I BRUSHED MY TEETH WITH BUM RASH CREAM.
It has been nearly 72 hours since I decided that the tube of hydrocortisone in my shaving kit was a travel size tube of Crest toothpaste. I must admit that it took about 6 seconds of vigorous brushing before the shock kicked in.The taste was not as I recalled and the immediate sensation of being sick to my stomach was not as per usual either. I looked down to the bathroom counter and to my horror it all became clear. The label says for external use only, so thats a problem right off the bat.When in Britain one must keep a stiff upper lip and “Never Surrender”. I am just hopeful to have an upper lip when I wake up tomorrow, stiff or otherwise. So as I sit knocking out today’s blog I can say that no matter what I eat or what I drink tastes like hydrocortisone. OK, moving on. Today is Saturday but not just any Saturday in Oxford’s calendar. This afternoon is the annual Boat Race as Oxford Universty rows against Cambridge on the Thames for the 163rd consecutive year. This sporting event is rumoured to bring out sometimes close to a million fans along the banks of London’s famous murky river.
After lunch we decided that we should try to find some of the most quaint villages we could, so we drove on to Chipping Norton. I met a fella on the street there who put us on to (as he described) the most picturesque village of them all. He said you have to go and see Lower Slaughter. Not a better name for a crime novel but as we drove into the tiny village your breath is taken away by the picture postcard setting. I suggest that if you are at all interested please search google images for this village. I do not have the vocabulary to do it justice.After a few more hours in the country we eventually wound our way back to the hotel and the drive was spectacular. We stopped in the hotel bar on the way to our room for a couple of local pints. Job done and to bed for an early morning set aside for souvenir shopping.I could go on and on but I am drawn to the television now. The women’s race is on and Cambridge is several boat lengths ahead. I do not want to miss the rest of the afternoon’s excitement so I bid you farewell. Tomorrow is for home and to reconnect with family.Cheers!Markp.s. Cambridge was victorious in all 4 races this afternoon.
Give Way to Oncoming Traffic!
Most will know that the vast majority of European cars are much smaller than the ones driven on the highways and byways of North America. There are several reasons for that of course. Fuel is expensive, so a smaller car burns less. The roads in some places are quite narrow and a small car helps navigate those journeys in a safer manner.
Most of our travels up until yesterday in the highlands and on Skye have been on normal dual carriageways and therefore you could be driving a tank and still have plenty of room to manoeuvre. That abruptly stopped yesterday. Trying to fit our Ford Focus between the gravel shoulders has been akin to watching me trying to fit more than one leg into a pair of 32” waiste jeans.But miracles do happen and so far so good. Being attentive is key to survival. If a semi-truck fully laden with Cod is set for south when you are set for north on a road just a little narrower than the width of a Focus, then terror ensues. When I say terror I mean that phenomenon of fight or flight. That truck (lorry) is coming no matter what. What do you do? The clock is ticking. Do you break with force and reverse with vigor? Do you pull off to the left and hope that the peaty bog does not swallow you up and hold you hostage? Do you play chicken and hope not to become the latest in a plethora of hood ornaments on the massive Volvo truck speeding towards you?
Ten times out of ten I go with slam on the breaks and reverse trying not to deficate whilst screaming in terror. No, those are not tears you see. Tears or a show of emotion would be for big babies not experienced emergency vehicle operators such as myself. Suffice to say the only thing keeping me from my hotel bed and the fetal position is the liquid courage that comes in the form of a smokey golden viscous liquid produced from the purest of waters in the coldest of air.Over the last couple of days we have had the immense pleasure to make stops along our way at two of Scotland’s finest Scotch Distilleries. Yesterday was Dalwhinnie and today on Skye we took in Talisker. Dalwhinnie has the distinct geographic notoriety as Scotland’s highest and coldest distillery. On both accounts it did not disappoint. Several layers of clothing along with woollen accoutrements were required to brave the tour. Regardless of the conditions the tour was wonderful and we both learned a lot about the distilling process.
