I was really high yesterday!

But only because I'd climbed up 463 (count them!) steps to the top of the Duomo (big dome in a church) in Florence. Apart from that, I was sober.

Hello everybody.

So, yeah, went to Florence yesterday. It took 3.5 hours to get there, so it was quite a long day, but on the way I was sitting next to an American guy, who was quite cool. The city is very picturesque, with lots of historic streets and churches, including the main one, the San Maria del Fiore. Here's a picture of Florence, taken from the roof of the Duomo:

Also, in case you've forgotten what my rugged good looks look like, here's a shot of me on the roof too:

The Duomo has been painted on the inside with lots of angels and demons and is very interesting. However, it's very high up, and the walkway is very narrow, so if you're like me and endure a troubled relationship with heights, then you wouldn't have appreciated the leaden-footed tourists in front of me, who prolonged my discomfort so they could get photos taken of them doing very crass, touristy things. Bloody tourists. Sadly my camera is not that great when it comes to taking photos of things inside or in the dark, so my pictures aren't quite up to the high standard that you'd normally expect from the internet.

If you're a fan of art, then Florence is the place for you. I'm not really, but when I was told that at one point, all four of the Ninja Turtles lived there, I was raring to go. Apparently they were also decent at art, so there were just lots of pictures by them, and not a peep about Shredder or Krang, not even Bee-Bop or Rock Steady. This, as you can imagine friends, was disappointing. I'd at least have expected a Via Splinter, or a pet shop called 'Heroes in a Half Shell', but nope, nothing. Philistines.

It was a very nice wee day trip though, and a pleasant break from my hectic, work-a-holic lifestyle here in Genova. But this is now drawing to an end, and in 5 days time I'll be back and able to share the winter weather with you. My tan will look even better by contrast.

Bear with me, while I get all deep. Last year when I went to America, I positively revelled in being by myself for 4 weeks and doing all types of exciting and stupid things. Here, is different, and I've come to realise that although I've done some stupid things here too, they exist solely in my memory. Although I can tell you about them, only I will be able to reminisce about them. In a way this is nice, and it means that they're mine, but at the same time, they have no relevance to you guys at all, so they won't have the same meaning to you. The night Stevie and I were out and I saw a rat, after just commenting that I wanted to take a photo of one, is only a memory for us, and probably seems fairly unremarkable. However, this can be said of pretty much everything I've done here, which is a little disspiriting. In years to come, something might happen, and I might turn and say, "oh, do you remember when that happened in Italy?", and then I'll remember that you won't. As I've had lots of Michael-time lately, my thoughts have moved on from all the pretty girls, and are now more analytical about life and junk. Overall, this has left me a little bit sad.

That said, I've had a really good time with Stevie et al, and so these memories will have meaning to us, which is quite cool.

Right, back to the banal nonsense.

There are lots of accordian players here, busking. There are far more than you would reasonably expect, in fact. I've not seen any accordian shops, but they must do a roaring trade. They're generally played by gypsies, or Romany types, as I believe they prefer to be called. There are also lots of travelling bands of minstrels who try to serenade you while you sit outside having a beer. They are invariably followed by guys trying to sell you tat. My favourite item of tat that I've seen is a lighter that also shoots out a light that when shone on a flat object is a picture of a naked lady. Utter crap, but mildly amusing for about 5 seconds. I've proposed that Stevie and I find out where they live, and then when they're sharing a bottle of cooking wine one evening, we should go round and try to sell them tins of shortbread, toy highland cows, and play bagpipes at them, badly. See how they like them apples.

The other night when we were in La Lepre, the bar started to close, so we moved inside. An old, homeless smelling guy came in too, and the staff seem to know him, so I didn't squirm too uncomfortably when he sat next to me. However, he was very hard to understand, and he said something to me that sounded as if it was either "chivalrous", or "syphelis". Cue squirming, and covering my glass so he couldn't spit his chivalry anywhere near me. I apologised and explained that either he was drunk, I was drunk, or we were both very drunk, and so couldn't understand each other. I really hope he didn't say syphelis! Euuuuurgh!

I can't think of much else just now folks, so I think I'll go. I reckon I'll squeeze one more post in before I leave, so look forward to that I'm sure you will.

Until then, think kindly of me and prepare to buy me a beer.

Cheers,

Arrivederci