Other than our trip across the ocean, today is likely to be our longest transit. Our journey begins on a regional train from Monterosso to La Spezia Centrale, a 20-minute ride on what resembles a commuter train: two-story wagons with no assigned seating that stop at every station. We then have 11 minutes to board our train to Rome. A connection time unthinkable in most North American public transportation, but realistic on most days in Northern Italy.
The 4-hour train journey along the coast to Rome is relatively comfortable, and we pay the extra 20€ per head for a business-class cabin. This was followed by an hour train to Napoli, our final destination. The 30-minute connection felt long, but it couldn’t be helped. Looking at the train schedule, other connections to Napoli would have been within the +/- 5-minute “fudge factor” trains seem to keep around here.
This entire journey demonstrated that there are the rules, and then there’s how they’re applied.
- The rules say restaurants should ask for our green pass before letting us in. We’ve been asked for it once.
- The rules say you should show your green pass to board a train. When it came into operation, on Sept 1, it was checked. Four days later, we just needed to say we were Canadian. No check of the date or number of vaccine shots, and that’s on one train out of three.
- The rules say we should wear our masks indoors. That is applied, but only in the strictest sense of "indoors”. Train platforms are considered outdoors; under the roof of the open-air train station is closer to indoors, since most people, but not all, wear masks; at least restaurants are definitely indoors. Still, if you forget your mask, you might be reminded politely to put it on at the end of your transaction (or not).
- The rule says you must board the train through the door identified as the entrance for your car and exit through the, what I’m forced to assume, the confusingly named “exit” door. I think you would be better served with a coin than any signage to predict which door people will use to enter or exit.
- The rule says we should be socially distanced by 1 meter. I have not seen a queue even close to that, and the owner of our favourite enoteca in Monterosso went so far as to hug us. The distance between patrons at tables in restaurants is probably one meter, as long as you use a meter made of wood and leave it with a beaver for a day or two. As I’m writing this, the people behind us in line for a seat at L'Antica Pizzeria Da Michele keep brushing against my ass. Granted, I’m told by Karine, an impartial and fair judge of my ass’ qualities if I’ve ever met one, I have a good-looking ass, but it’s no reason to break the social distancing rules or invade my personal space.
Overall, the rules are clearly posted but mostly ignored, treated more as suggestions than as rules. It is a behaviour I find emblematic of my interactions with Italians during our travels. Maybe I’m wrong, and it’s likely a gross exaggeration, but you know, I’ve yet to be proven wrong. It is, at least a little bit, part of the Italian charm.
We closed the day at L'Antica Pizzeria Da Michele. Our mission is to determine whether it’s as good as we remember and whether the franchise really deviates from what we think the authentic Da Michele pizza should be.
The arrival at the antique pizzeria has changed. Before you presented yourself at the door, you were given a number written on a scrap of paper. Once in a while, somebody would come and yell a number. When your number is called, you get to sit down and eat. This simple, if a little chaotic, system has been relegated to yelling takeout numbers. To sit down and eat these days, there’s a line—no need to learn numbers above a hundred in Italian anymore. The green pass check is, of course, new, but thanks to our special password: “we are Canadian, we are waved through as soon as we reach the line.
Order is the same 30-second affair as it always was. There are four pizzas and six drink options on the menu, and you'd better make up your mind on what you want before you sit down. Our two pizza margarita arrived within 2 minutes of the order.
Our taste test confirms that the original Da Michele makes better pizzas than its franchises. It could be the sheer number of pizzas they make a night that hones their craft, it could be that the best pizzas are made quickly, it could be they have a different recipe, but it’s simply better. The crust tastes richer and retains more of its elasticity. The sauce-to-cheese ratio is better, so the cheese flavour isn't lost in the tomato sauce. Overall, it’s a better pizza.
The last change we’ve noticed is the opening hours. They now open sooner (11:00) and don’t observe the siesta anymore, meaning they stay open between 14:00 and 16:00. For us, it means we’ll be able to sneak in a last pizza before we pick up our cat and hit the road tomorrow.