June 15 - June 18 Firenze Fashion Victim

My trip from Bologna to Firenze was reasonably uneventful, aside from the nagging heat, the only point of excitement was on platform 3 in bologna station where ... having managed to secure a patch of shade i sat and watched the other passengers arrive and fumble around like fools just like i did... when suddenly,.. he emerged from the underpass,.. the last of the great exploreres,.. this was an american tourist who had obviously spent some time studying old tarzan movies before selecting the appropriate garments to accompany him on his no doubt adventure packed package tour of italy... i dont think kontiki stop in bologna.. maybe he is a scout for future expeditions. Now he wasnt wearing a pith helmet,.. but if you were thinking along those lines you would have been rather close because i would wager florence's coldest beer on the fact that he had forgotten the helmet on a bus somewhere because the outfit was screaming for it. I managed to keep the amusement internalised until, in a swift well practiced manouvre he turned moved both hands behand his back and opened the vents that ran along side his outdoorsmans jacket allowing the cool breeze which would no doubt soon emerge as predicted by his instruments to cool him down... this guy was tall too, and this is mne telling you he is tall... and im tall... the unzipping process was swiftly executed but still took a good 2 seconds to complete. Immediately after this i had moved into a reclining position and threw out one of the best belly laughs i have unleashed on this continent, ... i was alone in my outpouring of emotion but that didnt hold me back, his eurostar train should be just about pulling into some rugged tanzanian station about now.

Arrived in Firenze on Sunday afternoon and quickly tracked down my lodgings Sense of direction was spot on this time, room was ok, shower wasnt a shoe box, usual 3 star fire trap rabbit warren of buildings. As it so happens my roommate from Urbania Ben would be in Firenze and we had planned to meet at the you guessed it duomo, I of course4 waited nearby not wanting to give the japanese schoolgirls too much of a chance to photograph me... Ben swaggerred towards me, the confidence of a loca, having spent 8 months or so here as a student and even working one of the god damn souvenir stands on the ponte vecchio of all places.

Ben gave me a guided tour of the sites, we didnt venture into anything other than the odd gelateria but that suited me. We made it to a little bar in sant spirito ... which is on the (gasp) other side of the Arno and met with Samir and some other locals, Samir works the souvenir stand at the middle of the ponte vecchio and was an all round top bloke brought me a beer and all, now thats just top.

After 3 or 4 ales the 20 minute walk to the shack Ben had picked for din dins that night became a 35 minute stagger, i know this muich.. it was in santa croce, behind the church and the piazza. The regular calcio storico games take place on the piazza in front of santa croce church and yeah we had missed it... calcio storico is the italians justification for claiming the right to call themselves the originators of the game of soccer. Now calcio storic occasionally looks like soccer, but more often resembles an organised beating

Dinner was ok, but i started to get bad feelings about this towm, when the waitress who turned out to be Irish, was commenting on our Italian Having surviuved the tourist throngs in venezia i thought that florence would be a sinch, but alas no, it had found my weakness.

The next 2 days helped reinforce this thought in many ways. Sure venice is a tourist town, sure its hard to find people who are native italians and speak to you in italian. But the city itself has a spirit that has endured and which mocks the tourists that come there stay for 3 days and think they understand what makes the town tick. I havent sensed such a spirit in florence, yes there are stupifying landmarks and no doubt the worlds best art, but the city is sparce and the spaces between these highlights are to me totally demorialising.

Adding to my bitterness were 2 things,. 1 a bi-annual fashion extravanganze happened to be running in firenze on the days in which i wanted to find accomodation. The Pitti uomo is the mens fashion event and therefore every stick of accomodation in the town had been snapped up by some gutter dwelling industry type. Of my 3 days in florence i spent at least 1 walking around looking for accomodation or on the phone asking about it... what a treat.

The second of my 3 days in firenze was spent in my bedroom in bed. The heatwave broke with a ferocious storm on Monday afternoon, i stood in the rain watching steam rise off everything, it was a truly joyous 30 minutes or so, not an umbrella in sight, it even took the moroccans a good hour before they started trying to sell you little fold up brollies,.. actually at 3 euro a piece they were probably providing a public service for a change... but then again i didnt buy one.

I returned to my bedroom soaked to the skin, opened the door ro my personal space and was greeted by a strong blast of cold air courtesy of my air conditioner, i switched it off, opened the windows squelched my way onto the bed and actually slept for an hour happy to let the mozzies feast on me. I awoke feeling good, feeling better about the town, had a shower and went about the usual process of appropriate attention being giving to various body parts. I bent down to search for garments when an almighty force tore into my back, suffering chronic backpain i know all about the occasional tightness and spike of pain but this was a new world, i slumped to the floor, .. not an easy feat in itself in this bathroom and let the pain organise itself into a committe and write a declaration of wart on the back of my brain.

I think i used my finger tips to drag me along the floor and to a space in which i could stretch out. I couldnt move my back at all, but felt no pain when stretched out flat so i was able to laugh... laughter is the best medicine,.. pigs ass it is. I could see the phone cable makes its way to the top of the bedside table,.. i reached for it and gave it a good tug, the lamp that landed on my face made it immediately apprent that this wasnt the phone cable. I could see the phone cable make its way to the top of the bediside table,.. i knew for sure it was the bedside cable as the lamp was now sitting on my chest... i tugged at it figuring what else could go wrong.

I dialled reception and in my pain found that my italian had improved, i dropped the odd swear word, told the guy i couldnt walk and used some of the phrases the beggars have used to appeal for assistance. He explained to me that all they had was aspirin but he would bring that up to my room ''pronto'' that means fast in this town.

He emerged complete with cup of water and a look of grave concern covered his face, yes i had not had the opportunity to put my pants on... thats makes 2 unsuspecting italians i have exposed myself to, way to go. Turns out that the word voltaren translates directly into italian, they change the pronunciation of course... typical,.. but i had to procure some of the goodness that only voltaren could provide. Signore from reception couldnt help me as he was the only person running the hotel, and the only farmacia that would definitely be open at this time was back at the train station.

I swallowed the aspirin, waited 15 minutes gritted my teeth and made my way down 4 flights of stairs to reception, he wished me luck, apologised again that he couldnt help more,.. i lied and said oh youve done so much.. and walked out into the tourists. Next door to the hotel was a 24 hour bar, these are handy as they serve alcohol... i walked up to the counter and said ''grappa'' she replied with about 5 words .. i replied with '' non lo so,... grappa!'' she placed one before me... i swallowed it and said '' un altro'' she saw it coming so had the bottle in her hand, i repeated this process once more and now found myself able to mmove my head back to the normal working angle and yes feet could be placed one generally in front of the other without too much ball tearing pain.

I swaggerred my way to the farmacia at the station and up to the counter, hey i was so lucid i even remembered that i had lost my toothbrush during the exods from my last hotel in bologna and looked through the vast array of brushes they had availabel and selected my appropriate weapon.

The pharmacist helped me out, got me my vol-ta-ren but just as i was about to pay she asked me if i had been drinking... i explained to her that i wa in a great deal of pain, this was made apparent by the fact that half of my 3rd grappa was actually located between my goatee and my shirt. She was well trained and refused to give me the pills if i had just had a drink, i got a bit upset, she said go get some food and i will give you the pills... and o i procured the worst 2 slices of pizza any person has paid money for from one of the bars on the platforms came back to the window of the farmacia, tapped a few coins aginst it to draw more attention to myself and chowed down on said slices. She kep her end of the bargain,.. gave me the pills i had 3 at the counter and went outside to let the lovely volatern cloud come and sweep all the bad stuff away... 10 minutes later,.. it did... right on cue, i toook the opportunity to head back to the hotel and prepare myself for a night of motionlesness... oh yeah.. the tv remote doesnt work either.

June 12 - June 14 Bologna

The heatwave that has swamped this part of italy continues unabated, it gets to about 40 on most days but the humidity and the breezelessness of it all make it hard to deal with. Despite this i have managed to do more wandering but as the days passed this has become rather aimless. There has been some interesting indulging in the food and bevvy departments however.

The highlights were, a simple gnocci gorgonzola, with walnuts, a single layer of home made gnocci coated with a thick gorgonzola sauce covering 2 thirds of a large plate with a sprinkling of parsley and basil scattering the portion of the plate closest to its consumer, marvellous,.. followed this up with salsicce grilliata, which translats as grilled snags,.. but these were magic, char grilled and hefty.

Another massive highlight in both the financial and flavour stakes was a roasted scallop dish i had at the NU Big scallops roasted in shell with basil and a sprinkling of cheese,.. biggest scallops i have ever had which is usually a bad sign but these were full and flaboursome,.. there were only 3 on the plate and the pire was 19 euro... ouch.

Also at the NU managed to scvoff down a carpaccio of octopus, ultra thin slices of pussy surrounded by bolied taters, olive oil and balsamic on the table and lemon and basil in the dish, have never had octopus served this way, probably doesnt beat several slabs of the stuff on the barbie with a six pack of beer but it was excellent. Also knocked back a Bologna specialty their torta riso, which was nothing like i expected, mor elike a flan, savoury with a dusting of icing sugar, tasted very greek, didnt mention this to my host. As this was my last day in bologna i bid farewell to Toni and his crew at Nu Hotel, top bloke all round, he plans to head down to australia and gave me his email address. Toni spent 20 years in France and the menu and his knowledge show it, has friends in noumea and knows he will visit them one day and promised to make the journey further south, i convinced him to stop over in melbourne for food and wine once he had gotten sick of the harbour bridge and the sights of sydney.

Tonight bologna is holding a massive concert in piazza maggiore along with fireworks at 21:00, I told them not to go to too much trouble, but they insisted .. these crazy italians.

