O fra tappost

Although my italiano had improved in the past weeks, I still had difficulty at times listening to them - specialmente quando sono stanca oppure quando loro parlano troppo veloce. One mattina while brushing my teeth, zia Teresa came into the bagno and muttered quickly about some pantaloni, calzoni, ecc and thinking she was asking me about what dolci I wanted to eat, I replied sleepily 'No, no dolci, solo caffe latte per me.' And the next thing I knew, she was flashing her underwear to me, gesturing if I needed to wash my underwear and clothes. I was like 'Ahhhh, ok!' Stupida me.

You can tell when a person is very comfortable with you, especially when she took off her bra in front of you. Teresa did just that one evening - slipped out her orange bra in my presence and I sniggered happily. It was a compliment, anche se un po strana. The aunts were both so kind and hospitable, even staying up to open the door for me when I stayed out late with L till 4am. Credo che Teresa never sleeps - mai - and gets up early everyday at 6am to clean the whole house. She changed my towel everyday even when I told her not to, made my caffe latte the way I liked it and brought out the biscotti, cioccolato and frutta like clockwork and made my bed every evening.

Another thing was as much as I tried to speak proper italiano and use i congiuntivi, the locals didn't use it at all. In fatti L always laughed at me whenever I brought up i congiuntivi because I was hoping to practise it. Bo. When I go back to classe in S'pore, I'd tell my teacher Anna Maria and classmates to skip the whole complicated sessions of congiuntivi. Penso che sia meglio cosi! :)Invece I had learnt many new parolaccia and modo di dire.

Specialmente during the weekend all the women in the house were worked into a frenzy, preparing for the upcoming wedding on lunedi. They were showing me their shimmering dresses, shoes and bags while L finally found time on sabato morning to buy his new suit, shirt, tie and shoes. He couldn't be arsed (whats' new) and said in jest 'Non si puo cambiare la cornice, il quadro è quello.' (One cannot change the photo frame, the picture is the same.) Keke. His cousin Gino also taught me to say 'sei gross!' which meant 'you're a big person'. Even le zie taught me to say 'Tu sei un coglione!' (Literally 'you are a testicle').

While L was shopping with his dad, I helped Mel with la verdura that their family friend Enrico had personally delivered from his mercato. He gets the freshest melazane, zucchini, carrote, ravanello, cipolle, pesca, chard-looking leafs, cherry tomatoes on vines and thus they benefit from his regular supplies ogni sabato. Soon L returned triumphant with a brown suit, tie and shoes. Tutti sono felici (all's happy). Pranzo was lovingly sauteed squid and the freshest mussels alongside an insalata from Enrico's greens.

Mel spoilt me too much and threw in the piccante radish when I said I like them. Stuffed, we burned off lunch with a stroll to his nonna to alter his trousers and Linda's dress, followed by a beautiful tramonto (sunset) at the porto. I loved our walks there as we'd poke fun at everything, including the fresh turds of dog shit on the pavement. Pozzuoli is a small town so unfortunately we'd always run into L's amici who'd in turn give me a glance over and ask him questions he knew which were coming.

When we got home feeling slimmer, Mel lined up another sumptuous meal comprising fritata di zucchini and breaded pork loin. Gino and Susy (these two had been going out for 9 long years!) came over too and we lazed around for a few italian minuti which meant forever. L and I drove around the downtown porto waiting forever for his friends, and then finally decided to f%ck them, and headed for Miseno for our first birra at a beachfront bar under the stars.

Soon we were joined by Gino, Susy, Gennaro, Antonio, Mara, Marco, his ragazza Nunzia, and even Felice showed up! I comatosed on the beach chair after one lethal mojito - my head was in a giro del mondo - and I only woke up when L came to check on me and introduced his 2 other simpatici amici, Giampaolo and his ragazza Nuviana. I have a sixth sense for people and took to them immediately. We finished the evening with a last drink at Pozzuoli porto and promised to meet up for caffe domani da Nuviana (which never happened, peccato).

Domenica was another lazy warm day. L drove us to Parco Virgiliano on the hill in an expensive neighbourhood which came with priceless views of Vesuvius and the Naples bay below. In Toscana, I admired the tall cyprese trees - qui, it was the picturesque pino (stone pine tree) that got my attention. They were everywhere; soft round bushes swaying lightly against the clear blue sky - and reminded me of the 'song shu' pine trees in China. Apparently the parco was famoso because according to legend, the poet Virgil was buried here. Bo.

