Italy: Pescara Day Off

Tuesday, April 7, 2009. -- A planned day of relaxation. Stone and Jake are up early before Figlia. We take advantage of the two bikes that come with the rental of our apartment and head out to a paved bike path not 500 feet away from our building’s front door. We have been told that the path runs from Montesilvano all the way into the center of Pescara, but we have no plans for such a long trip. The asphalt path is wide enough to be shared this warm and sunny day by bicyclists, walkers, runners, and mothers with strollers.

After a while we go off the path and head to the beach, which is but a minute or two away. The beach is Pescara’s main draw and in the summer is crowded, but today it is virtually empty. We get off our bikes and walk down to the water. The beach stretches for miles north and south, to our left and the right. Things are buttoned up in what is still off season: scores of beach umbrellas are roped together and stacked next to a restaurant, the several beach bars are empty and sad looking. A man walks briskly past us with his little panting dog at his side. Here, the Adriatic is calm as a lake in the Poconos.

On the way back home we stop at a little newsstand (oddly called “Dean Martin”) to buy Il Centro, a local newspaper. The headline reads “Catastrofe in Abruzzo,” and 35 of its 40 pages detail the “terremoto” in L’Aquila. The pictures of the devastation are at odds with the beautiful day. We read it under the shade of a nearby tree, then pedal home in a somber mood.

Figlia needs to go to class again and also pack for our next destination – Penne – so we drop her off at her apartment, once again experiencing the traffic of Pescara, which is not really that horrible once one gets use to it. Stone said it best, driving in Pescara is like being in one of those video driving games where obstacles pop up out of nowhere. The pedestrians seem way too bold, the drivers of scooters all have ADD, the bikes are usually pedaled by elderly men too trusting to have lived this long except for daily miracles, the buses are bulldozers in disguise, and most of the cars are driven the way people walk in Manhattan: whoever gets to the spot first wins. Still, we never saw an accident.

Stone and Jake spend their afternoon packing, and then get a call from Figlia. Schools throughout Abuzzo, including her university, have been cancelled for two weeks due to the earthquake. This works out nicely for us, as now all three of us can be in Penne for all seven days.

We decide to say goodbye to Pescara by having a fancy seafood dinner. Jake has pre-trip researched just such a place, L'Angolino da Filippo, south of Pescara, in the little seaside town of Marina di San Vito. Jake’s pre-printed Google map and driving directions make it seem a snap to get to, but the reality proves otherwise. We think we are on the right road, SS 16, but we can see no confirming sign. But at least we know that we are heading south with the Adriatic constantly in view on our left, so we figure sooner or later we’ll get close. Sooner or later we do, and after a pass or two through the tiny but lovely looking Marina de San Vito, we see the restaurant in the fading light of day hiding down by the water’s edge.

L’Angolino da Filippo’s atmosphere, wine (by the glass again, the wine list is too intimidating) and food are all top shelf. Jake and Stone both order the octopus salad and it is breathtakingly delicious. Figlia can find nothing on the limited, all seafood menu that fits her mood, so she sweet talks the waiter (in Italian, naturally) into getting her some simple pasta and red sauce, which proves to be wonderful as well, but not as “awesome” as the chocolate dish called terrina di cioccolato that she has for desert.

Our ride home proves as adventurous as the ride down. A side trip onto an autostrada of some name and number promises to get us into Pescara, which it does, after sending us through several tunnels, one at least two miles long. But it is late at night, the traffic is thin, and we do finally see some familiar landmarks which guide us back to our last night in our Pescara apartment.