Tomorrow its off to Firenze for at least a few days, as it happens my roomy from Urbania Ben just so happens to be in Florence for a few days, which is good for several reasons, but mainly it gives me another chance to see the guy before we move continents and also the fact that he knows Firenze very well hasnt escaped me, wouldnt mind setting up base there for a few weeks whilst i explore the area.

And finally some pics

Courtesy of relatively cheap and speedy net access in Bologna plus a few tricks on my part to get past the security they have setup on the workstations.

Rome:
Took a lot of video in Rome and i wont bore you with long shots of the colloseum
colloseum slab | Internal collosseum | view from trastevere hill -1- and -2-

Urbania:
that bridge where | I spent a lot of mornings | thinking about shit | and who can blame me | Urbania view -1- and -2- AND -3-

The Stranieri hanging out at Bar Centrale
Ben Jess Jen | Jess Mehdy and Jen | Mehdy and Jen | Goodbye Urbania

That day in Apecchio
The crew Manu Mehdy Ben and Monia | Ben and Manu discuss what a cool guy i am | Getting down with the insinianti |

Venezia
will i fit? | Piazza san Marco portico -- Florian | paint shop | A steal at 20,000 euro | these things are everywhere | Piazza San Marco at night | Battle of the tourist bands | they didnt know any guns n roses | Pretentious shot of door | Gondola chunks | a tourist was photographing this

Thats it for now kids, sorry about size and darkness on a few of these,.. dont have the tools to fart about with them from here... fiddle with knobs on your monitor for now.. blame it on the IT department.

June 11 Bologna - I drive better when i am drunk.

The heat wave continues but the desire to feast upon the local food and bevvy is still strong. The other day i wandered into the nizzarely named ''nu lounge bar' which is right up there with the strange english names for businesses, My other favourite in this category is the ''PIZZA UP!'' in Urbania but the winnder has to be Italian mobile phone company called ''WIND'' thats wind like the breeze not like the clock, they have large banners around the place which simply say ''avete wind?'' translating, without need for massaging into '' do you have wind?''

At the nu i dined on carpaccio with carciofi and rucola, its the second time i have had carpacio here and both times its more like a slab of raw meat that gets delivered to you rather than the thin shavings i had become accustomed to in australia, but accompanied by the local oil and cheese it went down an sbolute treat, knocked down a couple of glasses of (gasp) semillon and one of the local semifreddo with chocolate specialties and i was anyones.

So nicely sloshed and with no real desire to head back out into the sunshine i outstayed my welcome to the point where the owner tony came over and asked me a few questions,.. most of which i understood and was able to respond to... i made the mistake of asking about one of the waitresses, he said ''that would be my wife'' but i managed to weazel my way out of it and suggest that i was referring to the other waitress who obviously wasnt italian... ''ah yes she is german'' and he invites her over for a drink... her italian was better than her english but also better than mine so we sat and talked about how she managed to wind up in bologna... again they all seemed fascinated by australia, despite my efforts to tell them that there really wasnt anything to be fascinated by other than the physical landscape of the place... but they all seem to yearn for empty space, where as we seem to yearn to spend time crammed into tiny interesting spaces wondering why the locals dont appreciate the culture that surrounds them.

It's kind of like Tasmania,... which is intersting because so few things are... We mainlanders think of tasmania as this beautiful untouched paradise a treasure which must be preserved at any cost in todays dollars, whereas the locals have to live there and after a few years of waking up to views across the mountains you learn to build houses facing away from them because thats the direction the cold winds come from and you dump your rubbish in the river because the council want you to pay extra to have the rubbish collected from outside your driveway.

I passed a few hours with my new german italian english speaking friends, she took me to the public which houses an old anatomy lecture theatre complete with wooden statues of skinned blokes and 3 rows of wooden seats arranged arouind a cold marble slab ) i didnt lie down on this one ) she asked if she could take a few photos of me, cant say i blame her cos i am freaking gorgeous... will have to keep an eye out for her exhibition when i make it up north to deutchand.

June 10 - Bums and Bombs

It usually takes around 3 days for the town drunks to start to speak to me. This formula held true in bologna. I was sitting in piazza maggiore early on sunday morning watching the shandows grow shorter across the town square, the bums and beggars circling the square holding their neatly printed cards asking for money for a whole host of causes, they would come close enough to confirm their suspicions about my origins and them move away.

Three days later and a few 1c coins cast into eager receptacles its waves and tipping of hats to the wandering Mr Ziz. My favourite,.. well if i had to choose just one i wouldnt id list them all... thereùs the guy who has a very neatly presented full beard and an uncannily steven wright like delivery, hat in hand he approaches passers by and im a perfect monotone says osmething along the lines of ''help me with something for the purposes of eating'' which sounds somewhat more poteic in italian. Unlike the Roman beggars he hasnt bothered gettiong a grant to translate his plea into other languages and also unlike the roamn beggars he doesnt throw 1 euro cent coins back at you. The beggars here are very mobile, i swear they must run down the quiet lanes in order to swing back for another passage along the tourist strips, this is a opposed to the venetian beggars who think they are competing for some kind of human statue award,.. in fact there is a rather famous human statue in venice who operates only 50 metres away from one of these motionless beggars,.. he leans against a wall in a long robe which allows him to move his hands and scratch the odd nbut, whilst the beggar sits on his knees one hand stretched out carrying a heavy cup in which to receive coins... and yet the tourists are paying the busking human statue full euro coins and turning their noses up at the beggar... where's the justice.

Along side piazza maggiore is piazza nettuno, so called because of the rather large and ornate statue of neptune and attendants in the centre of the fountain... impressive... but near this fountain is the standard wall of honour for those who gave their lives to world warr 2, these are usually quite impressive displays complete with small photos of those who died either in action or in complete inaction during the war. Near this memorial in Bolgona is a smaller, less ornate glass plaque paying respects to the 80 or so people who deid in the bombing of the bologna train station in August 1980. After a few minutes attempting to translate the inscription on the plaque i was joined by an elderly local who looked me straight in the eyes, pointed at the plaque and rather angrily suggested that i had no business reading it as a foreginer because i couldnt understand the significance of the event. I looked at him, subtracted 23 years from his life and saw a man who may well have been closer to the incident than first seemed,.. i tried to be polite but strangled by the language barrier i may have come across rather abruptly.

He asked me to read the plaque, whcih was lucky for me because i can fool just about anyone with my italian pronunciation as long as they arent too many pesky letter c's... so i turned on my best exaggerated italian and read the plaque back to him. This seemed to calm him down somewhat, but also managed to attract the attention of 2 or 3 other gentlemen who would otherwise have simply passed by another tourist pretending to read something which they dont understand. They stopped and started a conversation with the gentlemen, they (obviously) held a different view to himself and believed that it was good for foreigners to come here and be interested in the history of the town and who show respect, he agreed but found something to disagree with and the hand waving increased along with the velocity of the conversation which combined to a sharp drop in my comprehension of what was being discussed,.. as the gestures in my direction grew less frequent I made my way further along the piazza.

Bologna

Despite the heatwave I managed to haul my ass around this town several times. Assisting me in this endeavour was several centuries of sensible town planning. The entire centro storico of bologna is made up of porticoed buildings which allows for plenty of shade and places to sit and also maufactures pleasing breezes which tickle the seat on your brow and somehow trick you into thinking that 25 degrees aint so bad after all.

In contrast to this is the town's main square, piazza maggiore, a slab or concrete big enough to have a footy match in.

Bologna is home to Europe's oldest university, formed about 1000 years ago to argue about how to split up the cash the church was making... gee so glad they sorted that problem out once and for all... Bologna is also home to just about every left wing political movement and lobby group in italy and the town is not too over the moon about italy's current political saviour... In fact Mr Berlusconi os mocked quite publicly and i challenge anyone to find a copy of one of his newspapers for sale in this town, i have seen one copy of the corriere della sera whilst staying here and that was in the corner of the breakfast room in the 4 star hotel i was staying in when i first landed in this town. Most people that prefer their news on dead trees get to a copy of La Repubblica and its certainly the only paper you see advertised at the edicole around town.

The other advantage of the uni town is the fairly active nightlife and spirit of the town itself. Young, smart people wandering about arguing the point or just being pretty, lots of languages and culture all trying to hammer themselves into something that can loosely be called italian society. I am over the cobblestones and ancient walls, i look into the eyes of the poeple now and allow myself to be washed away by their passion their anger, contempt, joy, conflict, pessimism, hope and contradiction,.. this is what makes a culture, its not a formula, it's a cacophany of choices which when viewed from a distance all point towards the one destiny. This destiny isnt corruptible by the desires ofa single person, sure each person has their say and can influence others but you cant sway a culture just because you dont like something about it,.. it takes numbers, it takes time as much time as it took to develop the thing in the firstplace.

I have always been amazed by how impatient australians are to manufacture a culture for our country, i am certainly in no hurry, yes i think its important to discuss these things but not so we can come up with a consensus on where our cultural identity lies, to do so would mean to take a vote on which cricket player best captures the australian spriti... none of them do... none of them can... we cant decide how many australians need to die in a war before we can feel that we have contributed to the worlds development,.. thats a ridiculous notion, we cant conjure up history, conflict, resolution peace and tension, we just have to get throught it like every other society throughout history.

Hmm... back to Bologna now.

June 7 Off to Bologna

Caght the train from Venice to Bologna on Saturday morning thinking wow what agreat little trup to bologna this is going to be... peaceful, i dont even have to put my pack up on the rack, calm, tranquil,.. i can even hear the birds in the trees as we pass them by... and as we approached mestre,.. i could spend a few seconds trying to recognise the strange noise which was getting louder it sounds like... hmm.. i dont know... oh yes i do.