We were sweating by the time we reached the panaromic lookout points where I pointed out the 'love' locks chained to the railing to L. He didn't know they were inspired by the film "Ho Voglia Di Te' (which Tiziano's 'Ti Scattero Una Foto' is on the soundtrack too). What kind of italian is he, man? Hehe. Defeated by the heat, we came back for pranzo of baked lasagne - I always get the biggest portion - and after that Mel served us salsiccia con friarielli, one of L's fav dishes.

The pork sausages were served with the sautéed bitter rapini (broccoli rabe), unique to Napoli. It was an acquired taste which was failing me since I polished tutto on my piatto. Just as I was about to explodere, Mel and Raffaele surprised me with a tray of sfogliatelle and eager smiles - such sweethearts - but I could only nibble on a piece and surrendered. We had to walk to the porto again for the sake of our waistline where L pointed out the Tempio Serapis.

In the past if there was any volcanic activity, the water level within the temple would rise thus serving as a warning sign to the locals. Later that evening we joined Gino, Susy and his altri amici at a Dublin bar where we had birra and fabulous finger food. Greedy me was quffing down my arancini riceballs while eyeing Marco's amazing antipasti platter of proscuitto, mozzarella and olives. I was sempre la sola ragazza asiatica but they never fail to make me feel at home.

Mangia! Mangia!

It's amazing how fast one could put on weight. I was so contenta last week when I lost 2kg eating miserably on my own but since I had arrived at Pozzuoli 3 days ago, I think I'd probably put it back on and di piu (more)! Gulp. It's all Luigi's mamma's fault who fed me round the clock and consistently implored me to 'Mangia! Mangia!' (Eat! Eat!) untill I exploded with buonissimi homecooked pasta, pesce, cane al ragù, insalata, dolci and vino. She'd then asked: 'Ti piace?' (You like?). Si si, certo!

La cucina di mamma è sempre il migliore. Luigi had complained to me that all his mamma cared about now was what's on the menu for Carla. She was worried if I'd eat well and told him not to let me starve and stashed biscotti and acqua in his bag for our day trip to Procida on Friday. Yesterday we had set off for a giro di Napoli, starting from the lively (aka watch your borsa) Spaccanapoli - the infamous straight street that housed rows of cramped miscellanous shops, bars, churches and piazze. I had wanted to bring my camera but L said it was better to leave it at home cos we didn't want to risk it being snatched away. Penso che sia meglio cosi' (I think it's better like this - has become my fav phrase).

It's a pity though as Napoli was indeed beautiful and photogenic once you got past the mad chaos. What stuck me the most was its unpretentiousness and realness. That aside, the magnificent Duomo, with its series of jaw-dropping Mannerist paintings set into the carved glided wooden ceiling above, was stupendo! I've seen a lot of duomos but this artistry was senza parole. It so happened they were celebrating San Gennaro that week and on that day (19 Settembre), the blood of the saint that was kept in 2 vials miraculously turned to liquid.

We saw the priest brought out the vials to the faithful crowds and then hurried to glance at the Castel Nuovo, elegante Palazzo Reale, Galleria Umberto I, Teatro San Carlo (tried to sneak in) and San Francesco di Paolo (chiuso!) at the grande Piazza Plebiscito. I also took a long time to decide on a merenda (snack) and finalmente indulged in a dense sfogiatella frolla, which L preferred over the other flaky version.

For Friday, I was deciding between Ischia or Procida (having been to the infamously expensive neighbour Capri isle) and the smaller, piu rustica Pro-ci-da won hands down since it was just 30mins away in the traghetto (9E for 2-way). The weather was freaking hot yesterday despite the arrival of autumn. We sweated like mad, sizzling under the sun with a birra in hand, and walked a piedi dappertutto, each with a song stuck in our head (me Tiziano, him Cure).

Deciding that the spiaggia was too warm, we found a charming quiet porto where a handful of late-summer turisti were lazing around like the gatti. I went trigger happy, finally found material for my cat photo exhibition next year as the cats posed for me, each dazed under the sizzling sun. I was starving at 2.30pm but held on for a late lunch at Luigi's mom later. We had another birra instead and bought the local dolci 'Le Lingue' - crema-filled pastries shaped like tongues for his famiglia specialmente Gino.

