Everyone says so. Seriously. I checked the tripadvisor reviews after we got back, and getting on for half said exactly that. They’re not wrong, Brian.
Jens found the place online. Reputed to be an experience as well as a great munch. Hundreds of reviews, overall score 4.9. Never seen the like. Fully deserved. A one man show – and what a man. Simon, apparently. Waiter, maitre d’, cook – no-one else in the place. Apart from customers, who, like us, were queuing up at the door when he opened up, as advertised on the chalked board at the door, at 8.05 (‘Eight o five?’).
Absolutely full on from the off: chatting, singing, taking orders, skipping around like a crazy man. Bonkers. But never for a moment did it feel at all fake or put on. He was just being himself. Apparently he keeps it up till one in the morning, every night. And does lunch toboot. A force of nature. The food was sublime. Seafood pasta. Best I’ve ever tasted. It’s a grotesquely over-used word, but if anything ever deserved the word ‘unique’, a meal at Spaghetteria #9 is it. Go to Ancona. Now!
In other news, the train trip, it turns out, is tomorrow. (As patiently explained yesterday, apparently. Clearly I wasn’t paying adequate attention.) Today was about hauling ourselves up a succession of climbs away from the coast and up into the hills. With ‘help’ from the increasingly demented BikeMap, which seems to operate on the basis that if there’s a small road and an even smaller road, the even smaller one is obviously preferable. Even if it’s unsurfaced scrap, with long sections so steep that it’s almost impossible to get enough purchase to push the damn bike up, any riding being utterly out of the question. And for absolutely no benefit whatsoever. BikeMap – the app that turns cyclists into struggling, cursing walkers.
With a couple of weeks to go, it now looks like we’ll hit Napoli ahead of schedule, giving us time for a pootle round further south. I wonder if there are hills down there…