It sounds like about 1,000 soccer fans making the trip to bologna for the last of the serie A games for the season, 1,000 hot and sweaty, smoking, horn blowing fans, most of which chose my carriage from which to abuse the anto smoking policy that the italian train system had in place..

The horror quickly subsided however, they were young and raucous but by and large a good bunch of people... chanting, waving flags,.. comparing flares (of the non panteloon variety) and generally being a good way to pass the time whilst travelling through the otherwise flat and relatively uninteresting countryside between venezia and bologna. The other bonus was that the girls who frequent soccer matches have taken to imitating brazilian soccer fans, the yellow brasil t shirt tied just below the jubblies, whistles, hot pants and dancing queens... yes one wasnt game to get the camera out in the confines of the carriage im sorry to say sports fans, but i am happy to give those interested a minute by minute description.

I brought the weather with me to Bologna, arrived at around 2:30 to 35 degree heat and figured the 2km walk to my hotel wasnt going to be a good introduction to the town, a quick tour of the bustilng and apparently very dodgy train station and i taxied my ass off to 4 star luxury. Was greeted by an indian receptionist who spoke lovely italiam amd better english than most of the english i have met,... she was a pom of course and laughed when i suggested that she had never been back to india... she wasnt into banghra so we quickly ran out of things to discuss until she asked me what i did for a living.... i dont remember the batch oif lies i extracted from my ass but they began with me asking ''which name i had booked my room under''

This seemed like a good idea at the time,.. smalltalk with the staff and all,.. but i recalled my encounter with the carabinieri in venezia,.. i dont think i was game to mention it here but suffice to say that the piazza san marco was subject to a ''credible'' terrorist threat... i didnt ask whether the terrorists or their threat was the credible bit,.. i uess both. But the carabinieri were interested in speaking with solo non italian travellers who had changed hotels within venice on or about monday June 2. o yes on the thursday evening my time had come and the nice carabinieri types sat me down in the bar of my hotel with a few other stranieri to have a chat... i was the only one who asked for an espresso,.. i foolishly thought this would impress them... some german kid started to cry... they asked me what i was doing in italy, i told them i was here to meet chicks.. they said... no seriously... i said, yes seriously .-.. i didnt say i was going to be succesful.

They have some fabulous uniforms them carabinieri, once again i didnt think this was a photo opportunity, but they did take the chance to have a look at the holiday snapshots i had taken,.. i guess passing up the chance to take a few snapshots of the guy selling mussolini posters and cufflinks was a good call after all.

June 3 -June 6 - Venezia

Tips for being alone in the city of love

Venice is not the city to head for if you are on your own and the type of person that enjoys the company of members of the opposite sex but is unable to acquire said company and the drop of a gondola... however, it is a pretty place so for those loners like there that plan to spend some time here, learn from my finite but poignant wisdom

You will generally get by without breaking down into tears as long as you dont spend too much time on dimly lit canal bridges, or frequent restaurants that people who would otherwise be spending tiem on dimly lit bridges eat at.

Saying the words ''sono solo sta sera'' may sound poetic to the foreign ear but they are a sad combination of parole italiani ... in this town when you utter words to this effect after entering a restaurant you are immediately ushered away from the eye gazing couple which adhere to the street side tables and are usually sent to a seat where you can usually at least see the outside world but usually are part of the ashtray or napkin storage area,.. i guess this is to minimise the pain that you may undergo by having to watch people being happy sharing expensive cocktails deliberating over whether cozze are mussles or some kind of mushroom or arguing about why the fella always refers to the map... ( i ditched my map days ago,.. im not bragging.. its just rather useless)

Once you are seated various adjustments are made to your personal space,.. firstly the waiter whisks away the glassware, cutlery and napkins from the vacant side of your table, this is to remind you that there is something missing in your paultry existence, a void, an aperture which you have neglected and which may become infected and lead to serious harm unless you do something about it. Everyone else is now aware that you are alone, you cant pour a sip of wine into the spare glass and pretend that your beautiful dinner partner has merely popped out to speak to the amassed throng of foreig journalists or deal with a problem the chef has with tonights souffles.

No buddy, you aint gonna fool anyone.

But you have the chair, the chair, it sits there staring at you, a constant reminder of the fact that yuou cant manufacture shared experience despite how seasoned a traveller you are, how refined your tastes or profound your knowledge of local customs, ethics and culture.

The shape of the chair will vary, some are short and stout, motherly, the kind of chair you would turn to when you needed advice, a hug, or got your thumb caught in a blender again, others are tall and slender and have southern accetns, they knock you off your feet and make you think of a world you never knew existed, these are the kinds of chairs you pass by thinking i will sit with that chair next time i see it,.. but of course that day rarely comes... Other chairs are a flamboyant aray of angles, material colours and form, you keep hoping that they are just shallow but you keep wanting to be with them and learn more about the simple complexity of their world.

But the shoulders of the beautiful chair are always there, peering back at you over the top of your table, waiting patiently for you to come up with a witty anecdote, say something inspirational anout the things you have seen today, the smells from the fish market intermingling with those from the pasticerria, the sunlight reflecting off the canal and onto the ceiling off the casa on the bank, the things americans say to people they think cant speak english.

You can say this things, you can think them up, you can write them down, but nobody will be there to understand them.

This is not necessarily a bad thing, but a thing you must come to terms with.

For me this is the end of the line in Venice, tomorrow I am off to Bologna for at least 3 nights and then will probably leapfrog ,my way through Toscana to siena, but then again thats one advantage of travelling alone, i really dont know where i am going, but for once .. thats a good thing.

whats wrong with you people down there they should just arrest the guy who thinks his fridge magnet tells him how to analyse people.

imagine having mud on your boots, there could have been an atomic bomb in that mud... you can cover just about anything with mud... ive seen them do it..

If you cant be a mindless dickhead in Australia then where the hell am I supposed to live!!!

June 1 -2 - Venezia

All i wanted to do was get lost in venice, it didnt take long, in fact i am typing this right now thinking hey its dark out now... how the hell am i going to get back to my 159 euro a night cupboard for a nap? But what better city to get lost in, wandering past rumbling doorways that you swore you just walked past a few minutes ago and which you probably did. Doing stupid things like using the armani store in san marco as a marker,.. aha... yep.. there are 3, or the even more sutpid mistake,.. following the tourist reading the map.

My first 2 days were spent in the Hotel Hesperia which is far enoguh from the station to be quiet but doesnt require you to lug your luggage over canals ... clever hey.. and it was a nice place,.. interesting rooms,.. nice people... real coffee for breakfast... so my first 2 days were spent walking through the jewish ghetto and making the trek on foot from ferrovia to rialto and piazza san marco.

It was on such a journey that I met mario and his care giver, whose name i never caught.

Mario had some issues, he was short and stocky, he was fat and really hadnt kept himself in good shape,.. but it seems that today was the day that mario wanted to break free from the shackles that had bound him, and I played my part.

Strolling along the canareggio canal towards tourist land i saw a small dog appear from a doorway, its little legs only barely keeping its belly from the pavement, it looked to its right saw nothing .. looked to its left ... saw me... figured i was the safer bet and sprinted madly towards me, seconds later the frantic screams of mario mario mario expolded from the sam doorway from where emerged a woman who although a difference species did resemble mario in stature and certainly in speed... mario shuffled headloing towards his destiny, she shuffled like a madwoman after him,.. mario mario mario... i had time to assess the situation and thought... aha... i can help this poor hapless local who has lost her dog, surely the only source of income for her and her starving... err...sparrows...i moved swiftly into position... stepping in front of mario and his dash for freedom,.. mario took onle last look at his prize amd moved his gaze towards me, the expression puppy dog eyes is a cliche but cliches become cliches for a reason.. this was the reason.

However stumbling care giver was not satisfied with merely a distriaction she wanted mario in her posession, custody she wanted him back in the chains which he had lived all his life, she even had the keys with her i could hear them jangling during the pauses in her cackling... she continued ... mario mario mario.

Mario leaned one way and moved the other and implanted the thought that he may have rabies into my mind to make a getaway,.. but he didnt count on another australian traveller who had also scouted the situation and saw a chance to impression the locals. He lunged at mario forcing him backwards into the path of ... of that woman... mario had no choice... h had come this far and was going to be free without second throught he plunged.

We leaned .. over the edge of the canal ... a drinking straw, a piece of miscellaneous plastic,.. some patented veneziano floating scum... but no mario... still the mad womans screams continued... mario ... mario.... mario...

We waited for at least a minute ... but mario was free,.. my companion turned to me and spoke a few words in his honour ''lets get the fuck out of here man''

I am for 6 days, lets hope i dont kill ... again.

Saturday May 31 Urbania - Pesaro

On saturday morning i packed my worldly possessions into the old fairydown and headed off for more adventures,.. i was kind of looking forward to leaving the sactuary that urbania had become, although there was still much to experience and we had put together a nice little posse the sands of time theory was always going to win and i whisked myself away while the stranieri slept in their uncomfotable beds.

The last time i was in Pesaro was the weekend before the course began, so i was familiar with the layout of the town, the bars near the station etc... and now i had a bit of italian wih me as well... the experience was much more appealing.. i bounced up to the ticket ounter at the station,.. booked my ticket for venice got snappy when the girl behind the counter told me i would have to go to anopther counter for a seat reservation... went to the bar and ordered coffee, mineral water and yeah why not a focaccia and i could sweat the girl had the gee he doesnt look italian look on her face.

