Thought Number One: I take back everything I said about the Madrid metro being overly confusing; at least I could eventually figure out where I was going if I stared at the map long enough. Trying to navigate the train/subway system in Naples is a true test of your mettle.
I was walking around after eating a pretty great pizza at Pizzeria Brandi, when I saw a huge crowd lining up for what appeared to be some kind of food. A bit of investigation revealed it to a place called Zia Esterina that’s actually really famous for their fried pizza.
If you’ve read my post about Las Fritas in Barcelona, then you’ll know I’m pretty much entirely powerless to resist a line for food. What’s at the end of that line? How delicious is it? I must know.
Pizzeria Brandi claims to have invented the margherita pizza back in 1890 (though Wikipedia disputes that fact); true or not, a lot of people want to check the place out. It’s tourist overload. When I went, it was the most Asian people I’ve seen concentrated in one spot since coming to Europe.
Still, as jammed with tourists as it was (and it was jammed), how could I not go here? They invented the margherita pizza. If you love pizza and you don’t pay this place a visit, you’re doing it wrong.
If you’ll recall, a bunch of terrorist jerkfaces did their stupid jerk thing in Barcelona and kind of made me question my desire to stay in Europe.
Well guess what, jerkfaces? I’m still here. And boy am I glad I am, because I’ve been in Naples less than a day and can already tell that the food here is, in the immortal words of Guy Fieri, out of bounds.
Yes, it’s that time again — another country is wrapping up, so here’s a bunch of photos that couldn’t quite fit into their own posts.
I have a thing about people lining up for food. If I see a line, I feel a very strong compulsion to stop whatever I’m doing and get in it. Because what do those people know that I don’t know? Following the mob isn’t always the wisest of choices, but seriously, what’s at the front of that line and how do I eat it?
So when I saw a line for a place that specializes in fries called Las Fritas when I was walking around in Barcelona, I was in that line almost instantly. I had never heard of this place, and French fries don’t exactly scream authentic Spanish food, but look at that line. It must be good!
Who can say no to ham croquettes at McDonald’s? Or chicken wings? Well, most people, probably — not this guy.
I’m not very smart, you see. As most people would reasonably imagine, neither of these things were very good.
Note: Thanks to a bunch of terrorist douchebags, the chronology of this blog is a bit messed up. This and the next few posts were actually written before that whole fiasco, which is why this is written as though I’m still in Zaragoza.
I wound up in Zaragoza pretty much at random; the initial plan was to go to San Sebastian between Madrid and Barcelona. It turns out I’m a cheapo and can’t afford San Sebastian, so plan B it is: spending a few nights in Zaragoza, a medium-sized city about halfway between Madrid and Barcelona.
It’s not exactly the first place place you think of when you visit Spain (I hadn’t even heard of it until recently), but I’m actually quite enjoying my time here.
I’ve been eating a lot of really great meals on this trip; here’s one of the not-so-great ones.
This wasn’t something that I thought would be particularly blog-worthy; just a quick (and unhealthy) breakfast thanks to a random recommendation on the internet. “Hey,” the internet told me, “the napolitana de chocolate at La Mallorquina is actually pretty good!” Okay, internet, I’ll give it a shot.
The bakery turned out to be in a super touristy part of town, so my expectations weren’t very high, to put it kindly.
Then I took a bite and my whole life changed.