Deanna is not one who has enjoyed the spoils of a wee dram before, so the tasting experience after the tour was timely and thoroughly enjoyed by both of us. There was absolutely no pressure to buy as we concluded but that did not put us off and a bottle of the 15 year old and two complimentary glasses went into the shopping bag.We continued along the highway to Skye from the Highlands through the Cairngorms National Park. Our next stop was for an obligatory photo op at Eilean Donan Castle. I have seen hundreds of photos of this place in the past and it was just spectacular in person. We spent half hour just gazing across the bridge at its buttresses and ramparts. I am so glad the rain was on a tea break.
We made our way back into town for the COOP and picked up a few things for a picnic dinner in the room. As I sit here rambling I am almost driven to distraction from the winds outside pounding our windows from the west and the Irish Sea.I am sure that you are sick and tired of this nonsense by now so I will provide you with some sorely earned respite from my rubbishy stories. Tomorrow finds us heading southeast to Edinburgh and the hopes that we arrive in time to find a pub that does not hate the English so much that we can watch their team take on Ireland in 6 Nations Rugby action at 2:45 pm.
Live well!
THE MENIN GATE.
I arrived 90 minutes before schedule and it was already busy with people on the parade route. As I should have known the police where there in force and had already erected barriers to stop foot traffic from gaining access to the gate. Because Ypres is a medieval city it is walled and a somewhat circular river surrounds it. I had a quick chat with a Belgian policeman and he sent me Northwest to the next bridge into the city.
The streets and paths were busy with joggers and cyclists going about their morning. The swans and ducks were floating below the footbridge that I eventually crossed to enter the city through small archway in the ramparts. Once inside I had time to stop into a typical yet excellent patisserie to pick up a couple of pain au chocolate (of course I had time). With one in my gob and one in reserve I hustled off towards the parade route.A spit of rain met me about 25 meters from Menin and it was there where I found a gap in the crowd to take a tactical position on the barricades. To my left was an elderly couple from Northern Ireland. The good lady was very chatty so she was. To my right was a young mom and her 10 year old daughter. We hit it off quickly and soon after I knew a lot more about the city, region and the ceremony. Her 15 year old son was drumming in the local pipe and drum band. She explained that they had the honour of leading the parade to greet the Canadian Soldiers when they arrived. Although this lady’s son had been a practicing member of the band for two years, this was his first time being allowed to perform in front of dignitaries.As we chatted I failed to realize that now both sides of the street had filled with onlookers and they now appeared to be 6 deep. We hung over the railing in anticipation. In the very far off distance we could hear the drone of the pipes.[wpvideo oZ1Y666p]This gave Mary and George to my left time tell me all about their Alaskan cruise and the stop they made in Victoria to meet friends they hadn’t seen in donkeys years so they did. They were actually lovely and very honoured to be there to support the Canadians.Around us were Veterans of all ages, smartly turned out in suits or blazers along with their regimental berets with gleaming cap badges. Most were British by my estimation. Nevertheless, whether they got there by plane, train, cain, walking sticks or wheel chair they got there. Their banter indicated that they were proud to have made it and as time moved on, conversations morphed to where they were going after and who was buying the first round!
The local band was nearing us now and they sounded very good. I watched intently at my new friend and her daughter as her son marched passed playing his drum. She filmed it on her phone as they both cried pridefully. The Belgians do remember. They feel it a privilege to show their appreciation for others who placed their life on the line to help free them. They clearly feel that they must honour the Commonwealth Soldiers efforts to help them during the Great War.I don’t know what it is lately, but there again and not for the last time today came that rush of emotion and I battled to hide my tears watching them. Once the pipes and drums passed us by and took up their receiving position through the gate, we then watched as a couple of hundred dignitaries walked, hobbled or marched past. Once again, vets being pushed in wheel chairs or being supported under each arm by younger family members.Then came the Canadian Army band. In definite tune and playing with gusto. Remember now the tens of thousands lining the route and I am sure the captain in charge realized it as he conducted them on the approach to Menin. Next it was my time to try to keep it together as I could see Mackenzie in the offing and nearing our position.