Yes some progreess had been made,.. the guy who stumbled into that roman bar in trastevere makign every error possible 5 weeks ago had died and left the planet.

Pesaro, lovely town alongside the adriatic,.. it aint Fano and it aint Rimini but buggerred if i can tell what on earth the difference is.. there is what they pass as sand, sea and sun... but i realise i am no espert on the subject... so... i sat in bar in the shade of a dot dot dot tree... sipping some kind of bevande watching the chicks walk past adjusting themselves like the trained proffesionasl that they are, had enough of that and was about to leave when some goddess type thing landed her spaceship next to me and came into the bar, she stood next to me talking to the barman... the heat radiated off her body ... and i didnt even have my face that close to her.. ok i moved a little closer... but not too close.. really... i mean ... yeah.

My confidence evaporated after her third, ''this smile is brought to you by the city of pesaro'' moment and i headed off to find that caffe, and yes... my sixth sense kicked in,..turned off the main road,.. turned away from the church and there it was... darn i almost told you its name... cant do that... this is gold... the sounds of coffee cups being stacked and the coffee grinder at work,.. 6 tables all under umbrellas a small piazza complete with leafy trees, sleeping dogs, vespa and an old woman sitting in her first floor window singing or praying or doing something noisy.

If nothing else happened in pesaro and you can bet your ass it didnt! i would be happy and take fond memories into my head long plunge into that tourist land where italian is rarely heard... venezia

Day 30 - Friday May 30 - i never could count

Friday was the final day in my course in Urbania... whenver somebody has stopped long enough to listen i have ben using the analogy of a brick wall to describe my grasp of the italian language... how so you ask? Well,.. having been around italians italianness and italianism for my entire existense i have picked up loads of vocabulary which i stoed in a large pile,.. we shall call these ... bricks... after some basic schooling i have managed to arrange the se words into simple phrases, sentenses or what i like to call... a wall... or more correctly a garden edging... now this wall looksed ok,.. people would pass it thinking yeah theres that wall again, seen more like that one somewhere ah yeah just over there... as long as nobody leaned on it, played soccer against it, attempted to construct a swimming pool grandstand using it as support it basically worked as a wall... oh,.. water management was also right out...

my wall had lots of bricks but nothing holding it together,...sheesh do i have to spell out everything for you people...

well now.. after some intensive schooling... which i refer to cement... parts of my wall are kind of secure, parts are patchy,.. and others have had the bricks broken down and bright yellow and red tape used to keep tourists away from the area...

I am pretty happy with how the course went, dur to the fact that my conversation teacher was a bit of a tool ... actually he is a tool, a sidchrome 12'' shifter, my conversation skills arent quite what i hoped they would be, but you dont want somebody like me randomly going up to the locals and actually communicating with them now do you... see they had it all planned.

Day 28 - Apecchio

OK so i am going to owe a lot of favors for this trip, and the karma meter i have been talking about is now so far in the red that i understand a small committee has been formed some place to try and find the most efficient way that my debt can be repayed and the just order of the universe restored.

Apecchio is a lovely small town about 20 minutes drive West of Urbania on the border of Marche and Toscana,.. the fact that it is pretty wont come as a great shock to anyone... the fact that it was the first time i had managed to lay my eyes on the rolling green hills of tuscany certainly did come as a shock to me ... but im not going to attempt to describe tuscan nhills on the fly in an internet cafe... uhuh... not falling for that one.... go read a book do a net search and come back in a few minutes.

On this day I along with 2 other classmates were fortunate enough to accompany 2 of our teachers to a retaurant tucked away in said tuscan(esque) hills, this was an old house on a dirt track off a drt track off a sidestreet, of course there were no students, in fact we were the only people there, in fact there was never any doubt that we were going to be the only people there.

But as I said surroundings arent important, you know those movies where some guy is sitting down at a table eating and drinking all this excellent food that is really simple but you couldn't possibly contemplate preparing or procuring on your own and the women at the table are beautiful with long dark curly hair, the kind of hair that looks like its on its way to some kind of exhibition or is protected by a national trust somewhere, postcard hair, travelogue hair, and she smiles and is fascinated by the fact that you live in this country called Australia because it is so far away and how amazing and exotic it sounds... so you pause and look around, rolling hills, great food, beautiful people and think to yourself... you would rather be trying to find a free carpark spot in chadstone????

Monia, who has been my teacher for the 4 week course and the vivacious Manu dragged fellow classmate and all american rockstar type Mehdy and my housemate and all american top bloke Ben away from quiet Urbania and off to Apecchio for an afternoon of wine, women and song... sure it was all nice and above board, the owner let us loose on his cd collection so a bit of dancing to some really daggy songs including a selection of WHAM classics, he even joined in and spun the girls around a little. The food,.. OK glad to spend some time there... antipasto simple bruscete tomato, cheese, spinach, prosciuto, flat bread with a very salty soft cheese filling,... i didnt dare ask if the cheese was greek. Pasta the varieties always have bizarre names here its not just spaghetti or tagliatelle ... but as i dont recall the technical descriptions subclass and species i will translate it into lygon street lingo we all understand... tortellini woth a very light gorgonzola and funghi sauce, a spaghetti with a basic tomato and basil sauce,.. nothing basic about the taste and some kind of ravioli, spinach and pumpkin with a meat filling pine nuts and more baby basil. Wines, more local red, tasted like a chianti, was absolutely fabulous,.. i know i poo pood chianti back home,.. shoot me if i do so again.. and we rounded it all off with lashings of cherry wine, which is just a knockout... several helpings of a limoncello cream liquour and even yes some more grappa.

But back to action, so there i was in the proverbial tuscan villa spinning my beautiful teacher monia around to the dulcid tones of ''last christmas'' and its not even july!!! sacrilige!!!! i occasionally tear my eyes off her and sneak a glance through a window,.. not a grand window with a terrace just your standard window as you would find in any suburban house back home so abundant is the beauty around here that there is absolutely no reason to make a song and dance about the view.

Again that recuring theme of beauty so heavy so thick that you feel it drag against your throat as you try and absotb it, my mind was constantly on remember this moment mode, and ive got a backlog of memories i am still trying to process. Here is just a sample of them

- sitting in the right hand side of a car driven by somebody you would normally be ogling on a magazine cover
- singing along to italian rock songs and mistranslating phrases to her delight
- translating english songs on the fly and impressing her with your ability to see things
- an old mill in a field of poppies
- streetsigns written in a font so small you have to stop get out of the car and walk up to them to read them
- a dog guarding the casa we were to lunch at bigger than some ponies i have seen and a bark that would make a baritone blush
- walking through the family living room in order to get to the restaurant complete with nonno asleep in the arm chair
- learning how to swear in italian like a local
- testing it out on the owner of the place who corrects your grammar and pours you another wine
- staring at her for so long you think the muscles surrounding your eye will forget how to move
- actually liking wham songs

yes, the beautiful, the perverse the timeless the dog, oh my god the dog.

Later that evening - may 17 2003

Tonight several of us dined at the local osteria la cuco, this is a tiny place big enough to fit bench tables along 2 side walls allowing just enough space for the waitress to serve the tables without bumping into you too often. No menu of course just a rapidly delivered series of dishes in no particular order. Being a small not tourist infested town we sat at table which seats about 10, were joined by a young couple from an adjoining town and had another 4 people join the other end of the table.

What did w you eat what did you eat!!! I haer you cry,.. well,.. we didnt go absolutely nuts much to my disappointment,.. we had to find a balance that people were prepared to pay for,.. so we kep it to a good range of anitpasti and 2 pasta dishes oh and desserts and wines and grappa and some stuff that noone is sure about.

Antipasti,.. several salami and pecorino cheese types,.. no biggy around here, but the smaller salami are nice and meaty not too fatty,.. a kind of cold almost canelloni type crepe filled with a mince of mozarella basil and something which was translated to me as capsicum but was something i couldnt quite place,.. a beautiful orange colour,.. some simple bruschetta with (i was assured) truffle oil, although i could not taste or smell any myself (the area around urbania is famous for truffles,.. tartufi,.. but its not quite the season for it yet).

Pasta we had some ravioli containing a specific grade of basil that they grow around here just for stuffing pasta,.. very subtle and cobined with the olive oil that i think i have described earlier made for an intoxicating mix of flavours,.. the pasta itself contained something which we couldnt agree on,.. almost had a pumpkin like aroma to it, slithers of almonds and maybe a bit too much butter dressed it all. I never caught the name of the second pasta dish,.. but these were big plump ravioli, kind of like agnelloti with procini and other wild mushrooms and some kind of meat, topped with a very light drizzle of a cream based sauce.

Drinkies? Several bottles of the rosso connero that everyone washes things down with around here,.. i must say that i am a lot more impressed with the italian wines than i thought i would be, chianti and tosso connero go down a treat and at about 3 or 4 euro a bottle at the supermarket or bottle shop its better value than back home. We also had some god awful grappa which had a wheaty tate to it,.. it was a scuro and really should have trusted my nose and skipped it... but the drinking experience was saved with a nice bottle of vin santo which i described as a noble reisling not because it is a noble reisling.. it certainly isnt, but it reminds me of a swet lighter sherry,.. the locals soak biscotti in vin santo... why i asked as i downed another glass,.. also had some beautfully fragrant and warming cherry wine and a selection of the delci which was nice but the slices were so small it became rather hard to tell one from another.

At 30 euro a head not a cheap night but a pretty unique experience.

Day 20 - May 19 2003 - inseperabile and vodka

Every monday night the school organises a film screening, last week it was the elephant man which i watched just to listen to the dubbing ... this week was the film inseperable with jeremy irons... this is a painful film made even more so by the painful and hard o follow dialogue (italiano of course), not really interested in talking about the film.

