It seems we are to have a Music Festival in our neck of the woods this summer. Not quite within walking distance (thank heavens) but close enough to give consideration. Maybe the boss will buy us a couple of VIP tickets?
Friday, June 27, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Trivia with a topical twist?
The Next time you are washing your hands and complain because the water temperature isn't just how you like it, think about how things used to be....
Here are some facts about the 1500s:
Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they were starting to smell so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odour.
Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it-hence the saying,? "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water."
Houses had thatched roofs - thick straw - piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the dogs, cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof -hence the saying "It's raining cats and dogs."
There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could really mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.
The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt, hence the saying "dirt poor." The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on the floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they kept adding more thresh until when you opened the door it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entranceway - hence, a "thresh hold."
Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or "upper crust."
Lead cups were used to drink ale or whiskey. The combination would sometimes knock them out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up - hence the custom of holding a "wake."
England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a "bone house" and reuse the grave. When re-opening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they thought they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell.
Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the "graveyard shift") to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be "saved by the bell" or was considered a "dead ringer".
And that's the truth...?? (and whoever said that History was boring?!)
Here are some facts about the 1500s:
Most people got married in June because they took their yearly bath in May and still smelled pretty good by June. However, they were starting to smell so brides carried a bouquet of flowers to hide the body odour.
Baths consisted of a big tub filled with hot water. The man of the house had the privilege of the nice clean water, then all the other sons and men, then the women and finally the children last of all the babies. By then the water was so dirty you could actually lose someone in it-hence the saying,? "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water."
Houses had thatched roofs - thick straw - piled high, with no wood underneath. It was the only place for animals to get warm, so all the dogs, cats and other small animals (mice, bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained it became slippery and sometimes the animals would slip and fall off the roof -hence the saying "It's raining cats and dogs."
There was nothing to stop things from falling into the house. This posed a real problem in the bedroom where bugs and other droppings could really mess up your nice clean bed. Hence, a bed with big posts and a sheet hung over the top afforded some protection. That's how canopy beds came into existence.
The floor was dirt. Only the wealthy had something other than dirt, hence the saying "dirt poor." The wealthy had slate floors that would get slippery in the winter when wet, so they spread thresh (straw) on the floor to help keep their footing. As the winter wore on, they kept adding more thresh until when you opened the door it would all start slipping outside. A piece of wood was placed in the entranceway - hence, a "thresh hold."
Bread was divided according to status. Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family got the middle, and guests got the top, or "upper crust."
Lead cups were used to drink ale or whiskey. The combination would sometimes knock them out for a couple of days. Someone walking along the road would take them for dead and prepare them for burial. They were laid out on the kitchen table for a couple of days and the family would gather around and eat and drink and wait and see if they would wake up - hence the custom of holding a "wake."
England is old and small and the local folks started running out of places to bury people. So they would dig up coffins and would take the bones to a "bone house" and reuse the grave. When re-opening these coffins, 1 out of 25 coffins were found to have scratch marks on the inside and they realized they had been burying people alive. So they thought they would tie a string on the wrist of the corpse, lead it through the coffin and up through the ground and tie it to a bell.
Someone would have to sit out in the graveyard all night (the "graveyard shift") to listen for the bell; thus, someone could be "saved by the bell" or was considered a "dead ringer".
And that's the truth...?? (and whoever said that History was boring?!)
Saturday, June 14, 2008
New York is HOT!!
New York, New York. Always a treat to visit but 96F was abit trying. Thankfully the humidity wasn't too bad!!
Home for the week was in P's apartment, 6th floor of the "Blue Condo" building on the Lower East side.
The Time-Warner building was almost in disguise on a hot day...
And 5th Ave was HOT
Home for the week was in P's apartment, 6th floor of the "Blue Condo" building on the Lower East side.
The Time-Warner building was almost in disguise on a hot day...
And 5th Ave was HOT
Keeping up the fluids was critical - Guss's pickles weren't bad either!
The food was sensational, including Kobe Beef burgers at a local tapas bar called Stanton Social.
And "steak for three" at Peter Luger's steakhouse in Brooklyn
nothing was wasted...
We escaped the city for the weekend and had Lobster at Newport
The Newport mansions are "something else"!