I snapped a few pictures for retrospect but then quickly let my camera dangle around my neck so I could enjoy the moment. I hate to sound overbearing but this was a day that I will never forget. A true father son moment. I have watched him over the years do some awesome things in awesome venues as an athlete but I must admit this took the cake.
As the Canadians took their place at the Menin Gate the remainder of the parade filled in behind them. There were representatives from a Punjabi regiment, firemen, policemen, and many other groups of organized veteran groups. A true spectacle!
Try as I might I was unable to catch up with Mac to shake his hand but a short while later he called to ask if I would meet them at Hill 62 for the afternoon’s ceremony.I walked back to my car but this time getting to walk under the Menin Gate myself. I read a few of the inscriptions and paused for thought. The enormity and gravity of this place is breathtaking. I eventually made it back to the car and typed Hill 62 into Google Maps. Low and behold it knew how to get there so off I went. Another moving ceremony that I have already captured in brief on a facebook post.
Tomorrow I am off to take in Vimy Ridge. This has been a special day!CheersMark
TAKE US TO THE LOBSTER SHACK PLEASE.
I had another title for today's blog but after much deliberation I have decided to go with this one. You see, without going into much detail I was going to make assertions that would probably upset and alienate too many people based on my stuffy old-fashioned biases. Whether I like it or not its 2017. Time marches on and so must I.
It's time to live and let live. Love and accept the many different things that people do to themselves to make them appear "unique" and forge on in a way that is non judgemental & be a strong proponent of vive la difference!Yesterday Mexico celebrated the day of the dead. This will come back to play a significant role in my story a little later. Yesterday afternoon, after many hours of snorkeling and lying about in the shade, it was time to make a decision about dinner and where to have it. I had been scouring the net for options in the town center and as such had found what appeared to fit the bill perfectly. Seafood in a bun, seafood in a bowl or seafood burritos. This place came highly recommended by hundreds before us as well as our lovely El Presidente Concierge Ana.All we had to do is request a cab and head towards what was shaping up in my imagination to be the experience of a lifetime. Our restaurant of choice tonight has countless five-star ratings on Google, Yelp, and the grand daddy of them all, Trip Adviser (Sorry Mr. Steves!!).
Ana hailed us a cab and soon afterwards we were driving at a pace akin to the speed of baby sea turtles, who (I recently learned) are born into the world from Cozumel's surrounding beaches. Today's driver was not as spry as our last (Juan). One could almost describe him as a dead man driving. I never quite got his name as he required what little energy he had left to drive his dilapidated Toyota Corolla from point A to B, let alone utter words.
Let's just say that I would be very surprised to to witness our driver survive the night to see mañana . Our nether-worldly driver appeared to be similar in stature to Juan but I couldn't swear to that as he never rose from his seat to get out of the cab. My guess is just under five feet tall, slim build and frail. From the Intercontinental Resort we meandered along Quintana Roo Road as mentioned earlier at a leisurely pace. Pedestrians strolled by us like we were standing still. Families of six all aboard their 125cc motorbike passed us like super bike riders racing the Isle of Man TT.
My beard was noticeably longer as we arrived at the city limits. If this was Juan at the wheel we would have been around the island once and lapped ourselves by now. My stomach was turning as I thought "oh my god", what is this going to cost us. If the meter goes by time and not distance we are going to have to sell fake Cuban cigars or god forbid, donkey rides on the beach to drunken Carnival Cruise day trippers to pay for this.
As we passed the Mega store I though to myself, that took us ten minutes last time. If this keeps up Deanna is going to have to bury me and our nameless driver together in this shock absorb-er-less Mexinese death trap. Deanna was happily perspiring to my left with nary a trouble in the world. I'm panicking Sky-walker!
