I have to admit, there was a HUGE part of me that just wanted to stay in tonight. After all, I had everything I needed. I had purchased beer earlier that day, and there was a store in the lobby of the hotel. I'm sure they sold crackers or something. I am from Newfoundland - I don't need much.
However, I would never hear the end of it if I told people that I was in New York City and stayed in my hotel, so I decided to head to an area of the city I have never visited: Little Italy. It was only fitting, seeing as I am part Italian. (OK, so I'm not really Italian, but that's what I told the people of Oshawa when I spent weekends there with my friend Teresa Magnone's family. In fact, as Nonna Magnone got older, she even started to think of me as one of her grandchildren. I guess my accent was pretty good to be able to fool her. I was pretty proud of myself, in that regard, especially when Nonna announced that I was her favourite grandchild. She apparently liked my hair more than that of the other children. But I digress ... )
I did a little research prior to heading out, but I found that typing "restaurants in Little Italy, NY" was about as helpful as typing "Chinese grocery stores on Spadina". Thus, I decided to just determine what the main drag was, go there, and just walk around until I found something that appealed to me.
Now, I'll let you in on something here: I was an ugly duckling as a child. (Wait. That implies there's been a period of blossoming into a swan of some sort, doesn't it? OK, I'll accept that this may have happened. However, the swan is closer to Mad TV's "Miss Swan". But, again, I digress ... ) Thus, two things can happen to me if an Italian man tries to charm me. (1) If he's older and smarmy, or too good looking, I won't react well. Older and smarmy just makes my skin crawl and I don't trust ANY good looking people. But that's for another note ... (2) If he's the least bit geeky I'll melt and give in. I have a soft spot for geeky Italian guys. It's like I never quite got over Roberto Benigni's Oscar acceptance speech! In any case, when a short, geeky Italian man came up to me and said: "Bella! Bienvenuto a Napoli", I was sold!
He set up a table in the window (it was a beautifully warm night, so the front of the restaurant was completely open) and told me that they made all their pasta, breads, and sauces right on the premises and that if there was anything I wanted that I didn't see on the menu, just ask and he was sure they could make it for me. At that point, he could have told me that he had the cure for cancer and I would have believed him. I ordered vitello alla marsala (sorry!) and some of the house chianti. I ended dinner with a double decaf espresso (sorry!) and a little sambuca. Did the meal blow me away? No. But did I enjoy several geeky little waiters all calling me "Signorina", "Bella" and various other terms of endearment? Absolu-frickin-lutely!
I left the restaurant and decided to walk around Little Italy for a while longer. In doing so, I discovered that these days there seems to be more Korean spoken in Little Italy that actual Italian. (There's something about hearing "Bella" in a Korean accent that is a little incongruous.) I also discovered that the spirit of commerce is alive and well in Little Italy. There were more perfume shops, jewelry stores, purse and pashmina kiosks and t-shirt stands than you could shake a stick at. I was stopped in my tracks at one of the t-shirt stands when I saw a shirt emblazoned with the following: "F**k you, you f**king f**k!" (Charming!) I also saw one that would surely appeal to tourists: "New York F**king City". (So much more expressive than "I <heart> New York", don't you think?)
Clearly, the entrepreneurs of Little Italy are fans of "The Sopranos". I'm just sayin' ...
With those two gem-like catch phrases burned onto my brain, I flagged down a cab, hummed "Isn't It Romantic" to myself, and headed back to the hotel.
La Vita e Bella, indeed!
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