Positano again
Back to Positano again; Chloe bought some pants yesterday, they needed to be shortened, and we went to pick them up.
I think those are some seriously cool pants, but it doesn’t really bother me that they don’t come in my size.
Go to town, eat lunch. What else would you do? We peeked and poked at a number of eateries, and settled on the Hotel Palazzo, a very snazzy establishment with a lovely outdoor dining area.
I’ve never passed up pasta al pesto in my live, and surely wasn’t going to start here.
I’m accustomed to the flat-leaf basil, and indeed that is what we have mostly had here. But there is apparently another variety, this curly leaf stuff. It tastes much more minty that one is accustomed to. This is something the restaurant grows onsite in its excellent gardens.
The gardens are more extensive than just basil:
The thyme is grown in sculpture:
My aunt Mildred, considered the best cook in the family, made her spaghetti with clams with canned clams and people still loved it. They use the real thing here, which looks great although Gail thought the clams too “clammy”.
Diet Coke is called Coke Light in Europe, but it’s still my drink of choice:
A tourist town invariably has art galleries, and most of the time you get to look at kitschy junk. Positano, though, has some galleries with serious, high-quality pieces we would be proud to own. This is the one I liked enough to ask the price:
Who wouldn’t want a sculpture of a naked fat lady on top of a zebra striped elephant? Gail and I both wanted to take this one home, but it was €9,100, or about $11,800. It’s still there if you are interested, that’s way out of our budget.
Gail doesn’t care for “souvenirs”, but it’s OK to bring home a “remembrance”. My remembrance is these new shoes Gail saw in a window:
That was enough fun for one day. The drive back went faster with my fancy new driving shoes, and we were home in time for an online bridge tournament and a nap. I’d hate to miss my nap. Dinner was at home, and we enjoyed an enormous thunder and lightning storm over the Mediterranean while we ate tomatoes and cheese and rigatoni and crusty Italian bread. Life is good.