So this continued for another five minutes before I said to Deanna, I mapped this place out on Google yesterday. It's just a five-minute walk from the Mega. By this time we were approaching wilderness and Cozumel Airport in the distance. Now, for the Talking Heads fans among us, I think these lyrics from their song "Once in a lifetime" will illustrate what was going on inside my head as I stared out of the cab.And you may ask yourselfWhat is that beautiful house?And you may ask yourselfWhere does that highway go to?And you may ask yourselfAm I right? Am I wrong?And you may say to yourself, "My God! What have I done?"
With the power invested upon me by the music of David Byrne, I summoned up the courage to ask a few questions of our octogenarian driver. I knew going into this that he only had so many breaths left to take so to keep my questions brief. "Señor are you driving to the Lobster Shack?" "Ci he replied!" "Are you sure?" "The Lobster Shack I asked again"? I could smell the synapses smoldering. Then came his reply. "Ci we go Lobster Shark".
What the ***k is a lobster shark? I just wanted a lobster sandwich. Now we are gonna be fed to lobster sharks. What are lobster sharks? I've never heard of them before. They sound like one of those hybrid villains I used to binge watch on Saturday morning Spider-Man cartoons as a lad.
Ok, I decide to throw caution to the wind and ask our driver to use what little life he has left to turn this wheelie coffin around and head back for the town centre. A while later we arrived. I asked him to pull over beside the nice man with a completely tattooed face and his pit bull so we could say our goodbyes.
Here it comes, 'how much Señor? 110 pesos Señor. So its 110 pesos to the Mega, or its 110 pesos to drive to the lobster shark feeding grounds and all the way back to tattooed face man. Ok, no argument here, and I paid the man before he ran out of time to spend it. I then turned and saw a Starbucks. This evening Starbucks stood in the distance like the Statue of Liberty. Starbucks was there to give respite to the poor, tired and huddled masses (as long as they buy an Americano).I just wanted their WiFi and damn it I got it. Hey Siri, find Lobster Shack. Three seconds later Siri says we are actually about 45 seconds away by foot. We follow the directions around the corner and there it is. Just as it looked in the dozens of photos attached to the reviews. Tables outside, menu looks awesome. It's closed!Good times!
YOU LIKE THE PICO DE GALLO AMIGO?
Paco and I have become fast friends. Paco is our ever-present waiter at Caribeno. Caribeno is one of four dining options here at El Presidente. There is a Mediterranean option, an Italian option, a creperie and Caribeno. I can't even begin to tell you what the other places are like because I love Mexican food. And as the man once said "when in Rome", you know the rest. Life is a beach, and here on the Island of Cozumel you can't stray far from one. If you despise white sand and turquoise water you better get your travel agent to look elsewhere as this place has it in spades. Only on one other occasion have I travelled to Mexico and that was sadly in my youth. My hazed recollections of that trip are PC and not for anything like this little blog. The upshot of that long ago adventure was that I swore to myself, I would never again travel across two borders to the south. As it turns out tequila has lasting and negative side effects that can deter you from travelling to what has turned out to be paradise. This resort is to me an excellent example of purposeful serenity. Now I know if you are a friend of the Aga Khan, you can travel to a private Xanadu somewhere in the Caribbean where unichs wave palms overhead and you can inject yourself (photo-bomb in Trudeau speak) into everyone's family photos because you think you are cool. But I'm neither cool nor a former on-call drama teacher, so that's not gonna happen.
You know sometimes when you see places in a glossy travel magazine, you think to yourself that cannot be real. So this story unfolds. This place is exactly how it appears in print and on the net. It is unreal. This is not an all exclusive and the prices for food and beverage are similar to at home so there is no savings in that regard. One can always opt to stay at an all-inclusive when in the Caribbean but upon reflection and with no personal experience to make the following statement. "With inclusivity comes a different vibe". The vibe that I can barely recollect from my youth when cerveza flowed like water and senseless waste was everywhere. Along with that vibe comes drunken buffoonery. Pearly white men in jean cut offs (to the knee) walking proudly about with a smoke perched over each ear and a different camo ball cap for every day of their stay. And before you ask that was never then or now me!!!!