Howevr,.. after,.. dopo,.. the film,.. we ventured to ''bar centrale'' .. now bar centrale is one of the 2 bars that face the main piazza in urbania,.. and although it has outdoor seating and is open late we foreigners tend to frequent it much less than the caffe del teatro just across the street... well on this fresh urbanese night we changed this pattern and stormed the place. Despite what you may think, Italians actually don't drink too much, and the raggazi certainly don't go out for a night of boozing as is the norm back home... This point was made clear to us who leaning at the bar ordered our third beer in the space of about 30 minutes ..

Me: un altro per favore,.. pushing the glass across the bar.
her: un altro? brief look of astonishment crossing her face.
me: si... un... altro... she looks at her watch and reaches for the glass

oh but we hadn't finished, but we were classy... averna, amaretto, campari and some weird american cocktails that are all the rage over there... and then chris asks about the vodka... Vodka, like most spirits is cheap here,.. a litre of vodka con linone is about 7 euro,.. and its freezable and quite drinkable, limoncello and the like are kind of laughed at but still go down a treat... but like most places the vodka isnt stored in the freezer,.. in fact on the back of most vodka bottles i have seen it says dont put this in the freezer,.. a pox on ye who dont freeze thy vodka i say!

The owner of bar centrale Gianni,.. a man i knew i would like as he reminded me muchly of all round good buddy savvas back home, looked at me when i enquired re the vodka he produced not only ice cold vodka but tres funky little oce cold glasses to drink the stuff from... marvellous, i think he was as happy about it as i was.... further details become blurry.

Oh,.. i had my sunglasses on all night... ah the looks i got from the locals, priceless.

Day 18 - may 17 2003 - Random notes and musings

In rome, watched an impromptu latin jaz ensemble perform at a piazza along side the tiber in trastevere, they played for an hour on the steps of a fountain, there were at least 15 of them, just the old classics bt each had their go at a solo which was special... and no hat being passed around either... they were probably famous

did i ask if anybody knew if russel crowe was in rome with his new bride around may 1? i am sure i saw him at a table in a small osteria in trastevere,.. i looked under the tabel for a slab of VB but didnt spot one, which is the only reason i am in doubt it was him.

In rome young guys and girls were wearing these odd looking shirts,.. sort of tie dyed but mor elike thay had been used to do the painting, everywhere.

All girls in italia use surgical implements to put their jeans on, the expression <> is greeted with positivity... in fact it is sought after.. and although they are into the tight jeans .. god bless their cotton socks... unfortunately this passion for clothing doesnt always extend to the undergarments they wear with these jeans... the bog catcher is very much in vogue

I need a haircut

Ive managed to avoid familiarising myself with the sweets at the cafes and bars so far,.. doing well,.. have lost quite a bit of wait and im still recovering from the walk to Peglio which i have graphically documented in another post... although i have recovered to the point where i am now contenplating doing it again.

Still cant get over the beauty of the coffee here,.. going rate for an expresso in urbania is 80 euro cents, 85 for a machiatto and 1.05 or 1.10 for a cappuci. Purchased a 4 cup stove top espresso makre the other day, typical italian aluminium model... 3 euro, lavaza crema e gusto same packs we get back home is around 1.90 euro.

Also getting stuck into the sicilian red )we call them blood) oranges... 1 litre is about 1.80 which isnt ridiculously cheaper than back home... but i love the stuff.

I wrote my first italian poem today for class, currently with my delectable teacher Monia, will no doubt post it here when i get it back... lots of cliches and lots of really amateur images,.. but hey at least i hav an excuse... everything rhymes in italian as well which can be annoying but you end up with some long words when speaking in 3rd person passato.

The sky i blue, unphotographable blue, i thought i knew what blue was, turns out i had no fucking idea.

everyone smokes, my next door neighbours dog smokes, everyone smokes.

You cant tell how old the woemn are around here,.. until its too late... not that i have been in such a position... but my teahcer looks maybe 25, shes actually 34, a girl in the cafe nearby looks about 30, shes actually 40, a women we spoke to at the bar last night looked about 32, she was 48,.. sofia loren has had no plastic surgery looks hotter than most of th scrags walking around chapel street and was born when my grandmother was just a kid

On that note my grandmother is doing fine and waiting for me in Ampelokipi, hang in there granny, got hours of video tape i need to fill with your memories.

Learning the lingua di strada is a lot more fun than learning how to conjugate verbs. Many words that relate to the act of picking up are based on the entire fishing experience... lovely, why mince words.

The italian word for an at sign is a 'chioccola'' which is a little snail... how cute... i picture all these hardass finance dealers and shit swaping email address...... << si mio email indrizzo e... hardass - little snail - your mamas house dot com dot italia >>>

Day 15 - May 14 2003 - Forza Juve

Urbania is very much a Juventus town, kids wander around in their black and white striped shirts quite often, in fact the region of marche in which urbania finds itself is the only region that doesnt have a team in the italian first division, hasnt had one for some time but they do have some hjope that Ancona which is in seria b will get promoted this year.

Wednesday night was a big night for Juve tifosi, the second leg of the semi final against the fierce Real Madrid. Real had won the first leg 2-1 in spain and the return leg in Torino ha dbeen built up to incredible heights by the local pres and fans. AC Milan had qualified for the final the night before and so Juve were expected to rise to the occasion and make it an all Italian affair for the final in Manchester in a few weeks

But of course this isnt a sports column, as i will now prove... Juve won 3-1, rather triumphantly with 2 splendid goals and parried real's last ditch efforts to make it rhough to the final, forza Juve.

This piece is about getting to live one of those fairy tale evenings for any soccer fan, sitting with the fans in a small town which totally comes toa standstill for big games. We watched the game from one of those bars that are so small nobody knows their name,.. i asked the owner and even he wasnt 100% sure, but the concept of the big screen isnt alien to these guys so we sat or leaned in my case and watched the game unfold, the fans were hopeful but not arrogantly so... Real Madrid is a real powerhouse of a team and coming from behind was a tall order.

One of the great things about Football in Italy is that everyone talks about, including the chicks, and on a big night like this the crowd is mixed, guys girls, husbands wives kids, all together screaming, throwing their hands in the air.

Spirits were lifted early when froggy star Treseuget scored for Juve, an opportunistic but well taken poke past the keeper, the crowd went as they say in the classics quite ape shit, everyone leapt up and hugged anything, beers hit the floor there was even tears,.. and this was only the 10 minute mark. The excitement picked up with the 2nd and 3rd goals to the point where nobody seemed to mind that zizou managed to sneak out a bit of his own patented magic to keep the scoreline respectable for the spaniards.

Following the game we walked around the streets of Urbania waiting for the sreams of cars and vespas to descend on the city, horns blaring flags waving, we watched them stream down via Roma (every town has a via roma) and around the town square, people hung from windows clapping, very much looking forward to the final.

Post game we caught up with Danilo, the PR guy from the italian school, mad juve supporter, he tod us how to get to one of the small underground pubs in urbania ... what a find... its called the ''new inn'' which isnt really funny until you realise that it is actually in the basement of a 500 year old building... Danilo broke open a bottle of champagne, and the bar owner also shouted us a bottle of a sweet white which was great because it was feree... wonderful little place to which we will return to watch the final.

Day 13 - May 12 2003 - Peglio - i think i can i think i can

In class in the morning chris heard jan, one half of the elderly dutch couple say

''Ieri pomeriggio sono andata a peglio a piedi'', which I translated as ''yesterday afternoon i went to Peglio on foot'' well by the end of this story you too will know how important those little filler words are and that Jan did not say to peglio but he said in Peglio as the journey to peglio from urbania on foot is only done by the insane... lock me up sister.

From the terrace of my casa rumorosa we can see a castle perched atop a nearby mount, looks very impressive and if the wind is blowing right you can actually hear its bells a second or so after the bells from urbania. A breathataking structure which would have made it abundantly clear that the people that inhabited this town kind of liked to be left alone and had some pretty good technology and money backing up this desire.

I left for peglio with a small bottle of water, a book, my camera stowed nicely in my daypack, the first part of the journey went swimmingly... a wrong turn started things off.. well not technically a wrong turn just a hope that it would connect with the road to peglio... a false hope.. But not even the wrong turn dampened my spirits it gave me the chance to walk through a poppy field and say hello to some old ladies who were very surprised to see me walk past them, and not quite as surprised to see me return.

Finally on the real road to peglio the existance of a bike track completely seperate to the road made me think that yes this is a well thought out walking track and that many tourists and locals make this journey regularly and it would be pretty and scenic and local girls with arms full or local produce would greet me along the way... bzzt

about 1 km along this scenic pavement the road started to climb,.. not so bad i thought,.. i mean it's got to climb... it's not too hot and the climb and the resulting view is the reason i am here,.. i have my health happiness and a hunger for adventure..yadda yadda yadda

Another kilometre down the track, the road was still climbing and the tree canopy was becoming sparse, my water bottle half empty and the sign i just passed said winding roads for 3 kilometres. Of course the nice bike path had stopped and i was walking on the shoulder of the road with most drivers giving me a what the hell are you doing look with one of them laughing as he shook his head.

I paused after walking uphill at a fairly good pace for an hour, the views were getting better all the time but it wa hard going, i had walked for about 2 hours, taking out the efect of the wrong turn means i should be just about there,.. but i wasnt, as it turns out the 3 kilomeeteres i was told was as the crow flies, the distamce was closer to 5 kms, i didntt know this at the time. )remind me not to seek a carer as a suspense writer)

A further hour of walking uphill and afternoon sunshine and i reached the outskirts of Peglio, it was just the idea that ''i have come this far...'' that kept me going. Thew view from the top .. yeah it was good,.. but not that much better from the view from the nearly at the top... beautifull patterns of different fields, streams, mountain mists blowing across the valley and finally a cool breeze flowing across the top of the mount that i had scaled.

