I’m not much into exaggeration so believe me when I say there are only 4 ATM machines in all of Italy and zero laundromats.
I don’t care how it sounds. During the last four days, I have stuffed myself full of Italian meat.
Whenever I’m stressed over travel (missing trains, don’t know where to sleep, etc…) I get an ice cream and feel better. In Italy, I get gelato and feel invincible.
Speaking of gelato, I ate it for breakfast three out of four days. I tried to get the ones with fruit because it feels healthy.
There’s a guy on my ferry who is wearing a shirt that boldly proclaims: EAT MORE PUSSY. Another Italian guy is wearing a shirt that says: REMEMBER MY NAME…YOU’LL BE SCREAMING IT LATER. What I’m trying to say is that the hot fashion in Italy right now seems to be American Spring Break circa 1995.
Two bites into the salami I bought from the grocery store, I realized that it was a raw sausage. Hoping this doesn’t end up on the injury report.
In less than a week, I’ve slept on the floor of the Rome airport and the hallway of an international ferry. So much for keeping the trip classy.
It’s so hot out that the Adriatic Sea feels like warm, salty bathwater. Could not be less refreshing.
I splurged and spent the night in a beautiful apartment right in Vasto. I took four showers in less than 12 hours.
Waking up covered in your sweat is not an ideal way to wake up.
No toilet seats. Again. Damn you European campgrounds!
A Death in Italy: A Short Campground Drama
(I am standing outside my tent with three Italian campground neighbors)
“Our friend gave us some homemade wine.”
“In Italy, we call a five gallon liter of wine ‘a little child’.”
(Returns from car with crestfallen look on face)
“We left the child in a hot car! The kid has a fever!”
“I will cool her down in the shower. I am a good father.”
(Ten minutes later…)
“It did not work. The child is still too hot.”
“Now we go to war. We must take desperate…what’s the word?”
“We take desperate measures to save this child’s life. We must find ice.”
(We find three cups of ice, pour the wine into it. It does not taste good)
“It is over. She is gone.”
(Silence from group. Italian girl makes flatline sound. Creates a tiny cross)
“She was so young.”
Travel Tip: When you leave an Air BnB, check your pockets. You might have stolen their key.
Gear Update: After the excitement of finding the missing sock, I lost another one. The footspray I bought in Germany to make my shoes smell fresh vanished enroute to Instanbul. Maybe because it was an aerosol can. Maybe someone needed it more than me. I couldn’t read the German instructions so at least the ongoing controversy whether it was supposed to be sprayed into the shoes or directly onto my feet has finally been put to rest.
Injury Update: My left hand started wildly trembling one morning during my morning espresso. I wondered if it was a serious neurological disorder, then loosened up a few of my wristbands which may have been cutting off circulation and everything has been fine since. This is how I suffer for my art.