Da sua, his mamma presented me with a huge plate of linguine alla vongole (the sweetest smallest clams), followed by a heap of pesce fritto - made up of alici, small local fishes deboned and flattened, then sprinkled with sale, coated with egg and flour and fried to a nice brown crust. After dinner, we picked up his cousin Gino and went to catch up with his amici - mattissimo Antonio and mild-mannered Gennaro - at Gino's cousin's bar at the porto. The mojitos were kickarse and soon I was saying 'O fra! Tappost?!' (local slang for 'Yo brother, all's good?) to all the ragazzi.

The boys were soon getting too loud especially Ant who wanted to dance and he drove us sigaretta in mouth and fist pumping the air, blasting the music in his macchina, to a packed local ristorante-pub La Bavarese. I was the only Asian persona there among a mad throng of drunk locals openly checking out one another. Le ragazze were all wearing boots, short skirts and low tops with their huge titties hanging out. I suffered from the worst tits envy here. Veramente (really).

We drank more Sangria and the boys stuffed their faces with tapas and bruschette. I was shivering with cold and dragging on my sigaretta outside, wondering how these girls could endure the late-night chill in their skimpy state. We left for another bar Molt and then a cafe at the porto for caffe. Ant insisted I have one too but it was almost 4am so I declined, otherwise I'd not sleep. L was too brillo (high) to drive back so I took over the wheels and drove back piano piano (slow) on the right side. When we reached home, we both pronounced me 'brillante'.

Napolitana zitella

I slept like a maiale again and left Perugia early at 10am and caught the no.9 bus to the stazione in time for the 11.18am treno to Napoli C.LE (freaking' 43E!), switching to an Eurostar at Roma Termini. Avevo moltissssimo fame e fortunatamente ho avuto di 20mins di comprare un tramezzino (sandwich) to munch on untill 3.55pm arrival time. I always love train rides and for the first time on this trip, I could truly kick back in style (Eurostar is un po' caro ma it's the best money could buy) and savour the dusty plains and majestic mountains as we pulled away from Lazio to Campania.

The treno was like a gentle roller coaster sailing in air lulling everyone to sleep in their deep cushy seats. I was deep in thoughts singing to Tiziano Ferro while reflecting on the last 2 weeks. Si, some things had not turned out the way as planned but the adventures were best taken with a pinch of salt and a huge dose of humour. And the faith I had in most of my italian amici was strengthened, plus I had rediscovered the joys of travelling da sola. Si, it's all coming back to me now. Anyway I couldn't wait for the next leg of my journey as I'd be staying with Luigi's 2 zie (aunts) and his whole famiglia was waiting for me to show up at Pozzuoli, just outside of Napoli citta.

At the stazione, Piazza Garibaldi was still in a chaos and there was a public scuffle which broke out between a screaming lady and a short man among curious onlookers. Benvenuta a Napoli! Nothing had changed even after 2 years. My first impression of this 3rd largest citta in Italia was initially of shock and doubt but it grew on me quickly, its caos and energy made one constantly on the edge. Luigi found me easily - I didn't think it was that difficile to find a short Asian ragazza with a backpack. It was good to see him finally, amazingly we had managed to stay in touch all this time and he was a dearer friend than ever.

We took the treno to Pozzuoli, a charming seaside town, where the first stop was at his casa and the first people I met were his sweet parents Melina and Raffaele, 22-year old sorella Linda and Michela, the 9-month old baby girl of his cousin, also named Linda (whose brother was named Luigi too!). Soon zia Teresa arrived and we hopped over to her place where I'd be staying over and met her elder sorella, zia Adele who welcomed me with a tray of dolci (yum) and was giving English tuition to a rather reluctant 15 year-old Felice (Michela's oldest brother). Fortunatamente she's a dottore in English so she'd definitely make my life less stressata.

Then we hopped over to his mamma's famiglia where his 78-year old nonna, aunts, uncles and cousins were waiting for us too. It seemed that word of my arrival had spread and Luigi seemed more nervous than me, warning me of a possibile Inquisition - possibly worse than il controllo (customs). I laughed it off; nothing unfazed the PR queen since my job required adept social skills, handy for meeting strangers. Nonna and 2 zie were already waiting at the open doorway as we stepped out of the tiny lift and were thrown into a living room full of curious relatives.

The questions came fast and furious, they wanted to know everything - 'Come ti chiami? Di dove sei? Spore è vicino Cina o Giappone? Quanti anni hai? Che fai? Che parli a Spore? Che bei capelli!' - as the youngest zia Silvana fed me with the dolci of torta caprese and mini cupcakes she made for the San Gennaro festa (he's the patron saint of Napoli) and another zio opened a bottiglia of his homemade vino bianco. Nonna sat there beaming amid a flurry of new faces, names and handshakes, as I ate and drank to the insistent 'Mangia! Mangia!' (Eat! Eat!). They watched a home video of their latest vacanza in Sardegna and soon the kids and nonna were on their feet dancing to the tune of some pop hits.