On this trip I didn't need that. I didn't need anything to raise my blood pressure. Day one was already close to dropping the elephant right in his tracks given my "little" oversight. So here I am. Nobody has raised my eyebrows as yet. No one has been insulting or negative or even neutral in their demeanour. Everyone we have had the pleasure to meet has been so gracious and welcoming and proud. If you leave your chez lounge for a second someone sprints over to change your towel or refill your water. I greet everyone with a strong positive Ola! In return I get one back with Señor or better yet amigo tacked on to the end.
Yesterday afternoon we wandered into town by Taxi to visit the Mega Store. The Mega is where the locals shop here on the island. It reminded me of a Coop store you would find in the UK or Switzerland. Whatever you can think of the Mega has it. Just to back up a bit we asked the bell captain to order us a local cab. We are several miles out of the centre of town but it took just a couple of minutes for Juan to arrive. Once again we were greeted by a man in his late 50's who wore the biggest smile and the most humble of personalities. Juan drove us into town in his white Chevy compact cab. For such a small car on the outside the interior was fit for three of me. Leg room o'plenty and with the windows down and 90 miles an hour who needs air con? It's probably time to qualify the abundance of leg room comment just made. Perhaps if Juan was over five feet tall I may have struggled.
A few minutes later and we were into the store and Juan stood by for our return. We loaded up with a cooler, 24 bottles of 2 litre water, 18 Corona, Queso, Jamon, Bread, flip flops (cause three days ago I was going to Japan), and several other items. Some of those items may have been corn chips and salsa verde.
Twenty minutes later we emerged and loaded our purchases into Juan's cab. Done and done and we headed back towards El Presidente'. On the way we passed countless locals riding two up on their scooters. No need for rider protection wear in this country. En route back we did have a moment of shock which turned out to be hilarity just as we passed the cruise ship port for the island. Clearly there is no sobriety test required to rent a jeep on this island as the following happened right in front of our eyes.
Two millennial females passed by us like we were standing still. One drove as the other thought it was appropriate to be taking numerous standing selfie videos on her Iphone. They both clearly thought a lot of themselves by their actions & demeanour . The pursed lips and the posing was a dead giveaway. It was just as big a surprise for us as it was to the standing millennial when her driver and former BFF smashed the brake peddle throwing her former and recently standing friend's face into the windshield. Let's just say her selfie career is going to have to be put on hold for a couple of years unless she can get back to Miami and see her plastic surgeon ASAP. Juan uttered a single word "stupido". I like Juan!
Today, breakfast brought huevos rancheros with a healthy amount of pico de gallo, I asked for seconds! You now know where today's blog title fell from. Today brings more sun and tropical breezes. Deanna is lying under a palm umbrella . Allistair is breaking in his snorkelling gear and I sit in the shade telling stories. Bueno!
I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO BIEBER!
Waiter! Back in the States, we call that a Hawaiian Pizza.
Another day in the cradle of civilization went very well if I may say so myself. Given that we had already hit the majority of the “biggies” over the course of the last few outings, today was a day for “a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll”. For those in the crowd that love and pine for the retro tones of Donny and Marie, here’s looking at you kids!We left our place this morning once again on a straight shot to St. Peters. It may sound like we always end up there but actually we always end up there. Not always because we intend to but mainly because it is five minutes from our AirBnB on the way to literally everything else.
We walked straight by this morning except for one deviation as I stopped & watched intently as a plain clothes Roma Police team shook down a Gypsy who was a bit too aggressive with the elderly pilgrims in town for a “god time” not a long time. Just as I had observed a Caribinieri officer smash a “Gypo" for pickpocketing in Florence many moons ago, this was just as entertaining. Perhaps most reading this would think I may have a black heart but these thieving little Bas**ards deserve everything they get.