Peglio being a small town everything commercial was closed by this time,.. its 3 shops not available to offer me refreshment but a fountain near the bus shelter appeared to give me a chance to refill my bottle and cooll down. Certain rumblings in my stomach were nothing to worry about it was just the exercise... i had a good lunch of bread tomato tuna and ... ahh.... beans... lots of beans... hmmm

With the rumblings growing stronger i searched the town for an approriate receptacle for my ... post lunch offerings... niente, i tried speaking to two old ladies who sat near the church.. the church goddamit but nieither of them could help out.. one used the word purtruppo which i took as her saying sorry but i cant help you.. one pointed towards a bush... a small bush mind you... and laughed... i took my leave...

A large hotel loomed on the horizon,.. it meant climbing a bit further uphill,.. but hey it's a hotel, i can even see a pool dammit i can probably have a shower and have those local damsels feed me those grapes they had been peeling for the past hour. Well the size of the carpark made me believe that this is a popular spot,.. but not at the moment... the place was fenced tight and looked like it was waiting for the high season, it actually looked like the whole hotel existed somewhere else and this wa a backup copy.

With my rumblings keeping me company i began my descent, obviously much swifter than the ascent, i passed places i hadn't noticed in my approach to Peglio, a beautiful lush green field a small villa clinging to the side of the mountain, the sign indicating deer over the next few kilometres is obviously there just to keep the tourists hoping.

The rumblings had turned to cramps, but urbania was now visible my oohs and ahhs were a combination of breathtaking vistas and ass clenching fear.. i walked past that same poppy field this time wishing it wa a grove of bushes, walked under the sign welcoming you to urbania one final clench and double timed it back to casa rumorosa.

Flatmate Ben couldnt quite read the expression on my face as i approached but he has gotten to know me well enough to open the doors for me and laugh ... my shirt and jeans soaked through with perspiration, my posterior entrance surviving the ordeal and the camera in my bag capturing the moments that i will tell more often... i think.

Day 9, 10 & 11 Siestamatic

Getting into the morning equals school - afternoon equals rest routine. God bless these crazy Europeans and the afternoon siesta, why the heck should people do anything between 12:30 and 3:00 anyway? What could you do during that time that cant wait until 3:30 or the next day, may it live forever I say.

I am having to structure complete sentences now in Italian, this is challenging, i told my teacher today that my Italian is like some dangerous wall,.. i have a lot of bricks and it looks impressive,.. but there is no mortar holding the thing together so if somebody sits on it or interacts with it in any way it will fall on top of them crushing everyone in its path. I am hoping that will change by the end of next week,.. I have certainly come a long way in the pat 4 days, just need to speak more and make as many mistakes as possible but the class structures arent quite right just yet, early days.

Friday evening we returned to what is becoming a personal favourite in Urbania, the enoteca Vin Italy for several bottles of the local plonk, three reds, going to make notes of what we are drinking next time as the range is enormous but the quality has all been of a standard higher than expected. We followed this up with a trip to a local pizzeria, wasn't very adventurous this time as i just had to get some food into me.. one of the group ordersed ''faro'' which none of .. the waitress included, were totally clear on... turned out to be some kind of wheat pasta, riche shaped but a bland grey colour,.. i can half remember something similar in greek but have probably blocked it out of my mind, any italian speakers who want to help out please do so.

Later the group returned to another local bar, one of those hole in the wall type places that only locals seem to go to...there were some great photos of the town squares and typical urbanian scenes on the wall which nobody but me seemed interested in speaking to. Mehdy, one of the students in my class had befriended a local gent who goes by the name of Bardo, yes alarm bells did ring for me too.

As always the young english speakers gather together on these things so the inner circle of the under 30 english speakers is 4 americans, Mehdy, Jessica, Jennifer and Ben and another Melbourne boy Brian who for good reason goes by the name of Stefano in italia. The youngsters occasionally allow me to tag along and try not to make it too obvious that i dont quite fit the young and beautiful criteria... i pretend to be appreciative and not aware of this... it's a balance that matches the most intricate that mama nature has tossed up from the hellfire.

They are an interesting bunch of guys to be honest, which is a pleasant surprise, my roomate Ben is an all round great guy, but its the southern belle jessica that has captured my imagination, she just makes me feel warm... i mean all over warm not specific body part warm, not that she is difficult on the eyes, on the contrary but there is a fire in her that i cant quite put my proverbial finger on... unfortunately she seems about as interested in me as... well as something that doesnt have a lot of interest,.. like that analogy you know the one, the really good one that always slips your mind when you are trying to remember it.

The posse kicked on to Urbino to hang out in one of the local bars, a great time was had by all,.. One of Bardo's buddies managed to roll his car on the return leg from Urbino, he apparently wasnt quite drunk enough to drive as fast as he was... nobody was hurt... turns out that Bardo is one of the Albanese that smother this part of europe, not that theres anything wrong with that,.. im no racist, some of my best friends are Albanian... actually no they arent... none of my friends are Albanian, this is probably because albanians would stab you for your dandruff, but you do some crazy stuff when you are on holiday.

Oh this didn't happen today but before i forget,.. there's a swedish girl who started class today,.. who looks uncannily like the bitch from ipswich Pauline Hanson,... must acquire photo soon.

Day 12 - Ravenna

Ravenna is most famous for its mosaics, and although many italian cities make that claim there is some pretty impressive stuff here... but... for me.. I'm not really into going into some massive monument to see a whole heap of intricately constructed objects places so far from you that you cant appreciate their intricasy or the efforts of the craftsmen. One of the new sites is the Domus dei tappeti di pietro, which was a site unearthed during a mundane demolition, this exposed roughly 50x20m of beautiful mosaic work including some murals, mix of greek and roman influences but the sheer geometry of it is stupfying, if you are going to Ravenna in the next few months be sure to check it out... it's not on the tourist maps as yet as it only opened a few months ago... everything else is churches.

The city being near the coast is flat and easy to get around, its paved streets have a smooth section in the centre which i quickly realised... mi scusa signora,.. is for people riding bikes... it was only after 5 hours of walking around that we discovered that there were bikes for tourists available for free... probably a good thing i didnt see it... I'd be a statistic.

On the way to ravenna we paused at S.Apollinaro in classe, impressive church again... yeah ,... mosaics... but there was a first communion service going on which was great to see,.. kids on the big stage with the padre, proud parents watching priests asking kids questions about their faith and simple bible quizzes and the kids answering proudly or shyly turning away from the mass and whispering their answer into the priests ear... i got to tell off a german who was using a flash camera, everyone loved me.... well aside from the tourist... but i had a shirt on and looked impressive.

On the minibus ride on the way back I discovered exactly how sore my ass can get .. and also discussed the intricacies of the german and italian recycling programs with my class mate Rupi... man those germans know how to party.

Day 8 - 7th May 2003 - Urbino

This afternoon around 18 of us piled into a little bus, the kind of bus you usually see at the bottom of a steep ravine on the 6 o clock news and headed off for a few hours in Urbino with a few stops along the way ... the first of which being .. you guessed it... a ravine.

The river Metauro that slowly winds its way around Urbania combines itself with several other rivers in the area and has forged a valley in the vicinity of Urbino. Steep cliff faces of various coloured stones rise suddenly up from the river forming a cathedral of stone, at the opening of this fiorgo a small church stands we piled out of our bus and into it's cold dark space with the sounds of kids playing a rather energetic game of soccer at a park directly opposite bouncing off the walls, again the clash of the ancient and the utterly modern is everywhere. The slab in the chamber below the pulpit was cold, i lay down for a few seconds when nobody in the group was watching.... somebody had carved "Juve Merda" on the stone above my head.

During the afternoon we had the opportunity to spend a great deal more time in Urbino, once again the youthful effervescence of the town during school days is its most prominent feature but we had time to walk some of its ridiculously steeply sloped streets.

It was only recently that cricket jumpers became all the rage in Europe, one of the sports clothing stores in urbino still had a good range to choose from... my favourite were the mockups of rugby league jumpers,.. with my favourite slogan being ''The frontier spirit of the australia'' the 25 euro price tage took it beyond the souvenir bracket but i had a good laugh at the shopkeeper's expense,.. which is good as it is usually the otherway around.

Day 7 - 6th May 2003

Im not getting paid for this plug, but as it so happens, all the teachers in the school are absolute dolls. We were greeted with their beaming smiles and rounds of Buongiorno when we first entered the doors and it was just impossible to not be lifted by their youthful enthusiasm and breathtakingly tight pants.... a la italiano.

My teacher is Monia, a lovely girl from the nearby town of Apecchio, long text book italian bombshell black curly hair, dark eyes and a smile that breaks hearts at 50 paces. The classes are conducted entirely in Italian albeit it with the odd word or two in English from Monia to help us know the meaning of a new verb. My fellow class mates are - Mehdy a young American guy from University of South Carolina who has an Iranian background a good sense of humour and your all american type, Rupi, hailing from Germania and who is certainly the most vocal of our classmates, i mean that in a technical and sensible sense,.. i would definitely be the one who craps on the most. Jan and Helder an elderly Dutch couple who are devoting the rest of their lives to travel, Jan has a wicked sense of humour and he and I have been getting along rather well and finally Chang Chang a chinese girl who has the best diction and grammar skills in the class but who closes up like the proverbial clam shell when it's her turn to speak.

