May Day in Torvaianica

A sunny day along the promenade at Torvaianica

May first was sunny and warm, a perfect day to visit the beaches of the Mediterranean in nearby Torvaianica. 

 

Brilliantly colored daisy-like flowers decorated every balcony in this apartment building

Luciana was not feeling well, so she dropped us off there. Gauss and I planned to hang out a bit on the beach, eat lunch, and then walk the three miles back to her house.

May First is Labor Day just about everywhere in the world except the U.S., and many people were taking a long weekend. The roads along the beach were jammed with parked cars and Romans escaping the city for the holiday.  We walked down to the shoreline, but the water was too cold to do anything more than wade. We had to content ourselves with people-watching. Teenage boys kicked soccer balls, teenage girls walked together in giggling packs, and young families made their way along the stone walkway pushing strollers.

The water was a bit cold for swimming, but there was lots of sunbathing and soccer on the beach

Gauss stopped at a store to buy some sandals, and then we began looking for a place to have pizza for lunch. Several restaurants advertised wood-fired ovens—it looked promising. The first place we stopped at was not open for lunch, so we ambled down the main road. Another place offered samples, but it was basically a takeout counter with pizza by the slice. We were looking for a sit-down place serving classic pizza Napoletana so we moved along.

Another spot off the main road looked like a good candidate, but when we got there, we discovered that it had closed permanently. Later, Luciana explained that “The Crisis”—their term for the economic downturn of recent years—continued to take a toll on local businesses. “People don’t have enough money for gas to go to the seaside,” she explained.

A fancy-looking restaurant right on the beach at the town’s main intersection seemed nice, but perhaps pricey. Gauss suggested we try a pizzeria that was kitty-corner. We walked into the pizzeria, took a quick look at the menu, and decided this would be our spot. We opened the menu and told the waitress that we would be getting pizza.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “we don’t have pizza at lunchtime.”

Gauss and I had really been looking forward to a pizza, so we decided to go back to the fancy place. When we got there, the hostess greeted us. “We would like to get pizza,” Gauss told her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “we don’t have pizza at lunchtime.”

Gauss and I exchanged looks. In addition to a fixed-price May Day special, the menu had lots of tempting seafood selections. We were done chasing around, and decided we would be happy with seafood. The hostess led us back to a table overlooking the beach and handed menus to us. Hmmm…fried calamari, spaghetti with shrimp, mixed seafood salad. We couldn’t go wrong. Just as I began to point to my selection, a manager swooped in and slapped a couple of new sheets with specials into our open menus.

“Sorry,” he said, “No ala carte today! Only specials.”

I caught a quick look at the two new specials: pasta with clams and olive oil, a shrimp risotto, something about fried mixed seafood. One of the specials cost 14 euros, the other cost 16. Beyond that, I didn’t really have a handle on what was in each one.

“Which one you want?” the manager asked us.

I was trying to review the possibilities, but he broke in.

“I suggest you have one of each,” he said, snatching the menus from us, “It will be very good.”

Gauss kind of shrugged but by then the manager was on to the next table.

We looked at each other. What had just happened? We didn’t want to walk out of this place, too, so we decided to just roll with it. As the restaurant began to fill with May Day vacationers, the pace around us quickened. Waitresses rushed from the kitchen and then, inches from our table, slowed down and placed mixed seafood salads in front of us, serving from the correct side. The fish was super-fresh, the lettuce crispy and light.

We leaned back in our chairs after finishing the salads, awaiting the next course. I couldn’t remember which one of us had the linguine with clams and which had the shrimp risotto. We were puzzled when, quite some time later, the waitress came bearing identical plates, but she explained that this course was the same for both specials. The linguine was perfectly al dente, the clams tender. The flavor of the seafood risotto exploded in our mouths. We ate slowly, savoring each bite.

I wasn’t sure if this was it, or if there was another course to come. And what that might be, exactly, I wasn’t sure either. Despite the hubbub around us, the pace of the meal was leisurely. For some time after we finished the pasta and risotto, we wondered what would come next, the check or another course. I started to get fidgety. We’d been at the restaurant for an hour and a half, and my rear end was going numb from sitting. Gauss reminded me that on holidays like this, Italians liked a big meal that lasted all afternoon.

We were really full and didn’t know how we might cram another course into our tummies. Gauss became concerned. It was not the Italian way to ask for a doggie bag, but a few minutes later he noticed that a couple at an adjacent table had asked for their secondi to go. We relaxed, and a few minutes later our waitress hustled out from the kitchen with half a fried fish for Gauss and a plate of fried mixed seafood—calamari, shrimp, and mussels—for me. Gauss asked if we might get a container for it, gesturing to the adjacent table. The waitress agreed. We had to have a few bites, and the flavors were memorable, but we were just too full. Two and a half hours after we walked in, the waitress arrived with a box and our check.

 

Jasmine poking through a fence in Torvaianica

We were more than ready to walk off the big lunch. Although the roads were narrow and inhospitable for pedestrians, when not dodging cars we were able to pause here and there to sniff overhanging jasmine blossoms and photograph scarlet poppies. 

Scarlet poppies grew everywhere