I love Europe. I often think I probably should have been born a European rather than an American. It is not that I don’t love the United States but just that I seem to fit better into the European style of living and thinking.
I am in my hotel room in Ponte San Giovanni, Italy, on my final night of a one-month European trip before I fly home tomorrow. It has been an excellent trip, in which I ran three fun biking tours (two in Provence and one in Umbria) but it is time to go home. I miss sleeping in my own bed, having a beer with my friends, and watching a movie while snuggling with my girlfriend Devon. But missing home doesn’t detract from the joy I have had in spending another month in Europe.
Let me explain to you why I love Europe by describing my final evening here in Italy. I walked across the street from my hotel into a residential neighborhood, full of high-rise apartment and condo buildings that seemed, at first glance, to have zero appeal. However, at 8:00 in the evening on a Sunday night the place was alive with people. Young boys were playing basketball in a school courtyard, teenagers were flirting with each other in the park, and families were sitting down to gelato or a pizza. There was a distinct sense of community.
I was aiming for dinner and sat at an outdoor table at the local Regina Margherita pizzeria, whose owners proudly proclaimed they were from Naples. Using my pidgeon Italian, I found out that the menu was pizza and only pizza. However, when I asked about the pasta I was craving, the owner suggested “pasta arrabiata”, which has a spicy tomato sauce with garlic, red chile flakes, and Italian spices. When I asked about a salad, the very nice man had to ask the cook, his wife, what she could create – it was not normally on the menu.
Ultimately, I had one of the best pastas I have ever eaten. The pasta itself was soft, delicate, almost luxurious. The sauce was delicious, full of garlic and spices. I made the error of asking for Parmesan cheese before even trying the pasta but the Signora explained to me pasta with arrabiata sauce didn’t need cheese. She was right.
Coupled with a basic salad and the house red wine, this was one of the best meals I had in my month in Europe. It is exactly why European, and especially Italian, life appeals to me: it is simple and yet meets all one’s needs, plain vanilla and yet as delectable as one can get. I’ll be back.
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