Outside on the balcone, it was fresco and tranquillo as the aunts chatted with me some more in full view of the Anfiteatro across the road, incidentally the 2nd (or 3rd?) largest in Italia. Si, che incredibile! We hurried back to his folks where his mamma made yummilicious pasta with pesce, followed by more prawns and fish, cheese and olives and vino. I stuffed my face as if I hadn't eaten in years. I think I had just about regained my buon appetito :P - burp. After dinner, we walked to the porto to meet his cousin Luigi (lets call him Gino) and amico Gennaro (auguri!), and later rode back on their moto. Such fun!

Assisiiiii e me

I slept like a maiale (pig) from 10pm till 8am and got up to grab a standard caffe latte and brioche before catching the 9.30am (3,10E) bus at Piazza Parmigiani to Assisi, a hilltop town one hour away. It was extremely ventoso (windy) and un po fresco; the sky threatened to pour. The trip was quite rilassante as we passed through verdant hills and climbed the steep slopes where the looming vision of the Basilica di San Francesco came into sight. Exactly 10 years ago, Umbria was hit by serial earthquakes and the Basilica at Assisi bore the brunt of it. However it seemed to survive the damages and is now the most visited town in Umbria, especially among followers of their local hero St Francis as well as St Chiara.

I found my way easily to the first stop, the pretty Cathedrale at Piazza Rufino which led to the gorgeous Santa Chiara, a pink-white basilica with a big-arse crowded terrace piazza overlooking the scenic countryside below. I then made my way, shielding my eyes and fly-away hair from the violent wind, to the main Piazza Comune where old men chilled out with the pigeons and people-watched insieme.

Finally more cosy lanes led me to the stunning Basilica di San Francesco where I secretly took a forbidden photo inside (terribile me!). There were the Upper and Lower sections, plus the underground crypt where St Francis' tomb lay. I'm not the most religious persona but it was rather enchanting to see the devotees praying on their knees, hands clasped to his tomb while strains of monks chanting echoed in the background.

Not hungry again (imagine me!), I bought a panino and thè limone and sat by a pretty ledge to savour the views before getting restless and walked around the whole town to hunt for cats. Assisi was stupendo, each backlane was quaint like Cortona, but almost prettier. Each doorframe was decorated with blooming flower pots and I was always drawn to the ornate doorknobs and weathered frames.

I tried to shoot 3 cats but they were hard to pin down and the settings were not ideal. At this point, I seemed to have more photos of pigeons (dead and alive, si a bit morbid) as well as overhanging lamp posts. Maybe I'd change the photo exhibit to 'Cats & Pigeons' next year, hahahahaha. I was ready to go but have to wait for the bus at 5plus so I wandered around more to explore every little lane.

Anyway you must be wondering about the dinner with the guy right?? Lui si chiama Arturo (I never heard of it before), he's 35, orignally from Calabria and is in Informazioni in Medici. I asked him 'Dove andiamo?' and he suggested a pizzeria (I was screaming inside 'noooooooooo') but said 'ok, va bene' and we strolled down the breezy Corso Vannucci, talking about how our day was. I asked him to show me the Università Per Stranieri which he did and then he tried to hold my hand to which I said noooooooooo and brushed his hand away. He got the message and from then, we just hang out - like two strangers who needed desperate company.

I felt like his therapist, come Bruce Willis in the film 'Sixth Sense', while he poured his problems to me. He confided that he has a sort-of ragazza (Polish) whom he was trying to woo with a bunch of flowers and lettera he sent today - to which I told him 'che fai qui con me? Devi andare da sua ora' (what are you doing here with me? You have to go to her place now). But he said she didn't like him to go over on weekdays. He liked her but she's un po fredda (cold). I nodded thinking secretly this guy has no chance with her and advised him to 'stai tranquillo, non c'e fretta. Noi donne non ci piace fretta'. (Chill, don't rush it, we women don't like rush)

He spoke poco inglese but surprisingly I understood most of what he said - guess he must be quite patient with all the straniere (foreign girls) he used to date. Over a Margherita pizza (surprisingly not bad), he told me about his ex Indonesian girlfriend who was much younger than him and un po come bambina (childish). They had argued and she went out to sleep with another man, and he got infected cos 'non c'e protezione' and he had to go on antibiotics for 2 months (I almost choked on my birra when I finally understood what he was saying). He had slept with 20 donne and I laughed in jest 'Che bravo!'.