If you never ventured out of tourist Rome you may think that every Roman gets a mega stipend at birth so they may look, smell and be great. I guess its a rouse, these folks have jobs. We walked past the Italian Navy HQ. White uniforms were the order of the day and there were hundreds. I have been suffering with my obligatory heat rash about the ankles as per usual in this country. Deanna has suffered through many a day and night with me here (mostly Venice or Assisi) & helps me administer the usually useless ointments at the conclusion of every long day. Today I went to a pharmacy and in my best broken Italian asked the chemist what she thought.
Fifteen seconds later with a short confab with her senior and over the counter came a spray pump bottle containing instant relief and reversible symptom treatment within an hour.I have been here numerous times and just plain suffered. Stupid is as stupid does once said a wise ping pong playing man. So with relief came a notion to head to a cafe, have some lunch and a beer or two and then finish it all off with a tiramisu and a wicked smooth espresso. Joy in Mudville peeps, all is well in the world. Fuelled and good to go. 150 meters west and we stood in front of a church I did not recognize. The Church of Gesu’. Im gonna say it, second best and rivalling the best of the bunch we have had the honour to visit. I’m all out of adjectives. Crazy crazy beautiful. After 45 minutes sitting in several seats around the building with our necks cranked way back it was time to think about the off.Uber requested and a six minute wait.
While we wait I will explain todays title. About an hour earlier, all was going smoothly at the Cafe Napoleon. Then Chip and Buffy and their friends Chip and Buffy decided to co-join our table. Buffy 1 had one policy. Only stop talking when food was inserted in her gob. Her incessant jabbering about Alabama was starting to make my ears bleed. Chip 1 didn't say much, I'm not sure he was authorized to. Our waiter was good, multi lingual and really sharp. Buffy 1 wanted pizza. She pointed to the menu in an effort to order. It would have been much easier to annunciate but oh well. The waiter confirmed her choice of prosciutto & pineapple as he clearly didn't get many locals placing that order. He spoke clearly in English to confirm the choice. He read back the toppings. Thats when Buffy 1 tried to explain in “American” that back in the states they call that a Hawaiian Pizza.
Luca tried to keep a straight face however there was a strong hint of you are a stupido oozing out from his every pour. Next came Buffy 2 who only wanted a salad as she was watching her weight (we learned). Buffy 2 wanted to know if she could get ranch dressing on the side. The response from Luca was what kind of dressing? Olio and balsamic, that is what we have. Buffy 2 was just a little stunned as they have ranch dressing back in the states and as it turns out on Carnival Cruise lines too. Chip 1 and Chip 2 ordered pasta carbonara. This prompted Buffy 2 to reconsider her original order. “Could I have a pasta carbonara too waiter? Trump could win….. Buffy 2’s diet starts tomorrow!
Cheers,
Marco
DOES USING UBER MAKE ME A 51 YEAR OLD HIPSTER?
Nine long hours on foot around Rome today. I was “losing power Captain” and I needed some help to keep my happy place and happy face in tact. Just then I discovered a cure for this uncivilized pain. It is app based and it is amazing. Little did I know until late this afternoon as I sat next to a beautiful and cooling fountain in a curiously silent piazza that life doesn't have to be hard. Uber is a thing & it exists in Rome. Angus had the occasion to use it several times in London 3 weeks ago without a hitch. So what the hell, I started an account and began to see the simplicity in this service.I know most of you know everything I'm going to say already, but I was taken with the process and the ability to monitor our Uber’s location on my phone as he made his way for our pick-up. I could see the drivers photo, I knew his name was Massimo and that he would be arriving in a black BMW 5 Series. All of which came true 6 minutes later. Massimo arrived in a Italian tailored suit, sporting short hair and a Roman attitude. This was fine.
