On Saturday, November 1 (All Saints’ Day) we headed to
Arriving around lunchtime, we decided to join the locals in dining. Unfortunately, some misguided ordering senza dictionary led us to select a lunch that had to be discarded (Martello did his best to break up the offending meat with a knife and swirl it around the plate so as not to overly offend the chef). Afterwards, Martello found our way to the site of
We decided that it would be a good place to lord over, although most of the lording these days seems to be less fulfilling than it might have been in the days of balls and cannons (for example, there appeared to be a fleet of rental cars below one of the vistas; not very imposing nor impressive). Unfolding below the fortress we spotted a carnival—perhaps in honor of the holiday. We descended in order to investigate, but unfortunately there was no cotton candy to be found (isn’t a carnival’s raison d’etre the vending of cotton candy??). So we headed to the center of town to window shop and procure some long overdue lunch for Martello—pizza, which an already portly local dog tried to eat!
Incidentally, having decided long before we set foot in Savona that “My Savona” would be an excellent title for this post, it came as quite a shock when Trofie Wife stepped into a house wares store on the main drag (in order to purchase some discount dishcloths) only to find “My Sharona” (I kid you not!) playing as the transaction unfolded! (Martello missed the whole amazing coincidence while finishing his pizza on the bench outside, but in the spirit of upholding their marriage vows, fully believed Trofie Wife without demanding independent corroboration). We continued to explore
Sunday was not as eventful as Saturday; actually, it felt more like a Saturday in
Baci e gelato,
Martello e Trofie Wife