We started with more fun Roman traffic, and eventually arrived in San Felice Circeo, from where Lyle's Italian ancestors emigrated. We had Roberto drive us up one hill and down another until I was halfway sick and we'd gotten some nice panoramic shots.
It was rainy, but not raining, and we had an amazing view of a squall out on the water.
After this, we drove over to the lighthouse and climbed around on the rocks there. Neither of us got swept out to sea, which was a small concern of mine after our conversations with Pall in Cinque Terre, who told us stories about a woman who'd climbed out on some rocks to take pictures during her honeymoon and had exactly that happen.
We figured it was time for lunch, and went down to the beach with fond memories of other afternoons sitting next to the water drinking pitchers of beer and eating buckets of shrimp. There are a number of restaurants together there, so we chose one more or less at random. This was the first time that we've eaten at a place where we had to deal without any English. Most of the waitstaff and so on have generously tried at least a little English with us, but we managed somehow, with no credit to my pathetic Italian. We wound up with one of the best meals we've had here. We ordered the mixed antipasta platter, which wound up being plate after plate after plate after plate of fresh seafood. We had cuttlefish, shrimp, salmon, anchovies, sauteed squid, calamari (yes, I know it's squid, I'm differentiating preparation), tiny clams, mussels. All this along with fresh bread and a bottle of white wine. It was awesome. After that they brought us some kind of lemon slushy thing, and then we had cheesecake - which is much lighter here almost whipped? - and some kind of ginger biscuit thing. If I thought I could do this well at home, I'd stop trying to talk to my servers there too. It's a good thing that we're coming home soon, because I'm pretty sure the basalmic isn't coming out of this shirt without some bleach.
We were just drunk enough to think jumping over some barricades to get down on the beach was a good idea, so we had a nice stroll along the sand before finishing our San Felice visit.
The next plan was Anzio, the beach, not the dog, so we had Roberto drive us over there. The museum doesn't open until 4, so we had time for gelato first. The museum itself is small, but packed with stuff from the war. We watched the little video - which appears to be some kind of propaganda maybe made shortly after the war - and then wandered around a little (a very little, it's like two rooms).
They have a picture of the USS Anzio that may or may not show Lyle standing on deck for the commissioning. Lyle tried to tell her this, something like, "I was on the Anzio." The little old lady staffing the museum was pretty confused, because she had an American standing there telling her he was on Anzio, but he was either lying or hiding a picture of himself in a closet somewhere. We eventually got the misunderstanding worked out, and she was SUPER excited to have him there and very disappointed that the museum's director guy wasn't there to meet him.
We had (an increasingly weary) Roberto take us to the cemetary. The American one was closed, but we at least got to walk through the one that has the Brits and Australians.
Roberto all but told us after this that he was taking us home. That was okay by us because it was already dark and we were tired. A couple hours back in the room to recharge, and Lyle demanded food, so we went to a little pizzeria where they flat out told us they didn't speak English. It was crowded and noisy and good, and we managed just fine.
We're trying to get to bed early so we can get up early and go to... stay tuned.
Marty and Lyle
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