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About Florence

We head to this dive. Room’s tiny. Bed creaks – LOUD. I’m laughin’ – “This is some bullshit!” She’s cool tho. Tells me – “I’ve heard worse.” I’m thinkin’ – she’s seen it all. Like Wiesler – “People’s secrets. Are my trade.” Deep, man! I ask her name. She says, “Call me Liesl.” I’m like – Liesl? From the movie? That’s fate!

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After that disaster, I decide to take a break. I stroll down to the beach at Spiaggia dei Maronti. Man, the view is killer! The turquoise water, the sun glistening, and I’m thinkin’, “This is why I love Ischia.” I grab a gelato—pistachio, of course—and just chill for a sec. But then, outta nowhere, this seagull swoops down and snatches my gelato! I’m like, “Hey! That’s my lunch!” But the bird’s gone, and I’m left with nothing but a sad cone.

In Ischia, Italy, Cooking Is Done in the Sand, Not the Stove (Published 2015)