Apart from his love-sex life, we spoke about Italia, la vita, lavoro, ecc and that 'Perugini sono stupidi'. The funniest thing he told me was that he hates Italian ragazze cos they 'fanno poco sesso' and were mostly lesbians - to which I mocked 'No! Non ti credo'. 'è vero', he affirmed seriously. We strolled around and hang out at Piazza IX Nov till 10pm cos he had to sleep and he told me I gave him a lot of 'serenita' that night and I was molto 'intelligente' while he was 'stupido' for not speaking inglese. Hehe. That was really a funny episode, not as bad as you'd imagine. I guess he's just a harmless lonely man looking for a listening ear. Well, he found the right candidate as I had all the time in the world.

Umbria la la la

Sta mattina sono partita Spoleto per Perugia in treno e ho preso l'autobus per Piazza Italia nel centro historico. Part of me was sad to leave Spoleto - even though I didn't get a room with a view, I still got a nice room. I was lucky to reach the stazione at 9.50am on the free bus ride (I've learnt to get away with not buying a biglietto, ok shoot me) and found there was a treno to Perugia at 9.55am! And at Perugia, I found Hotel Eden easily where I got the last single room for 45E! What luck! Fortunatamente! Yipeeee!

I hugged myself in joy and ran out to see Perugia - there was a good buzz along Corso Vannucci, sicuramente piu vivace di Spoleto. It was a good mix of a modern citta and ancient town. The Frommer guidebook was very useful and in an hour, I had explored most of the city centre. My stomach was growling even though I had no appetito. Merda. I was dreading lunch perche I had to mangiare pasta o pizza!!! Arrrghhh!!!! There were too many pizzeria here, maybe to support the thriving student community. The recommended Da Cesarino ristorante seemed too turistico so I picked the nearby corner Tavern La Gabbia where I chowed down the tagiatelle al porcini (7E) and a bicchiere di vino rosso (2E) - non è male (not bad) but a bowl of chinese soup would be my saviour.

I took a nap for the first time on the trip and left the MTV on till 7pm when I had to get some fresh air. No hunger still so I walked around aimlessly and ran into the English couple (from Spoleto) whom recognised me and we had a good 10-min chat! I always seemed to meet nice retired English couples. Tired, I nursed a birra Peroni (it's actually better than Moretti) and wished for a sigaretta but went to a hotdog shop to 'tah bao' one for the night.

Just when I was nibbling it on the way back, a bookish bespectacled man with flyaway floppy hair came alongside, smiled and said 'Buon Appetito' and I said 'Grazie'.
H: 'Buono?'
Me: 'è cosi-cosi'
H: 'Di dove sei?'
Me: 'Sono di S'pore. Lei sa dove?' (I love to test them on their geography)
H: 'Si, è vicino Indonesia'
Me: 'Bravo!'
H: 'Sono italiano' (I rolled my eyes and we introduced ourselves.)
H: 'Che fai?'
Me: 'Io?' (I wanted to shoot myself for sounding stupida - who self was he asking then!) 'Sono in pubbliche relazioni'
H: 'Hai fidanzato?' (Hahaha, they always ask this question)

Anyway in just 5 mins walking to my hotel, he asked me if I want to have dinner tomorrow. I looked at him for one sec and based on my well-honed sleaze-radar, he seemed to score quite low on the scale. And let's put it this way, if a serial rapist came to chat me up, I'd have bought him a 3-course dinner - with vino too. Si, I wanted company that badly. We agreed to meet at 7.30pm domani.

Basta pasta liao

The only person I could have a relatively unstressed conversation here at Spoleto was with the kind chubby bespectacled sister at the convento. In her calm presence, I could speak comprehensibly and in return she nodded sweetly and understood tutto that I said. This morning, I woke up and decided to leave for Perugia domani because there was nothing much left for me here, so I went to pay her and collect my passaporto in case she was not sinking in her reclined worn armchair in her living room watching a religious programme on TV.