I on the other hand would easily have the worst grammar skills in the class but launch into long soliliquies when asked to speak, I've never let grammar get in the way of an opportunity to speak shit. Per sempio when asked to introduce ourselves to the class and tell them what sort of place we liev in back home i said something along the lines of 'I am the duke of melbourne, well actually i am the son of the duke of melbourne i am just a bum who travels the world spending money. I live in a grand palace with approximately 30 bedrooms a few swimming pools a church in which we play tennis and 3 pink dogs' Its great what you can do with a rudimentary understanding of a language, a dictionary and a few spare hours.

We haev classes mon-fri from 8:50 to 12:20 conversation classes in the afternoon from 2:30 to 4:30 special lectures organised in the afternoons of Monday and Wednesday and a revision class on Saturday mornings from 9:00 until 11:00. The school also organises excursions on wednesday afternoons and all day sunday, tomorrow afternoon we go to Urbino with a few stops along the way.

Tonight however i figured that study was my best option, although I am glad I have been placed in the elementary group, I have a great deal of catching up to do, the course I completed in Melbourne was very conversation based and though this made it possible for me to land in Rome and be able to feed myself and gain shelter I have to start plugging the gaps.

Day 6 - Back to School

My mum didn't pack me a lunch and I didn't cry when i was standing at the front door of the school waiting for the first day to begin, but the place has a bell that rings between classes,.. so i guess it's flash back time.

Monday was the beginning of my 4 week course at the Centro Studi Italiani here in Urbania. The course commenced with an entrance exam, the only italian i had studied was 10 x 3 hour classes )level 1 and 2) in Melbourne, after about 20 seconds reading the entrance exam for the course i figured that the standards here would be significantly higher.

I fumbled my way through the exam stuffing up what I thought were fairly basic things and then had to inflict the oral component of the exam onto one of the teachers. I guess i did better than I thought, because eventhough my grammar was pretty abismal and you could drive several 3 wheel APE through the holes in my vocab i managed to get into the elementary group and avoid having to go through the beginners course again.

That Afternoon Danilo, one of the school admin staff and all round cool dude took the new students on a bit of a hike to a monastery just outside of the town. A good chance to shoot the shit with the other students and for the younger and more adventurous amongst the group to designate shagging targets. Student numbers are down this semester due to the travel precautions that have plagued the world over the past few months so there are only about 25 of us.

Later that night we were guests at a local enoteca 'Vin Italy' where we sampled several local wines while the store's proprietors Alessandra and his wife Maria Grazie discussed some of the finer points of the stuff we were shoveling down our throats, some of the highlights included a Vin Santo which was a sweety ... smells and tastes like a Noble Riesling, several sweeter reds, served chilled just how i like em and some wines from Puglia. The drinks were accompanied by serveral antipasti parmesano and salami from the local area and an absolutely magnificent olive oil which i will definitely be sending back home, golden and light with an effervescence that i have never ever encountered before, yeah top night.

I returned to my wog palace in via dante alighieri to an interesting night listening to the trio of dogs in the area, the upstairs neighbour who insists on walking around the tiled floors of her apartment in what must be steel tipped stilleto boots and the neighbours on the other side of our bedroom wall quite happy to allow their nippers (nipoti) to have some very professionally coordinated tanrtrums. Classes start at 8:50 Tuesday morning

Day 5 - Hungry in Urbania

The apartment I find myself in is a fairly typical Greek or Italian family apartment block. The parents have a largish block located near the town centre, knock down the shack and build a two storey concrete slab structure which houses them and their children and has other seperate apartments which, if all goes ccording to the master plan... their children will move into when they are old enough to marry.

Most of the apartments in the via i live on are such structures.. the street's name is of course Via Dante Alighieri what better name could there be for a travelling scholar such as myself. The place is noisy, even for a Sunday morning, i find myself up with the roosters letting the cool mountan air hit my face at about 6:30 am, I figure time for a shower and a walk.

In the brief encounter with landlord guy i had some detailed instructions on how to operate the hot water system, this involved the highly technical flicking of the switch on and waiting... in fact the intructions were difficult because i wasn't familiar with the italian verb ricordare which has nothing to do with burning copies of CD's, it simply means remember,... don't forget that... maybe record it somewhere.

So switch located and appropriately flicked, pants off and waiting... and yeah... even after several glances at my watch.. no hot water... This figures, it's that bloody taxi driver Karma coming back to get the unvierse in sync once more... A cold shower, in a cold apartment on what was thankfully not as cold a morning as it can get around these parts.

So, with a slight shiver in my knees and having checked that i have the apartamento keys on me 3 times i head off for a better look around Utbania.

Urbania like Urbino is located within mountain range peaks, Urbania is reasonably flat, ... absolutely flat when compared to Urbino but hilly when compared to ... Noble Park. (noble park being the global standard for determining the hillicity of urban areas). Urbania's old city is walled and surrounded almost entired by a river (the Metauro) which is rather dank but makes for good photos as long as you keep your camera's smellavision features set to off.

I paused for some time at the eastern bridge into the town, an old bridge with a large single arch, rising about 30 metres from the river, the banks of the river crammed with very sensibly arranged vegetable gardens and a rather new but quaint looking shack. I sat on the stone wall and pretended to read whilst actually watching birds swoop playfully down the sides of the valley and under the bridge their chirpring echoing crisply off the stone walls.

I figured I would read for a while until the town started to wake, luckily i wasn't serious, as it was now about 9:00 a.m. and apart from one old lady who sported that the °what the heck are you!° look on her face as she passed me and the odd old man driving around in his APE it was only me the birds and several slowly growing vegetables that were moving.

I returned to the town square to find several people out and about, the road through the centre of town had been blocked just to make me believe there was going to be a market or something that involved the exchange of goods and services for slips of paper but it wasnt to be, the barriers were purely to divert the 1 car per minute which would have used those streets on a sunday and given them something to tisk tisk about.

There were 2 Gelateria open,.. so... my diet for the day

10:00 breakfast - a un espresso e uno piccolo gelato tiramisu
13:00 lunch - un espresso un aqua minerale e uno piccolo gelato fragole
17:00 afternoon snack.. felt like something different - una grande e un gelato con tiramisu e caffe e panne (thats cream not bread folks)
16:00 for the long 3 minute walk home ... another grande with tiramisu and vanilla, hold the panne.

In betwixt gelati i had ample opportunity to perform several giri of Urbania, beautifully laid out, narrow cobbled streets with all streetfront places being 1 or 2 storeys and a great mix of adornments made to the houses, signs of life on every door and window, the strung up laundry the odd well fed cat, stores selling fresh produce nestled behind simple doors a good mix of churches which have a politely coordinated bell ringing hierarchy and even a small church where mumified remains of long dead significant people are visible, certainly never seen anything like that before.

I tracked down the location of my school and all the other essential services i would need, including a pool table in one of the bars and headed back home to digest my gelati.

Day 4 - Rome to Urbania

Some journeys seem to take longer the closer you get to your destination,

I left Roma's beautiful (cough) Termini Station early on Satuday morning, having secured my ticket the day prior and even remembered to reserve a seat. A 3 hour train ride to Falconara on the Adriatic coast was the first leg.

At Termini station I was that guy that always gets those looks from yourg girls or older ladies who are having or are anticipating having trouble freeing up a baggage trolley... and being the all round nice guy (read sucker) that I am ... I helped out when I could, even with a rather large backpack strapped to me, ... and to answer the question... no,.. not all the ladies I offerred assistance to were good looking... some of them were great looking, I think one of them may have been a model, although for what who could say, but there was at least one who was rather plain. maybe...

So if you are looking for trolley loosening tips see me when i get back cos i had that shit sorted after an hour standing around the departures board waiting for my Ancona train platform number to appear. But if you are googling a solution and need info now... It's all in the bounce, lift the trolley gracefully and slam it down hard... dont shy away from a 5 or 6 trolley convoy as this additional mass helps you on the crucial downstroke... the same theory applies to many things not solely trolley related.

The trip to Falconara was reasonable, sat next to an italian woman reading a translated Wilbur Smith novel,.. it seems crap literature knows no boundaries... Got to see some rather picturesque scenery, it felt good to see lush green plains augmented by the brilliant european springtime sun.

At Falconara I disembarked gracefully and got a lungful of Adriatic air, as most of you hardened travellers will know the train line along the east coast of Italia runs along the shoreline for pretty much the entire calf muscle of "the boot", so my trip from Falconara to Pesaro was spent mainly looking over my right shoulder at the expanse of blue and the meeting of sky and water.

At Pesaro it was time to use the italian and sort out the buses,.. A bus to Urbino was the second last leg of the journey, ... ask ''dove la bus per urbino'' at the train station, walk to the °piazza° (I have learnt now that Piazza usually means the place where the rubbish bins are located ... or ... carpark)... stand around waiting, ask the guy in the ticket office when the bus comes, he tells you when the bus comes but doesn't tell you that the tickets are for sale at the bar at the other end of the piazza, so when the bus arrives you do a mad dash across the piazza and meet the bar owner at the door who has a handful of tickets awaiting the oncoming masses... anyway... i am now on the Bus

Urbino, is a university town nestled in the mountains about 45 minutes off the Adriatic coast, fairly unique mix of architecture and humanity, very youthful due to all those pesky students but right up there on world standards of significant buildings with the palazzo ducale and other highlights certainly making the place worth a visit,.. I had a quick stroll around but the very steep hills, my backpack and already 8 hours on the trip clock combined with the fact that it was only 18kms from my ultimate destination made me figure... come back some other time.

