Tag! I’m in! Trecor’s turn to write!
We’re sorry that we’ve been posting nothing but Instagram and Metallica photos, everybody. We’re going to need to get into the habit of working some writing time into our schedule. At the time of writing for this current post, Mother Nature has given us the necessary kick in the ass to finally get going on the writing part of the blog by giving us a rainy day in Venice today.
Uri and I started t make our way to the ferries, but then relented defeat to the rain, bought ourselves a delicious merangue, and headed back to the hostel.
Anyway, back to Pescara:
You’ve heard of wake and bake, right? Well you should try wake and beach. (I know it doesn’t rhyme, but trust me, it’s way better.) When Uri and I finally woke up after a long night at da club, Michela’s parents had already left for the beach. You know how some people go in together on a timeshare? In Pescara, people go in on beach umbrellas. For years now, her parents have reserved a spot on the beach with a group of friends. Michela did the same with a group of 40 of her own friends. That way, you don’t have to endure the scorching hot sand, and instead, hide under the tranquil cover of your umbrella shade. This is the beach life.
When Michela, Uri, and I joined her parents on the beach, she introduced us to a Venezuelan friend of the family’s. He’s been living in Italy for years now, and laments the strife his nation is going through at the moment.
After a quick dip in the water and a brief walk along the shore, the three of us returned home for a much-needed nap. AND THEN IT WAS BACK TO THE BEACH FOR ROUND 2!
Michela introduced Uri to a game called Racquetoni. It’s essentially tennis, but with large wooden racquets. The racquets are heavy, but they carry a lot of power. Italians love to play racquetoni on the beach just as much as they love to play beach volleyball. Racquetoni is typically played in shallow water.
What Uri and I found most fascinating, though, was that Michela claims that there is one single man who is responsible for making all of the racquetoni racquets in Pescara. If you’ve ever played racquetoni in Pescara, you’ve likely met this man. Uri, being the nerd that he is, made a connection to the world of Harry Potter. “He’s like the man in charge of wizarding wands!” he exclaimed. “The racquetoni chooses you!”
Uri sucked at racquetoni, by the way. I just wanted to mention that. Michela was taking it easy on him, but he was shooting the ball in every possible direction except towards her. And his arm movements were just so awkward. It was embarassing. It was like watching a baby tauntaun learn to walk.
At one point while we were in the water, I suddenly noticed that everybody on the beach looked like a freakin’ model out of your beloved Hollywod. They were all in super shape! It makes sense, though; between volleyball, racquetoni, bike riding, dancing, and who knows what else, Pescarians (is that the correct term?) live rather active lives. Michela also added that everybody wants to look good because you spend most of the year half naked. And she wasn’t kidding! There was enough eye candy everywhere to make your head spin! Both men and women don’t leave much to the imagination here. For once, I was glad to have my helmet; that way women couldn’t tell when I was checking them out.
We met more of Michela’s friends later on. Most notable of the bunch was Gianluca. He was a fellow Metallica fan. In fact, almost everybody in his group of friends was a Metallica fan. They’re all going to the Metallica show in Bologna in February. Gianluca, Uri, and I were just a group of fanboys squealing over our mutual adoration of Metallica. “I’ll leave you guys alone,” Michela joked.
After Uri told them about our 10-month trip together, one of Gianluca’s friends nicknamed Uri The Good Life. Or at least, we think he did, because every time we bumped into him afterwards, he’d yell out, “The Good Life!”
Back at the apartment, Michela’s father invited us out on to the balcony to enjoy the wind–though he pronounced it with a long ‘i’. We heard “wine,” and eagerly joined him. Everybody had a good laugh.
Dinner was splendid once again, thanks to Eugenia’s magic hands in the kitchen. Along with leftovers from the day before, there was cotoletta alla milanese (a flat fried meat).
That night, the trio once again headed out for a night on the town. We had some arrosticini, a cuisine local to the region. It’s cut up sheep’s meat on a skewer. Uri and I were expecting just a couple skewers each, but the server came back with a huge bag full.
Halfway through, Michela explained that she and her friends usually count to see who ate the most skewers at the end. It was a delicious and satisfying draw. We were all winners.
We met another of Michela’s friends, Alessandro. Despite his limited English, he and Uri bonded over their mutual appreciation for Metallica (it seems every male in Italy is a metalhead), tattoos, and the Raptors. He was also excited about the fact that some guy named Ibaka or Ibako was coming back to the Raptors after a brief departure. (I find your primitive Earth sports so amusing. Now limmie–there’s a sport. What a beautiful game. Poetry in motion, it is.)
I say that Alessandro’s English was limited, but I’m convinced he knew more than he let on. His understanding was very good, and whenever Michela wasn’t around or wasn’t listening, he’d suddenly let out a burst of English. It was rather amusing.
The four of us–we’d grown to a quartet now–biked over to a place that was playing reggaeton. Finally, Michela could get her groove on! We met up with Alessandro’s friends, though they quickly disappeared and went home to bed. Being the kind-hearted soul that she is, Michela later agreed to change venues and go somewhere where they were playing music more along Uri’s tastes.
The next thing we knew, it was 3:30 yet again. I have no idea how that happened. We headed home, but the party went on without us. Pescara is the beach town that never sleeps.
Well, the rain has stopped, and the sky is slowly clearing. We’re off to the island of Burano!