Me: Buongiorno, posso pagare adesso? Perche domani partiro molto presto per Perugia.
Sorella: Si certo. Allora vieni. Ecco, è suo?
Me: Si si, grazie. Eh, numero sei.
S: Tre notti?
Me: Si si. Quanta costa?
S: Ottanta euros (she gave me 10E disconto, so just 80E for 3 nights!). Mi dispiace che non puo avere una stanza con la vista.
Me: Non c'e problema. Tutto bene. Questa è la mia seconda volta qua e mi piace molto. é molto tranquillo e comodo. Grazie. Tornerò la prossima volta!
S: Si, ti ricordi da 2 anni. Dove andrai?
Me: Napoli e partiro da Roma.
S: Che fai?
Me: Sono in pubbliche relazioni. Ho la mia azienda a Spore.
S: Ma che brava!
Me: Grazie (beaming like the roses outside in their bella courtyard)

I did jackshit today, just wandered around the Duomo and ate pranzo at an Osteria dell'Enoteca where the waiter gave me the honourary table for single diners outside under the arco where everyone could see what I was eating. Nice. No pasta per me, grazie. I was molto malosa of the local strangozzi al tartufo which was on every menu here, instead I chomped down on the braciole di maiale (porkchop) and a much needed insalata mista (yummm vegs) washed down with a glass of Merlot (tutto costa 14E). When I was busy writing and photographing the dish, the waiter said 'Che fai? Assagia il braciole subito!' (What are you doing? Eat the porkchop now!) I left him a one euro tip.

That evening at 5.30pm, Aless gave me a personal tour of Spoleto's ancient sections away from the crowds as we nipped into small backlanes and saw the wells where they used to collect acqua. He was so formale and cordiale that it was no longer piacevole. I wondered what's up with him man? Anyway he followed up with an obligatory drive around the outskirts to San Giacomo and then back to Piazza Garibaldi per qualche cocktails at the sempre crowded local bar which I detesto.

Everyone was staring at me like I was naked - maybe they never saw an Asian in their circle before. The waitress was such a bitch and Aless knew it. In some ways italians could be quite xenophobic. Allora I had 2 prosecco and 2 sigarette before caro Alberto drove me in his mini antica Renault to his bella casa in the nearby hills. He's the sweetest and most popular guy in town for everyone would say ciao to him and vice versa. Four of us had pizza and birra outside in his garden under the stars. Era molto tranquillo e un po fresco. Tonight was my last night here and I thanked them for their kind hospitality, wondering if I'd see them again.

Rocca on in Spoleto

I woke up smiling at 10am - ahhh, so shiok to sleep till so late. Too lazy to go to Perugia today so I grabbed a caffe latte at my usual bar at Piazza del Mercato where a Chinese auntie was hawking pirated Dvds to the 2 sheepish barmen. I pretended to focus on Beyonce and Shakira shaking their booty on MTV. Feeling energetic, I climbed the steep slopes to the Rocca Alb, a medieval castello and fortress atop the hill, because I had more or less explored all of Spoleto the last time. It was really that small - I could wander around blindfolded and still not get lost.

I met an elderly English couple from Brighton and I advised them on the route around the Rocca as if I was a local guide, haha. We agreed that Americans are mostly ignorant about the world and that Firenze is our favourite citta in the world despite being overrun by tourists. At 2pm, my tummy was growling in protest but I had lost my appetito because 1) my constant companion was not here anymore! 2) I'm feeling a bit homesick and craving for a bowl of hot soup! Instead I bought a ham-cheese sandwich and bottle of tè limone and chilled in my room till 6pm. It was too hot to go out and more relaxing lying in bed with a book and listening to la musica.

At 7pm, I met Alberto per una birra at the Piazza della Libertà and he looked so pleased to see me. He looked great, well-scrubbed and as jovial as ever! We climbed up to the bar by the romano Ponte dei Torri and laughed about Dario. At 8pm, we drove to the crowded P. Garibaldi to meet up with Aless and their amici Luca and Alessandra for another tipple. Luca spoke inglese (kinda a relief for me) and was a real jolly big fellow with a worldly way, being in the military. That evening, we drove to the nearby industrial urban town Terni ('molto brutto' according to them) 25mins away, for dinner at a trendy ristorante 'Tomato'. All the other bars and ristoranti (also with English names) were packed to the tilt with hip dressy youngsters.

