A Napoli love story

This may sound silly, but the only reason why I wanted to go to Naples (Napoli) was to eat the pizza. And I'm not even ashamed to tell you that. Naples is notorious for it's savory pizza pies. Being the curious cat that I am, I had to see for myself how scrumptious they really are.
Wearing my best stretchy pants (just kidding), I sought out the best of the best pizza joints in town.

First up was "Da Michele", made famous from the book/movie "Eat, Pray, Love". The author raved so much about their pizzas, she made my mouth water.

Navigating through the rain with map in hand, I was on a mission. Nothing could stop me from getting this pizza in my belly. Arriving at the restaurant, I was not impressed by it's decor. Green and white tile walls. It was very plain and a little cold looking. I'll give it a chance.

As I make my way to a small table, I walk past about 7 clearly Italian workers with t-shirts and aprons on. The pizza creators made me blush as they yelled out "ciao bella!" to me. I watch them stuff pizzas into a wood burning oven and carefully sprinkle cheese on the top of another, like Michelangelo perfecting his masterpiece. They smelled irresistibly delicious.
The waiter follows closely and says to me "margherita pizza?" before I even sit down.
"Si", I say as I take my coat off and rest it on the back of my chair.
How did he know??
He disappears through the swinging doors into the back.
I'm so excited to eat this pizza, it's not even funny.
As I patiently wait for my pizza, I watch Italian families eating and talking so passionately to each other. A family of 8 to my left, a cute elderly couple straight ahead. These are the thoughts in my head; I love Italy so much. What a great lifestyle. I could live here happily. I felt extremely relieved to be here after coming from depressingly cruel Morocco. The laid back atmosphere of Italy makes me drunk with happiness. Italy makes me feel sexy.
Soon, my waiter magically appears from the back, carrying a huge saucer of pizza goodness. It's thin, but large. The aroma fills my nostrils and brings back every pizza memory I've ever had. "Buon appetito", he says while smiling. His eyes twinkle.
"Grazie", I respond, staring at this mixture of bread, red tomato sauce, white mozzarella and green basil before me.
I grab my camera and snap a picture quick. My waiter snatches my camera from me and takes a pic with me and my pie of perfection. The Italian family of 8 to my left look back and smile adoringly at me. It's obvious at this point that I am a tourist. They see my vulnerability and, throughout my meal, keep looking back at me and smiling warmly as if I'm a cute puppy. Italians are very welcoming people. I love them.
Holding a fork in one hand and a knife in the other, I tear into my pizza.

The first bite I take makes my eyes roll into the back of my head. Indescribable flavors explode on my taste buds. I close my eyes as I try to comprehend the level of goodness this pizza has achieved. The ingredients are the freshest of the fresh. I can taste the influence of the wood burning oven. The crust is almost the consistency of a crepe and it melts in my mouth. The mozzarella is gooey and pairs well with the fresh tomato sauce mixed with mystery spices. The basil is a perfect accent to this wheel of wonder. This is possibly the best thing I've ever eaten in my 31 years on this earth.
Italian phrases fly through my head.
"Bellisimo!"
"Perfetto!"
"Bella!"
I resist the urge to yell these phrases out while holding my hand up, pinching my fingers together Italian style.

Soon, I lose all touch with reality and forget I'm even eating in a restaurant. I catch myself staring lovingly at my magnificent pizza pie. I'm in heaven. It's so good, it should be illegal. This has ruined Domino's, Pizza Hut and every other sub par pizza chain for me. There is no comparison. Da Michele puts them ALL to shame.
Da Michele is Da bomb.
As I chew the last bite, I think, "I don't want this to be over." It was like parting ways with a new lover.
When can we see each other again? Tomorrow?
But that's so far away.....
I love you!
It takes me over 30 minutes to eat this humongous heavenly creation. Mangio lenta. (I eat slow)
I put my fork down, lick my lips and lean back in my chair. Unbelievable. I'm honored to have this pizza in my stomach.
My bill was a measly 4 euros, but I would have easily forked out €20 for this near out-of-body experience.
The next night, I eat another large pie with 2 travelers, an Australian and a Korean girl, at another restaurant that was supposed to be the undisputed best pizza in Naples. It was also wildly delicious, but Da Michele was still a hair better. It was my first love, what can I say. It will always be special.
I skip back to the hotel with my new Korean friend, both of us are eating 2 scoops of gelato in a dish. I wonder when my body shape will begin to reflect my indulgences, the same way it did for the Eat, Pray, Love lady. Then I remember, there is no such thing as calories when you're on vacation!
Mama mia! I will never forget my love affair with that pizza pie.
Until we meet again, my Italian lover :)