Casa Di David
After dismounting from the canal boat, it was time for dinner. As we wandered around the streets on the look out for something good, we passed a delicious sounding pasta place, bars selling hefty burgers and many stops where hungry punters poured out onto the streets. Nothing quite caught our eye until we stumbled across
Casa Di David
though. The Italian restaurant was absolutely bustling with locals, which could only mean good things. There was no queue, but it appeared that whenever a group left, another swiftly arrived to take their place. We bagged a table outside by the canal in the warm evening air and sat perusing the menu. This was a moment I would have loved to been able to bottle up, so I could relive now and then. I felt so calm. Apart from the pattering sound of passersby's footsteps, energetic voices engrossed in conversations and the kitty snoozing on the chair next to me, it was quiet and still. In many ways, it replicated the feelings I experienced on an evening drive a few months back.
I only had eyes for pizza that night*, so I sped through the menu wishing for something unbelievably cheesy and, fingers crossed, covered in pepperoni. As you can see from the photo above, Casa Di David answered my prayers with ease. The food was absolutely delicious and the service was great too - the waiter was more than happy to joke around with us, which always feels so welcoming. When we stopped inhaling our pizzas and came up for air, Emma and I chatted the night away. We reminisced about school, giddily talked about future travel plans and genuinely just had a laugh. I love situations in which the concept of time goes completely out of the window, and this was most definitely one of them; a true yellow memory orb moment. As the night crept away, I realised just how much I didn't want the holiday to end!
*She says, as though it isn't a regular occurrence. Or the epitome of her life.