restaurant somewhere nearby. We came to a street littered with large dogs in deep slumber, at least five of them. And this street was dirt. And dark.  She made a right hand turn and swung wide around a dog, who lifted his head just enough to acknowledge we were there.

The GPS was unimpressed with our attempts to find the restaurant and quit trying to help. It had taken us where we said we wanted to go, yes? We were on our own. After circling around twice, Amy just began driving. We might have stopped at the first restaurant we encountered, but unless the place has an English menu, it’s pretty hard to know what you’re ordering. Remember this. It will be important later.

I may not have made clear before just how manic the roads are here. Scooters and motorcycles are free to weave in and out of traffic and their riders frequently do insane things like pass cars, then make immediate right-hand turns; stop signs make suggestions, not demands; and pedestrians cross the streets in front of moving vehicles and wander the margins of the roads as if they’re invincible. So as we sped along the bumpy, narrow, dark roads in a vehicle with substandard lighting, I was, shall we say, a little tense. Eventually we came to a more populated area, and Amy made the decision to head home.

Near the house, we passed a local restaurant, still brilliantly lit even though it was nearly 11 pm. We hadn’t even had lunch, so yes, we were a little hungry. We decided to try it.

Of course no one in the restaurant spoke English.  So once again, Amy and the woman (wish I’d gotten her name; Paige calls her Pretty Pink Earrings) negotiated an order through pointing and nodding and smiling. PPE was very patient with us. She tended to repeat herself (as if that would make us better understand!). While we weren’t 100% certain what we had ordered, we got plates and plates and plates of antipasto (including fried calamari, bruschetta, salmon and sardines, arugula, and some sort of dough balls), two pizzas, and a tomatoey pasta dish. This was followed up with tiny lemon icees (not limoncello; Amy thinks this is probably because we didn’t order wine).  

So after two hours (at least) of driving, we had an adventurous mystery meal right around the corner. Isn’t exploring grand?  Mangia!

Adventure occurred the evening of Tuesday, July 19.