continued, continued

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Simply telling the bus driver where we wanted to be dropped off indeed did work (thank you thank you thank you Steven and (lady friends whos name I cannot spell) for your abilities to speak italian. We would never have made it to this hotel in the middle of nowhere without you. We found the hotel and damn it was nice.... actually a real hotel. We had clean rooms with big comfortable beds, tv (I love it in other languages), private bathrooms, and balconies which in the morning would reveal fantastic views of the mountains. Not wanting to brave the outside (cold temperatures, high winds, and light rain...... which I hoped would not hold into the morning) we ate at the hotels restaurant. We seemed the only people staying there.... and were certainly the only people eating at the restaurant other than the family who owned the place. It was like we walked into their living room and asked to be fed. Several generations gathered at a table, then a middle aged man sat us and waited on us, with others went to the kitchen.

Do they treat all their guests like this? Was it because we were the only folks staying the night? Did we strike them right? Was out italian well meaning enough? Did we smile just right or display the right manners? Whatever it was, we were treated like one of the family (the four of us treated like one? sorry, Im tired and not willing to correct mixed metaphores, etc). The food was AMAZING. Homemade pasta. Simple but thrilling and tastey sauces. Fresh ingredients (seafood, mostly). At the end of our mean, they even (literally, Im not kidding) brought food from their family table to ours.... their own homemade salami (we were asked our opinions) and pizza. I have never eaten so well...

Or slept so well. But I needed it.....

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