Getting Hangry in Sanremo

(Canon P/Ilford Delta 400)

‘Dolce far niente’ is an Italian expression which means ‘The sweetness of doing nothing’.  It goes hand in hand with ‘La Dolce Vita’, another expression meaning ‘The Sweet Life’.  On the surface it seems so simple: value a relaxed, peaceful state of living over material things. However, there are times when your ‘sweet life’ makes another’s not so sweet; I learned that first hand in Sanremo.

When I downshifted the little red Fiat right before entering the tunnel which leads into the centre of Sanremo, I was living my ‘sweet life’. The tiny three cylinder engine howled at 6,000rpm and a smile came to my face.  Doina, my travel wife, laughed at me from the passenger seat.  Svetlana, my travel girlfriend, was sleeping in the back.

‘La Pigna’, Sanremo

(Canon P/Ilford Delta 400)

45 minutes later I was NOT living the sweet life.  Not only had I had an incredibly vexing altercation with an Italian parking meter machine, I was now officially peckish.  Hunger, like sobriety, is not an affection that Doina, Svetlana, and I often experience when we holiday together.  Time to find a restaurant for a spot of lunch!

We were in the ‘La Pigna’ part of Sanremo. Originally built as a defense against Saracen raids, La Pigna is now a maze of alleys and stairs one can easily got lost in.  We had been exploring this area in search of a good local ‘ristorante’ where the ladies could get wine, I could get a Negroni, and we all could get fed!

Svetlana and Doina in ‘La Pigna’

Climbing up one of the steeper alleyways, we saw what must have been the most quintessential Italian restaurants.  Small, family owned, outdoor seating, and homemade pasta on tap!  Doina went in to see if we could secure a table.

At this point it was 13.30 (1.30pm).  Doina asked the waiter if we could have a table for three and he gave her the most incredulous look I have ever seen.  He was shocked, literally shocked, that we had the audacity to ask such a thing. They closed at 14.00 (2pm), and there was no way that we could be seated.

In Italy, restaurants close in the afternoon and reopen in the evening for dinner.  This would be criminal in America, but in Italy this is the time that the family who owns the restaurant sits down and has a meal with their staff.  Could you imagine the fucking apoplectic outrage if the Applebees in Fond du lac, Wisconsin closed from 2pm to 7pm so the workers could have a meal and a few glasses of wine?  

Also, in Italy, the closing time is the closing time.  They don’t stay late for anybody.  The way they see it, if closing is at 14.00 and you show up at 13.30, then they will have to rush the food and at that point…well, what is the point?

I think the Italians are right about this. Although I have only been to Milan, Florence, Venice, and Loano in Italy; I have NEVER had a crap meal there.  However, this was the first time that the cost of those good meals became apparent.  Yes, you can have consistently delicious dining experiences in Italy; but it is not the restaurant’s terms.  In Italy, the customer is NOT ‘always right’.

Now, I don’t want you to think that the three of us went without!  In the end, we managed to get a delicious meal and plenty of booze at ‘Cafe San Sci’ in the Piazza San Sanremesi.  How were we able to do this when every other restaurant was closed?  Easy, we went to a “tourist spot’!

Svetlana, Doina, and I tend to avoid restaurants that cater to tourists. You will find that these places tend to have horrid reviews, often citing ‘rude staff’.  I think this is largely overblown. If you act like an American/Russian/British(the worst)/French tourist (loud, arrogant, condescending) you can expect a lack of hospitality.  But, as we discovered at ‘Cafe San Sci’, if you are courteous and respectful you will receive great service.

The Promenade, Sanremo

(Canon P/Ilford Delta 400)

After our meal we took a lovely walk along the Sanremo promenade.  I managed to thwart a team of thieves interested in Doina and Svetlana’s handbags, and after that we jumped into the little red Fiat and zoomed off to Monaco.  As I got into the car I noticed the model, written on the side: ‘La Dolce Vita’.