Riina & Dan

Turns out it was 40 degrees today at 17:00. Probably hotter earlier. Same temperature as the previous day. Just for those of you who may think I’m whinging about the heat.

I think I was nearly pick-pocketed today. I’m generally a front of the pants kind of guy when it comes to wallets and mobiles.  This is generally OK in jeans – but not so much in my shorts which have more of a wide open top. We got on a bus after a 3 hour walking tour ( +40 degrees with no clouds ), dinner and several very welcome beers ( and the rest of the wine Riina couldn’t finish ). As we were squishing in, I felt some pressure on my leg and my 10 ninja training caused my hand to jump  to my hip, where I think, but I’m not sure, a hand was quickly withdrawn from my pocket. On later analysis with Riina, the guy’s female accomplice was pushing into Riina ( with her fat wobbly arse ) who was then obliged to push into me. We reckon it’s all part of a distraction attempt whilst my pocket was supposed to be picked.  They quickly moved down the bus and got off a stop or two later.

Well, we’re off to our non air-conditioned apartment to lie under a fan.

Buona notte!

Here’s a photo of our little apartment, €80 per night, no AC. The fan works well tho, and it’s quite ok, if a little warm.

The last post may have sounded a little negative – and I hadn’t even mentioned the most annoying thing – I had a block of Lindt Dark Mint chocolate in my backpack. I was sensible enough to remove it before traipsing around Rome on a 35+ day, but not careful enough to check that I’d removed all of it. 15 minutes into our 3 hour tour, I jammed my hand into my backpack looking for something when it came out wet. I thought initially that it was sunscreen lotion, but no – chocolate. It was all over my hand, passport, Lonely planet, notepad, pacer, ( inside the packet for the extra pacer leads ), but thankfully not on the camera, SD cards or iPod. Small graces. Someone’s God must love/hate me.

Here’s me at the Roman Forum. After moving all my non-chocolate coated stuff to Riina’s backpack.

Flying to Rome’s Fiumicino airport went smoothly on Finnair. When we got to the terminal however, the pilot explained that we could leave the plane, but couldn’t yet leave the entry concourse. So, we all piled out of the plane and stood in the hot corridor, just outside the plane. Meanwhile, a chap was desperately swiping a card through a card reader, and talking on the phone. After about 10 minutes, a old maintenance guy ( Scruffy from Futurama ) turned up with a screwdriver and proceeded to pull the machine apart. 5 minutes of this and we were sent down another door and two stair cases. Thwarted once more, the doors here failed to open. By the time we reached these doors, the original doors opened. Welcome to Italy

The train ride in went past some derelict buildings which now appear to be used as a rubbish tip. Meanwhile, the guys behind us where amazingly obnoxious – banging the lid of the ash tray in time with some crappy eurotrash music playing out of his mobile phone.

Finally, we arrived at our destination only to discover I’d booked an apartment with no AC, on a day which was 37 degrees. The fact that it was totally my fault didn’t help. At least it was a ground floor flat with a fan and some solid concrete walls which had kept some of the coolness.

Must dash. 30 seconds left at the internet cafe!

We’re in Rome. It’s hot!

Despite the swealtering heat we took the walking tour of Roman monuments this afternoon, which was great.

It’s too frecking hot to write anything else.

Well, we’re just about to leave Finland. We’ve spent the last night & day in Helsinki catching up with friends, hanging out in old favorite haunts and enjoying the familiar sights and sounds. We had dinner and drinks in Belge, a bar / restaurant with the look of an old library or well stocked study, with stocked bookshelves to the ceiling.

We’ll be in Rome soon.

29 hours in a tin can is’t that bad in the scheme of things. 29 hours in a tin can, 10km up, travelling at ~850 km/h for 12 hours. And we’re complaining about the food. The extraordinary becomes mundane. Continue Reading »