I reckoned these italians ate too fast, too salty, too much meat and not enough raw vegetables here. I was trying to catch up with the 4 antipasti which they wolved down with their basket of pane and was the last to finish my parrecchi (tube pasta) stuffed with crabmeat and broccoli in a pool of pomodoro salsa. As usual, they all had manzo con patate. We left at midnight and went back to Spoleto's bar for a nightcap and at that point, I felt a bit defeated as they rattled on in rapid italiano and I could capire niente lor. Sigh. Aless sent me back to the convento in his new flashy Opel 2-seater and said we'd meet up at 5pm domani after he had lunch with his mamma, wah lao eh! His only day off! And he lives with his mother lor.

Italiana practica ora

Every meal F and I had, we saluted to povero Dario, without whom we'd never come to experience Cortona, Arezzo and Firenze. We'd look back and have a good laugh and piss everytime we recall that episode. On Friday, F and I hugged and said arrivederci alla stazione di Firenze as we caught separate trains heading towards Roma. I wanted to cry as I had gotten used to her great company and now I had to fly solo! Argggh.

We had the best of time and I was glad she got to enjoy a better understanding of the Italian culture. And I've forever ingrained in her 'sinistra' (left) and 'destra' (right) and the numeri from 'zero' to 'dieci' (10). Hahaha. Plus she got to experience the stupenda ospitalità and amicizia of my italian amici including Elena, Alberto, Paolo, Iris, Gianluca and Lorenzo whom she thought were all molti simpatici!

After we parted ways, I finally arrived at Spoleto after switching trains at Orte and Alessandro was there to pick me up at the stazione at 1.15pm as promised. It was most strano to meet him again after 2 years and we've managed to stay in touch via email and sms. He didn't changed a bit, anche Spoleto which was blazing warm. It was a charming and quaint small town which I still recalled fondly. Without a mappa, I could find my way from the convento on the hilltop (where I'd be camping out for the next few days until I have decided where to go next). The kind chubby bespectacled sister said she recognised me! Davvero!?

The town was dead on this Venerdi afternoon and I took a nap after blogging and waited for Aless to finish work at 8.30pm. Allora, my italian practicum had began as lui non parla inglese at all lor - wah lao eh, jia lat man! :) But luckily I was able to perform with more wine I sipped at dinner. He surprised me with a reservation at a cosy intimate ristorante called 'Il Tempio di Gusta' (The Temple of Taste), which was more like il tempio d'amore, with all these twosomes peering over candle light in a rather dim ambience. I was trying to read the menu without burning it over the open flame.

We ordered the messy deconstructed starter (it's a bit modern-style here) of stuffed zucchini flower with fresh ricotta and culatello. With him staring tenderly at me, I couldn't finish it. Gulp. I drank more vino rosso and tried to slurp the strangozzi al tartufo nero in a ladylike manner. Very difficile lor. But it was nice to go on a real date - I hadn't done this for such a long time! That night I slept like a bebe in the convento, it always made me feel safe and secure.

Firenze di nuovo

Oggi siamo partite per Firenze, our favourite citta in the whole wide world! It's funny how each time by some twist of fato (fate) that we manage to find our way there. The last 3 times for me was not planned (I have been there 4 times!), this time courtesy of Dario, we found ourselves back at the grandest Renaissance citta and I'd see mio caro amico Lorenzo again and maybe the rest like Guiddo (The Count) who had let me stay 3 nights at his appartamento near the Boboli gardens 2 years ago. Now Lorenzo had kindly offered us his place saying 'I'm so happy to offer you hospitality!', too bad he had to give up his German sheperd Ciro when he moved back to the citta. Ciro was my constant companion on Barbialla Nuova, the sweetest dog I know.

Anyway it paid to have friends - I was kinda relieved cos I hadn't budgeted for these 2 extra weeks where I'd be at the fattoria. Ferne was leaving on Friday and I was thinking what should I do? Should I beg Lore to let me stay for a week and maybe I'd be his domestic (maid)? Or should I travel around - maybe go to Sardegna where I'd always wanted to visit? I could ask Lore for advice since it's his hometown. Oh well, I'd go with the flow. Anyway it's own time, own target!

Lore picked us up at Piazza delle Cure - he looked great in his office getup, long curls and wrinkly dreamy smiling eyes. He dropped us off at his folks' appartamento and told me to call Marco who was leaving town for Barcelona, and apologised he couldn't keep us company. I said 'Non preoccupati, sono a casa.' It's vero. I could walk around Firenze without a mappa and not get lost. We hurried to Santo Spirito (my fav local hangout) and enjoyed long twisted pasta strands con zucchine and gnocchi alla gorgonzola e rucola, toned down with cold birra Moretti. Another toast to Dario!

