Ain’t she a beaut?
This is the espresso machine at the Bar Pizzicato in Vico del Gargano. It’s a very special bar, one of those places where you marvel at the service, where you’re absolutely sure that the barista has eyes in the back of his head.
It’s the mirrors, as I discovered when I tried to take a picture of the gleaming machine surreptitiously. (It didn’t work, as you can tell by the fine portrait taken in the process.)
The Bar Pizzicato is a very special place. It has organic fruit juices and gelato flavors, made from fruit grown in town. It has pastries to die for. The staff people are genuinely and warmly friendly.
Unlike in America, where a “bio” bar or organic juice bar would become a hangout for health nuts and smokers would be booted, here the old guys sit at the tables laid out in front of the bar and smoke while watching the world move along slowly in front of them. Cars stop, drivers talk and gesture. Nobody is bothered, neither the bar’s patrons nor the people stuck behind the yacking drivers.
I like that. I mean I’m not a smoker and don’t particularly relish the idea of sitting next to someone puffing away at breakfast time. But there’s something nice at work here that transcends filthy habits. A sort of slow “live and let live” mentality that transcends the “everyone for himself” mentality of the US. It’s something I admire. The old guys never even seem to buy anything. Ever. But they’re free to sit. Free to watch the world pass.
I’m sorry. I really am. But I like that.