It's-a Me, Mario!

Once upon a time, 

Five girls moved into an apartment together in Vienna.  Although they were able to subside on Nutella and Nutella alone for a couple (okay, like ten) days, soon their bodies began to protest.  "Give us something that isn't made out of hazlenuts!" their stomachs screamed.  "Something!  Anything!"  

"But we're too tired to cook, and going out is so expensive," the girls countered.  

Luckily, Nina the R.A. stepped in with a brilliant suggestion.  "There's a pizza place just up the street, girls," she said.  "Mario is really nice and he will make friends with you... plus, it's cheap!"  

A stranger who would actually talk to us?  Cheap food?  Better yet, cheap PIZZA?!  We scrambled wildly to pull on our boots and coats, tore down the stairs, and made the approximate 30-second hike to our destination: Pizzeria Vesuvio da Mario.

As you may see from the outside, Mario's is decorated quite festively.  And if you think the outside is beautiful... well, you obviously haven't been inside.  

Mario is a rebel among Italian restaurant owners by straying far from the "rustic Tuscany" theme.  The empty wine bottles with candles in them, loaves of fake bread in wicker baskets, accordion music, and fake oil paintings are nowhere to be found at Mario's.  Rather, the decor is delightfully varied and full of surprises.  

Our usual spot-- in the corner right by the big pizza oven-- is one of those nice, cozy, sticky black vinyl booths pushed up against a tableclothed table.  Fancy!  Our table is always beautifully decorated with a Christmas-red taper candle, lit by Mario himself whenever he comes to take our order, and flanked on either side with ridiculous fake red and white poinsettias dusted with gold glitter.  

The walls are covered in beautiful artwork: scenery that was ripped from last month's calendar page, creepy posters of clowns, contact paper cut into the shape of Roman architecture... but the best part is the coastal-themed decorations that pop up among the rest of the madness.  There is a fishing net filled with fake seashells and starfish on the ceiling, and LOBSTERS LOBSTERS everywhere!  There are big red plastic 3-D lobsters stuck all over the wall.  No one is sure why, but we certainly do love them.  

As beautiful as the restaurant is, nothing compares to Mario himself.  

Mario has a great mustache, wears sweater vests every day, and tells everyone he's Italian.  We, on the other hand, are pretty positive that he's Turkish and his name is Ahmed or something.  But we let him pretend, and so he says things like "Prego!" and hums "'A Vucchella" while he throws pizza dough up in the air. 

He is one of the most hospitable people we've met here (he obviously cherishes our friendship, not the fact that we show up at his doorstep at least once, often twice, a week) and treats us well whenever we come in.  We always get kisses on both cheeks, free shots that taste like Robutussin, and a plea to "come back and make with your friends a big party" in the always-empty party room.

Mario even has an apartment above the restaurant that he rents out short-term for way cheaper than a hotel, so my mom is going to (bravely!) stay there when she comes in March.  I took a tour the other day, and it is exactly what I was expecting from a decorator like Mario.  Think posters of baby animals, Jesus, and sand-covered beach babes hanging above Asian-fusion inspired furniture and bedspreads straight off of the set of Full House.  

Mario also has a killer Web site with a picture gallery where you can see some of his photo ops with various guests.  All of this typing about Mario's has made me terribly hungry, so until next time-- I leave you with this link.  Ciao!