A Little Bit of Me

Jottings and Writing, miscellanous misgivings

A Day in the Life

A Day in the Life
“woke up got out of bed
Dragged a comb across my head
Made my way downstairs”

Felt like a Beatles kind of morning. All our devices are on different time zones either because they are useless at knowing where they are (Kindle) or we are too lazy to update them (Samsung Tablet) My own personal body clock has always been extremely accurate although with advanced age it tends to be a little premature. I had set to for 5.30 but when I awoke I glanced at the Samsung and it said 3.05. Oh well back to sleep for a couple of hours as we had to catch a velopocello at 6.05 to catch the train to Mestre then the Flixbus to Pescara (our next destination, a 6 hour bus drive away in Abruzzi, Italy. I jerked awake an hour later and glanced at the clock 4.10. Alison slung her arm out nearly breaking my nose and yelled at me to go back to bloody sleep weareearlyfortgeferryanywayyouareabundlofnerves. But there was something not quite right. It was light outside and Italian dawn and dusk are roughly akin to whats happening in NZ at the moment. Then I consulted my huawei which is on trusted Italian time . 6.10. Shit the ferry left 5 minutes age. We have perfected packing and in 5 minutes we were downstairs, hair combed and ready for a day in the life.
Venus is particularly beautiful early morning and nighttime when you cant spot the decay, the tourists havent descended or have eloped. The soft light and splashes of the rising sun show you what a beautiful city it must have been. I am not sad to leave but wonder what will happen to her with a falling base, rising sea levels, a failed engineering project to stop the water rising and over tourism.
Managed to avoid the train inspector as we had failed to validate our tickets (subject to a €100 fine and then bloody Alison draws his attention by asking if this is the Mestre stop. I could have left her in an Italian prison)
I have been increasingly mistaken for an Italian with people asking for directions, German men wanting something and shop keepers speaking on rapid fire Italian which I cant follow whereas they slways talk English to Alison. This beautiful young Italian lady pulls up on a Harley and softly nudges my leg whilst parking. To my horror she apologies in fluent English and we then proceed to discuss the merits of American vs English iron. Go figure.
The bus ride to Pescara is long but uneventful apart from the driver who spends most of his time on his cell, gesticulating as Italians do and straying onto the next lane. Italian autobahns are great but the lanes are very narrow and the roads are dominated by trucks. Also all the trucks have little speed signs on the back 50, 80 , 100 kph and I wondered what they mean. The interweb has a host of explanations but basically the Italian government has made ot law a d it means nothing . The Flexibus company are great and my best discovery. For a reasonable price they transport you at literally the push of a finger. All bookings are online, a electronic ticket is emailed to you and you just show your smartphone, scan the barcode and you are off. They send a reminder the morning of your departure and any route info you m8ght need and then a follow up questionnaire afterwards. IT IS ILLEGAL TO USE CELLPHONES WHILE DRIVING AND INFRINGEMENTS ARE LIABLE FOR A SMALL FINE. What was even more disconcerting was the blatant disregards for red lights, roundabout rules, unless of course you are a lovely senorita where the brakes are suddenly applied , accompanied by inappropriate hand gestures and a huge smile. Ahhh ! Italy.
Pescara is seaside city famous for its beaches. It is common for an Italian family from Rome or nearby to decamp for the summer with pappa continuing to work and visit for the weekend. There is a delightful description of this culture in Tim Parks – An Italian Education (look it up on Google as he does a much better job of explaining it all than I could do justice to.) Imagine my horror when I wandered down to the beach, about 5 minutes from our apartment, to find miles and miles of beach umbrellas , 10 – 20 deep , which you rent out for up to €20-100 A day depending on the season. There are free beaches where fay pasty English and German tourists fry themselves in towels but the guides warn that the sand is dirty, beggars and thieves abound, and you are really not getting into the spirit of things. Its supposed to rain today so I might just sot in my briefs on the balcony and listen to the soccer blaring out from tv sets along the street. Cooked a pretty fair meal last night. Chicken pamiggia, a insalata miso, and proved that Italian potatoes can be nice. Washed down with some Multipeaciano.
I also found an old style barber up the street who uses a cutthroat razor so I am looking for an Italian haircut and shave on Monday. Expect a substantial new look.IMG_20160830_111521


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