The waiter was suitably impressed with my italiano accento and thought we were studenti! F said when we are 40, they'd still think we are in our 20s (speriamo - we wish!) After the hearty pranzo, we went window shopping around the Duomo and San Lorenzo. The tourist mobs were mattissimi specialmente at the Duomo, Uffizi, Ponte Vecchio and Piazza Signore. I'd always remembered Marco telling me Firenze has been robbed by the tourists and it'd never progressed, stuck in time for the tourist dollar. It was a double-edged sword.

In the evening, we promised ourselves another taste of the local specialty - bistecca alla fiorentina - which we had first tried in 2000. This time, we hunted it down at Trattoria del Carmine where the flirty married young waiter sat us among 10 Japanese diners and served us our starter of spaghetti alla vongole (very flat taste). The 600g slab of bloody bistecca (26E) arrived on a board, cut up at the table. It was so tender, flavoured with just salt and pepe. On our way back to catch the bus, I recognised the trendy bar Dolce Vita where David Rocco had filmed an episode - so chic chic! Pui.

The next morning just as we thought Lore had left for work, he gave us a fright and made us jumped when he crept up quietly from his bedroom. We arranged to meet up for lunch later at a local mercato near his workplace. I had no recollection of climbing the Duomo so our first stop was there to beat the crowd. Luckily the queue was painless, just 20mins and soon we were climbing in the narrow cramped stairway to the top. I got a little claustrophobic halfway whereas F was sweating like mad.

This was a fat person's nightmare as well as the big-sized angmohs easily occupied the whole tunnel while we could squeezed past them. The vista was worth the climb and the narrow hole soon became an open space on a tight terrace where we sat down on the smooth cold marble against the vandalised columns and looked out to the bella citta on this clear blue day. A grander version of Siena, Firenze looked so surreal and tranquilla from here, best captured in sepia or black-white (can you spot me in the foto?).

We hurried down the same stairway to meet Lore at the nearby Mercato San Ambrogio where the locals frequent, away from the tourists. There was an outdoor trippa panino kiosk where David Rocco had also featured - a fast food concept where locals grab a fast cheap snack. We waited for a table at the crowded Trattoria Da Rocco (also featured in Rocco's program) and F's soft zucchine stuffed with minced meat cooked in pomodoro was easily better than my ordinario penne. Anyway I was yakking too much to eat and we were laughing so hard about Dario. Lore had worked with me before on a WWOOF farm so he could sympathise with our situation.

He returned to work on his bicycle while we popped into a pasticceria for a lovely palm-sized glazed fig custard tart and ate it by a kiosk filled with books. I also text Aless to ask if it's ok for me to show up on venerdi and he called back to say that'd be great and would pick me up alla stazione! Yipeee. We did a spot of shopping (a bag for me and Tod's for F) and F bought the most expensive gelato (8E) from this cretina ragazza who was obviously trying to rip us off.

Since this was our last evening together, we decided to splurge on food, starting at the crowded wine bar 'Le Volpi e L'uva' at Piazza dei Rossi. Lore and Marco had previously recommended this place to me and asked me to look for their amico Ciro. I spotted him easily but dared not say ciao. We sighed and lamented that we'd miss all these cheap and delicious prosecco (2,50E each only!) and the joy of snacking freely on the best proscuitto. I was quite high and full when we got our tavolo at the ever popular Trattoria La Casalinga where the boys and I dined before.

The solemn-looking waiter was quite the joker and brought us our starter of carciofio e grana. F never tried artichokes while I loved them but never had them raw. We didn't really fancy the floral stalk bouquet and fibrous cardboard texture. It was tasteless on its own but lifted slightly by the grana cheese, lemon juice, olive oil, balsamico, sale e pepe. The mains fared better although I couldn't say much for the presentation.

The coniglio al forno (7E) looked dry but the rabbit meat tasted good flavoured by rosemary and olive oil. The American couple next to us had all the safe choices (ravioli, roast chicken and tons of bread swimming in olive oil) and were staring at us as we attacked the generous plate of trippa alla fiorentina (5,50E) - pure Fear Factor for them but quite comforting for us since the thin chewy slivers were stewed in tomatoes for a long time.

By the time we were done at 10plus, we were exhausted and decided not to meet Lore for drinks. Instead we admired the Ponte Vecchio and Duomo under the silvery moonlight one last time before heading back on the 'free' bus. Firenze was all the more magical at night as the tourists retreated and you could have the bella citta to yourselves. I felt at home here and could imagine me living here.