So I parked my ass under the portico in the very tasteful carpark and waited for the Urbania bus to arrive... 60 minutes of squinting at oncoming bus signs paid dividends and one large Bucci bus lunged towards me with my destination displayed above the driver's head. 1, or 2 or 20 steep climbs, breathtaking turns and with me the only person on the bus the doors are flung open at yet another car park along with the driver's enthusiastic cry of "Urbania"

But Im not there just yet,.. I am in Urbania to do a 4 week Italian course, accomodation at an apartment has been organised, i have the apartment address but dont really fnacy my chances of finding it,.. i have the owners mobile number which i assume i had been given with good reason.. so i call it.. an old lady answers the phone...

me: buona sera signora, signore davide passeri per favore
signora: 30 seconds of uninterrupted italian shouted down the telephone line
me: mi scusi signora ma parlo un po' italiano
signora: repeats what i assume was the same passage but slower and louder,
she then drops the phone, I figure i am supposed to stay on the line... she returns... and rattles off a series of numbers... i am a clever guy and figure this is probably a phone number... I hang up and ring it

The phone is answered thusly
"yes yes si si aspetta arrivo a cinque minuti.. i have one car ggggreyyyy"
I knew what that meant so ordered a coke and sat down at the bar near the bus stop trying to spot anything moving and grey.

Several cars pull up, none of them grey, one rather nice silver hatch appears,.. i recall the difficulty my father and i had over the years understanding the subtleties in the translation of things silver in colour grey in colour white in colour or transparent, if your dad is a wog, try a little experiment, ask him to pass you something "clear" like a screwdriver with a clear plastic handle... go on... do it... see what happens...

So a Silver VW Golf, translated as grey appears,.

I stand up backpack in my hands,... I am trying to look as touristy as possible ... i am pretty sure I even had a map in my hands... he walks up to me doesn't give me a second look... walks past me into the bar ... out again and into his macchina and off. After what I know now would have been a lap of the town the silver car returns, he gets out walks past me again ... °Davide?° I say... he turns to me as if i just fell from the sky... °Yes... chrisa!!!° we go.

He takes me to what will be home for 4 weeks.. its a combination of typical melbourne suburban construction methods,.. with that added element of euro wog chic, the place is newish but seems to have been constructed using salvaged parts and the remains of what used to reside at that address, different tiles in each room, differrent door knobs on each door, strange mixture of light fittings, but it was reasonably clean and i was assured that it was just "two one hundred metres " from the centro,. this could have been 2100 metres, 102 metres, or 200 metres., I obviously had too much time on my hands.

A brief tour of the facilities and my new landlord Davide disappears and I, a tired and weary traveller on the new leg of a journey stand in the kitchen listening to two flies bounce off the window.

Its probably nowhere near as bad as it seems, i say to myself.

I unpack my bags, lie down for 30 minutes and decide to test out this "two one hundred metre " theory, Davide's directions were good and I find myself in the centre of town... once again turning heads.... the sole objective was food, but some of the buildings and the old bridge i literally stumbled across just made me stop for an oh wow moment.

The smell of wood fired pizza dragged me nose first into La Loggia pizzeria, i had an insalata Caprese with some very generous slabs of fromaggio de la name escapes me, fat juicy pomodore and basil leaves that cover your palm.. and a pizza boscaiola, the pizza was super thin, crisp and still had charcoal specs from the wood oven on it, it hung over the plate, big but not very bready so it hit the spot, luckily my good sense told me that it was unlikely that i would find something to eat on sunday in such a small town.. so i loaded up... wise choice.

day 1 - Trastevere - Colosseum - Forum

I have always been against planning, this will come as no shock to my past employers.. and this holiday had a bit of a plan but i wanted to just land in a city and have to fumble my way around at first... it was a luxury that only time can give, and i had that in buckets.

So here I was in Rome. i knew little about the city ... I had a map but wasn't sure exactly where I was, wasn't sure which way the river was so wasn't even able to just wing it... but I did have myself some most comforbale lodgings at Hotel San Francesco in Trastevere, so it wasn't like I was camping or anything... lordie lordie

I spent the first few hours of the morning gathering and getting a better idea of where I was.

I did some road crossing practice,.. even though I was telling myself to ignore everything that Hector the cat taught me about road safety and "look to the left"... my brain refused to comply and turned my head to the right.. and quite nearly, I, like many a tourist from a "we drive on the left" country almost got run down with the first step I placed on a Roman road. It wasn't the proverbial bus,.. and it wasnt even one of those crazy 3 wheeled cars,.. just an everyday fiat ... its driver said something to me which i will have to take up with my Italian teacher when i get back.

A bit more road crossing practice and i was feeling better,.. made my way to the river, back to the hotel and sense of direction (one of those things you cant buy at the tabachi) had been acquired.

Most of you know I am no fan of crap movies.. in fact some of you probably think I exclusively like crap movies.. that's because in actual fact it's you who like crap movies and don't yet know it.. But I watched the movie Gladiator all because of this strange obsession I have with the colosseum,.. i have never been able to explain it... but the place has captivated me since a fellow student showed me some photos of it back in 1978, Well today I walked it, touched it smelt it etc, and although cliched and reasonably crowded it still meant something, the scale of things, the scale of human ability to both build something magnificent and yet use it for something so primitive .. and the need to preserve these structures as places of importance even though the tastes and beliefs of the people that see it every day have changed.

Tourists will be pleased to note that the gladiatorially clad dickheads who try and make you take photos of them were gone, that was nice, although i had armed myself with several swear words just for their ears,.. but knowledge is a good thing,, i am sure it will come in handy one day soon.

From the colleseum it was onto the Roman Forum just a bunch of old stuff really,.. nice place for a block of apartments, i had read a comment on a website about Circa Massimo once,.. which just read °why dont they just concrete it° and figured i better go and work out why for myself... well it's got me stuffed... i think Melbourne's Italian community should each send 1 kilo of pebble mix over to cover the place,..

Back to my bed in Trastevere for more efforts at de-jetlagging myself... i have hayfever,.. i never get hayfever,.. crazy roman pollen i guess... jasmine everywhere, sweet smelling,.. but eye swelling.

Day 3 - May 2 - Central Rome

Rome basically shuts down for May Day, so in my travels i came across several shops that i had been looking for, the local supermarket, tabacchi , post office, phone shop... so i started my day with a mission, purchase a few things, including bus tickets and head into termini station to purchase tickets i would require to travel to Pesaro on Saturday ... tomorrow on my way to Urbania.

The bus whisked me off to Termini and it was all rather orderly... Melbourne has been plagued with public transport ticketing problems ... looks like rome has had a taste of their own.. each bus has 2 types of ticket validating machines... 1 old one and 3 new ones... but there is no ticket selling on board,.. you have to buy tickets from Tabacchi,.. but not all Tabacchi sell them because they dont make a cut on them that they are happy with... The newstands sell tickets but they are the old ones that they purchase via rather dodgy means apparently... they are still good, just not new fangled ones. fangled doesnt necessarily mean better,.. its just has added fangles.

I was trying to stick my old ticket int the new ticket slot much to the pleasure of the romans within sight of yet another hapless tourist doing this... they didnt offer help,.. it wasnt life or death.. the whole system seems a bit slack, turns ourt that the old validators are at the back of the bus only,... i knwo this now... this i now know.

Acquired tickets ra6ther swiftly at Termini,.. i had prearmed myself with keywords to lubricate the transaction,.. solo andate, posta, diretto, bigletto... done... hopefully wi ll actually find the train tomorrow morning...26 platforms and people wandering around everyhwere, rose sellers and beggars again yeah yeah.

Came across a fangled )refer to repvious definition of fangled and fanglisation) inernet access point in tyermini, it was ridiculously expensive but as i hadnt touched the net for 4 days... it was my duty... the fanlging of this net access computer meant that the keyboard had various dodgy keys, these were the seldom used letters °e° and °d° and space bar... so i apologise to the people i emaile during that time... ill decipher when i get back.

From Termini,.. a subway ride or two got me to Spagna... which i figured was roman for Spanish and the steps of the same name... well all those years at university paid off cos goddamit i was right... The Spanish steps was a suriprise actually, interesting beautiful and functional,.. and not just because i like looking at chicks... ok.. well maybe it was just because i like looking at chicks... but it was interesting... took the vide camera for a 30 minute stroll from piazza di populi to spanish steps and up the suckers... after which i needed a drink.

Now the restaurants etc near the tourist attractions are notorious for rip offs,.. so i sat at one just so i can share the story with you.. all prices in euro espresso 2,30 large 1L mineral water 2,90 small mineral water 1,90 sandwhiches around 7,00 pot of beer, 5,00 pint of beer 10,00 )thats 20 bucks for a pint of freaking no name la spina beer!!) So i order an espresso and a °grande° mineral water,.. but i receive an espresso and a °piccolo° mineral water.. and yeah you guessed it .. was charged for the grande... luckily for me the cashier spoke quite gopod english so she understood the abuse i poured on her establishment,... bring on the next victim i think she uttered.

From there, spring in my step delivered by roman espresso i headed off to the trevi fountain, i didnt expect to beimpressed,.. i wasnt... its just a lot of statues really,.. i mean yeah its impressive.. if you like that kind of thing,.. i came here becuase of a recommendation for internet access,.. from which i have been typing these updates.. and where i have spent the last 3 hours... simple place on via luchessi directly to the left of the fountain,.. typical narrow street overcorwded with gift shops and this lovely net point crammed with people from all over the world doing what we are all bound to do at some stage... think of those we have left behind.

cheers for now.... arriverderci roma domani,.. on to new experiences further north... i didnt toss a coin in the trevi but i think im coming back anyway.