Pasta Divina - Brussels

                                                  

Picture from TripAdvisor

So this post is really just me telling you all one more time that you should go to Pasta Divina, it's located in Rue de la Montaigne not far from Grand Place, and it's a quiet area. This italian restaurant is not big, but very cozy and has wonderful food. It's some of the best pasta I've ever tasted. Go there! The "mom" is in the kitchen cooking and the "dad" and "daughter" works as waiters. 5 stars!

Mari Clémentine

Much to do about nothing – Brussels

Seriously. Today I’ve done about nothing. We’ve been shopping for the first time in Brussels and we’ve been jumping from café to café eating macaroons and drinking coffee. Shopping. Shopping. Chocolate. It wasn’t until this evening the real fun started.

    We were just going out for dinner at a place called Pasta Divina, I had seen it the other day and really wanted some real Pasta Carbonara when we took a wrong turn and ended up in the middle of a couple of restaurant-streets. We were more or less attacked by waiters wanting us to sit down, but the worst, funniest thing ever happened when we had nearly made it out and a man suddenly blocked our way holding his arms out. I, of course, ran right into them, getting a long hug and kisses on the cheek and goodness knows, but he wanted one more and all togheter I think we spent 10 minutes hugging, another one showed up offering us free drinks and then free everything, but I had set my mind on Pasta Divina and that is where we ended up. Thank goodness, because the pasta was divine. It’s a quiet place located in Rue de la Montaigne, ran by an Italian family with the mother in the kitchen. Lovely.

   Heading home I found bongo-drums, a street artist and a slightly drunk man, nice enough wanting to show off his political knowledge about the European Union. He also was black, against immigrants to Europe and called himself Tom Jones – enough entertainment for the night for sure.

    Point being: Go out after six o’clock and you’ll find yourself in a dreamland of entertainment if you come open minded and is up for anything. Let the city catch you,

Mari Clémentine.

It's hard to be a tourist in Rome

“What do you want?” she asked me and looked at me from the other side of the table. I shrugged. “I don’t know… I’m just hungry.” She laughed.  I hadn’t really done much but eating for the last three days. From breakfast at the hotel, to gelato in the streets, a Panini here and there, melon at the market, a pizza-slice for lunch and lovely pasta for dinner. Well about the pasta…

We started out this morning at 7 am to catch the 9 am walking tour of the Vatican Gardens. It must have been the warmest day of our stay and we went to catch a walking-tour.

    The Vatican is, as you may know, not a part of Italy, but a country of its own, so if you want to call someone from the Vatican gardens you will actually have to dial a country code. Yeah, that’s how official it is. Our guide on the other hand was a fun lady from Italy, who made jokes about the church and the Catholics all morning long. Unfortunately touring Vatican gardens is the only way you really can get into the Vatican (besides Musei Vaticani) if you’re not living there, but you have to be with an official guide at all times. Nevertheless we had great fun that morning, even though we ended up rather hot in the burning sun.

 

   

“Maggie!” I turned as my English-nickname was shouted out over Piazza di Spagna. I turned to find my good friend Lulu. I had met her in Brighton three years earlier, and hadn’t seen her since last time I visited Rome two years ago. “Oh my God!” I ran up to hug her and my mom was following slowly kissing Lulus mom on the cheek. It was a lot of screaming and a lot of “How are you!?”’s.

    There is something special about meeting old friends. In special those who live in another country that you have not seen in two years. We went walking to a little place where we always go called Antica Roma and sat down for drinks. There was a lot of discussing old times, school, travelling and not to forget weather. It was the hottest summer in Rome in a long time, it was the hottest day as far as we knew and at times I took myself in longing to London, which have about 13+ or so.

   The time went by fast and after some shopping in Via del Corso, maybe Rome’s finest shopping street, Lulu and her mom had to go and we said our goodbyes at the bottom of the Spanish-steps. “I’ll see you in a couple of years, Maggie!”

“Hopefully not to many,” I said and smiled.

     The sun kissed my skin a last time before it went down behind the churches of the city and we sat down in a lovely restaurant not far from our hotel called Pastarito where they served the most fantastic Pasta Carbonara with a -  quoting my mother – dangerously good wine. I ate until I got sick and then we headed back to Cicerone to pack our bags. Next stop: Florence.

Mari Clémentine

Blue Polar Bears lost in Roma

"Roses are red.
I’m gonna sue.

Polar bears are white
So why is this BLUE?!" - Me at the dinnertable

So I guess in Italy, the place really known for its great fashion and shopping streets are Milan, but I found some rather good buys in Rome. It is summer sale after all and even though I planned on going to the Zoo, who can say no to shoes!

    So as you might guess, today we ended up just hanging around in the streets during the day and going to the Castel San’Angelo and its markets at night. Does it sound like I shopped ‘til I dropped, I really didn’t. But I did get a cute dress and some wonderful high heeled shoes, which I wore for dinner as I knew there was no cobblestone on the short way to the restaurant. 

     “What do you want?” I asked my mom. “I don’t know. Pasta maybe?”

“Okey. What kind of Pasta. Carbonara or bolonaise?”

“I don’t know. Carbonara?”

“Yeah, sure. But I do have a little urge for pizza.”

“Pizza.”

“But we can eat Pasta, it’s okey.”

    The waiter soon arrived at our table to take orders. I looked at my mom. “Pasta?”
“Pizza!” I couldn’t help but laugh. And then for dessert, when I ordered the children’s ice-cream the people who work there couldn’t help but laugh either. But as everything on this blog it has a story.

    When I was ten and went to Gran Canaria we were going to Playa del Ingles a day and before walking to the beach we went to a shopping center where we had icecream. The very same type of icecream. Except that time I ordered the cow and the bird, and now I got the polar bear. A blue polar bear. Yeah, I don’t know if they thought I was just cute or cute and retarded. But at least they smiled, so I’m taking my blue ice bear home, baby!

And tomorrow I’m getting up at 7 am to go to the Vatican – lucky me!
Mari Clémentine