The app had sent me a quote for 18 Euros back to our Air BnB. Twelve minutes later and we were there. Slick, cool and a must do-over for sure.What took us to the piazza that Massimo had just picked us up from you ask? Well I am more than happy to tell you. This morning was a rough one. We got up early again as it seems there has been little in the way of jet lag to suffer through so far. We walked Southeast on Via Aurelia until we reached our first stop of the day back at St. Peters Square. We knew yesterday that the Pope would be giving mass today and as you can imagine so did close to 90.000 faithful present. I never thought that this would happen but it has. I have seen the Pope live and on jumbo-tron. A life memory of epic proportion.
At the conclusion of the outdoor service we wandered back to the Tiber and crossed the Ponte Principe into the centre of Roma. Just like last year I was absolutely blown away with some of the most stunning hole in the wall churches and cathedrals that literally line the streets on both sides and in every direction. You wander into a nondescript doorway to find yourself in a narnian world. You think you are venturing into a phone booth sized room. The next thing you know you are in a room the size of a soccer pitch from end to end and floor to ceiling.
From the Pantheon we walked to the Trevi Fountain. The last time I was here it was closed for a makeover. For those who think a trip to Vegas and its Bellagio or Venetian Hotels are a true and accurate depiction of all that is remarkable about Italy, then think again. Neither are, and in fact they are a soulless misinterpretation for the slack jawed troglodytes that arrive via Southwest Airlines because they love the sounds of the slots and the taste of Marlboro.The Trevi is the real deal. That is marble and lots of it. Those statues were carved not made of plaster of Paris. It is something. If I am lying why was there 5000 visitors standing shoulder to shoulder around me to make a wish and toss a coin into it's pools. It is remarkable. From the Trevi we made our way to the Forum and then on to the Colosseum. That walk has an innate ability to send you back in time. You are riding aboard a chariot or drinking wine under a palm. My retention of Roman history is not fantastic but I do recall that to be a Roman in the those days meant privilege and a life of civility. I believe to some degree the people here are still living a life of privilege.
La Dolce Vita is here in spades. Style is seen on foot, in cars or aboard a screamingly fast scooter. Prada high heeled shoes do work as the perfect accoutrement to a Momo Scooter helmet. Believe me its true.It was time to wander from the crowds, so taking another Rick Steves suggestion we walked west back across the Tiber to Trastevere. Immediately the pace of life slowed and the trattorias and vino bars were full of locals. This is going to be my go to for the remainder of the stay here in the nations capital. Awesome vibe. So here we are back full circle. I forgot to mention several notable moments today. My Lemon Gelato and my macchiato whilst standing at the bar, both were terrific in their own way.
Back at our Air BnB now, I am a converted Uber user. I travelled in BMW luxury. Upon receiving my e-receipt I was pleasantly surprised that the quote sent earlier of 18 Euro was a tad over zealous. The fare ended up being 16.00 Euros. I am a hipster and I didn't even have to swill Portland micro brew over my perfectly trimmed beard whilst wearing a plaid shirt. I call that a good day!
Arivaderci!
Mark
SOMEONE HAS TO DO IT
When it comes to planning, one should always find a location that suits the needs of the planners. On Wednesday what suited us was a local brew pub that has been well thought of for many years. We arrived at Spinnaker's with a lot to do and the need to be refreshed while doing it.Our server was prompt and the order went in without much chatter. Soon after, we were basking in the glow of the amber nectar and turning our mind to contacting more B&B's and hotels to accommodate our weary feet on our epic journey. We sent out a bunch more emails and then turned our focus to rental cars, train tickets and best of all tickets for as many matches at the Rugby World Cup as we can reasonably afford. Lots of web surfing later we were closer to the goal for the evening. The rugby tickets were going on sale again on Friday morning so I would focus on being successful on the day! This is going to be awesome. This trip cannot come soon enough.