We wanted to go someplace extraordinary for dinner for our last evening in Italy. The concierge at Motel Corsi, in Torrimpietra just west of Rome near da Vinci Airport, recommended the pleasant-looking family restaurant across the street. But we wanted something near the ocean.
He suggested we take a drive out to Fregene, but he warned that not many places are open because they're still waking from their winter slumber. After searching for a place that was open, we found Sogno del Mare, a restaurant that's part of a seaside resort. We were told we'd have to wait about 45 minutes while the staff ate dinner, so we took a walk along the beach as the sun began to slip into the Mediterranean, imagining the battles that took place here as long 2,000 years ago, when Rome ruled the seas, and as recently as 60 years ago, when the Allies landed nearby.
The Sogno del Mare staff spoke no English, and the only other people in the place, which looked like it seated 100 or more, were two couples. Our wait was rewarded with such specialties as gnochetti (little gnocchi) with clams and shrimp. Paul had a cheese pizza designed for four people, which he nearly consumed himself but shared with his sister Emma, whose onion pizza strangely arrived with no cheese. So much for my ordering skills. For dessert we had fresh strawberries with vanilla gelato, tiramisu, and tortino di cioccolata, a dense chocolate torte artfully presented on a large plate drizzled with hot fudge and dusted with sugar. What a perfect way to end our trip, with a show from the magnificent sunset and edible art from the kitchen Sogno del Mare. Like the name, it was a "Dream by the Sea."
On the 20-minute drive back to the hotel, we talked about what a great time we've had and what the kids liked best (Venice and Rome), interspersed with practical talk about what and how we were going to pack for the journey tomorrow, especially all those souvenirs.
Diane joked about kidnapping all of us, chucking everything and buying a house in Tuscany. The kids for a moment weren't sure if she was serious. Maybe she was half serious.
"I'm ready to stay forever if that were possible," I said, ready to embrace a culture that seems to make "doing nothing" an art form, a culture that loves good food, good company and seems to make the time for it. "But I'm ready to go home if not."
Alas, staying forever is not possible, at least not now.
"You know, Dad," said Sarah, "I feel exactly the same way."
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