Relaxed

Today was a functional day, spent just relaxing, reading, writing and generally taking a break from death marches and gelato consumption. I got up relatively late, and went out for what the Italians call an “American” breakfast, which is to genuine American breakfasts what Olive Garden is to genuine Italian dinners.

Kind of a travesty, but delicious. At least they used actual bacon rather than just frying up some prosciutto.

Then I meandered around the city, looking for replacements for my beloved Florentine leather skate shoes. Sadly every store was either selling formal brogues, those douchey leather slip-on loafers that Italians seem to love so much, or big over-engineered sneakers in eye-raping colours. The old school Italian shoes I want are not wanted by the men of Liguria. But I found an OVS, so I felt honour-bound to buy a couple of work shirts

On my way home I picked up a panini for lunch, and spent a pleasant afternoon in my hotel room with the french doors to the balcony open, letting in the thrum of the city and the fresh sea air, eating my sandwich and drinking that excellent 2.5 euro Tuscan wine I bought a couple of days ago, writing blog posts, editing photos, listening to music and chilling.

And then it was my favourite time of day; the Aperitivo Hour! I tried to go back to NoMad but it’s Saturday night and the streets were packed, and it was full of customers. So I went to a less popular bar next door, Karma, and discovered that its lesser popularity is completely undeserved. I had a brilliant smoked tequila margarita, with the same basic ingredients as a standard margarita plus freya smoke, which made the flavours incredibly nuanced. And the snacks were next level; just to confirm, all of this was built into the price of the cocktail, which was only 9 euros.

Encouraged by the deliciousness of the first cocktail, I decided to order another. It was a fascinating mix of cherry and basil liqueurs, rosso vermouth, soda, bitters and a dash of cranberry. It was so well-balanced that I needed to concentrate to pick out the individual flavours, but they were all definitely there. It was fruity and floral but not as sweet as I’d feared it might be.

Along with the new cocktail, my waitress asked if I wanted another platter of snacks. “Si, grazie”, I said, in a small shamed voice. But hey, it was dinner.

On my way out I made sure to congratulate and thank the bartender, a hip black guy with mini-dreads, who I’d determined was the creator of these cocktails. He didn’t speak English but he seemed to understand my praise and was happy.