What a difference a bottle of chianti makes.

And I don't even really like chianti. Until now.

Ok, so. I went searching for this restaurant earlier and I got hungrier and hungrier... when I didn't find it (because it wasn't where they said it was), I opted to go back to the hotel and eat at the place that I meant to eat at the first night, il Monte Bianco, little pizzeria.

I accidentally ordered an entire bottle of chianti. I was pretty much empty stomached, and that stuff went directly to whatever pleasure centers alcohol activates (yes, I am supposed to know what pleasure centers those are), and I ate.

First, though, understand that the green salad I ordered was 10 cucumbers (WHOA THOSE THINGS ARE GROSS!), 5 black olives, and a light layer of Taco Bell style lettuce shreds. I salted the ridiculous plate. Salt came from that shaker as if Moses had commanded it to. Then I peppered it. Almost no pepper came out. Repeat those last three statements and substitute vinegar for salt and oil for pepper. That's right. I had a vinegar soaked plate of salty olives, cucumbers (YES, THAT'S RIGHT! CUCUMBERS ARE NASTY! I EVEN ATE ONE OF THESE TO REASSURE MYSELF THAT I DIDN'T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH THEM!) and lettuce shreds. Tasty!

But then... then came out a perfectly sized pizza-for-one, a steaming, flat round of cheese and crust with salami and ham (yeah, I had hoped it was like Canadian bacon ham, but it so wasn't), waiting to get in my belleh. In it went, and it was soooo appreciated.

The waiter/owner/member of the family/whoevsthedudewas struck up a conversation, asking me where I was from and where I was going. And now that I think about it, it's the first time I've really talked to anyone since I've been here. I was the only patron in the place, but it seems like they do a pretty brisk business with their delivery scooter, as the delivery guy was constantly running in and out the door.

Hm, anyway, resisting all but one temptation to drunk dial via Skype (Sissy, DAMN it), I shall now off to sleep, hoping that my pathetic attempt at laundry dries by morning (and it so completely won't). I could have sworn that I brought more socks and underwear... alas, the lack of such articles in my "clean clothes" bag is quite unavoidable, and leads me to believe that the airplane gnomes messed with my stuff.