Friday, June 13, 2008
Terminal 5 Magic
We have just been in New York to see number 1 son, and the cheapest route (1/2 price) was via Heathrow. It was the first day that BA had routed it's LHR/JFK flights through Terminal 5, so we were in some trepidation at the thought after all the recent bad publicity.
We even had time to enjoy Gordon Ramsay's "Plane Food". Delicious.
.....and our bags turned up "on time" at JFK. Maybe Terminal 5 really will bring the romance back to flying.
We shouldn't have worried however, and to be quite frank, it was extremely refreshing after our previous "episode" in Rome. No anxiety, no persperation, no running, no jostling, no feeling like idiots.
We even had time to enjoy Gordon Ramsay's "Plane Food". Delicious.
.....and our bags turned up "on time" at JFK. Maybe Terminal 5 really will bring the romance back to flying.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Pantelleria Dreaming.
We finally made it to Pantelleria and ironically enough were still in time for breakfast, so immediately felt right at home!! We had booked at http://www.pantelleriadreamhotel.com/ and we were not disappointed on arrival.
Pantelleria is a volcanic island some 85kms from North Africa, so the climate is largely influenced from that direction. The wind is fairly constant, but without it the temperatures would be unbearable. During our visit mid-May we had four seasons in one day but generally the weather was pleasant enough. Apparently during July and August it is like living in the wake of a hairdryer. The local houses are very site-specific and called Dammusi.
The local olive and grape plantings are trained in very "site-specific" ways which minimise the wind influence.
Our friends from Milan (who had "adopted" us enroute) visit Pantelleria regularly so we were very fortunate when they suggested we have dinner with them.
Pantelleria is a volcanic island some 85kms from North Africa, so the climate is largely influenced from that direction. The wind is fairly constant, but without it the temperatures would be unbearable. During our visit mid-May we had four seasons in one day but generally the weather was pleasant enough. Apparently during July and August it is like living in the wake of a hairdryer. The local houses are very site-specific and called Dammusi. Giorgio Armani has a home here....
We even visited the "Elephant Rock".......
The local olive and grape plantings are trained in very "site-specific" ways which minimise the wind influence.
Choice of rental car is either Panda, Panda or Panda, and you don't even get to choose the colour!
Our friends from Milan (who had "adopted" us enroute) visit Pantelleria regularly so we were very fortunate when they suggested we have dinner with them.
A little restaurant by the sea in Scauri, called La Vela offering a choice of very fresh fish was an absolute treat.
Island delicacies include: capers, olives, zabbibo white wine and a muscato wine called passito - squisito!
Our dinner conversation was a constant translation exercise between Italian/English/Italian, but a lot of fun. 
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Flight of the "Headless Pandas".
We wanted to do something a little different for our 30th wedding anniversary and when we visited Sicily in 2006, we had heard many favourable comments about Pantelleria, an island between Sicily and North Africa. So why not, we thought, any excuse to be in Italy, right?
From the day we booked the flights I had reservations about the timing. Of course, connections are rarely straight forward, especially from Dublin, but we eventually established that we could fly Aer Lingus to Rome and get an Air One flight Rome to Pantelleria (only on a Sat or Sun), and had 1hr and 40mins between flights, plenty of time to collect our bags and change terminals. Especially when Aer Lingus subsequently changed its schedule and gave us a further ten minutes grace! We had even phoned the Air One office in Rome to check the transfer time was adequate.
The day arrived, and as we do for many of our trips, we were up early (02:30ish) to get to Dublin for a 07:00 departure. Great, the boarding was routine and on time, but the doors didn’t close immediately……. First announcement for the day, “we are waiting for some USA bags to be transferred to our flight”. That’s OK and settled in to peruse the latest in-flight magazine. 10 mins later the doors closed and we backed away from the terminal, but because of the delay we had lost our slot and Dublin airport at that time of the morning is absolute pandemonium, so we sat in a queue of planes for about 20 mins before the “off”. Shortly after take-off our delightful female pilot apologized for our delayed departure, and assured us that we could make up the lost time en-route. No problem, standard procedure.
So we arrived into Rome airspace and landed only 10 minutes late, so still had 1hr and 40 to change plans. No problem, but why the delay in getting to our gate? We finally pulled alongside an air-bridge, and thought, great, straight into the terminal and we would be amongst the first off. But the air-bridge only connected to a flight of stairs that led to an awaiting coach, so we were first on the coach! Oh well, it could be worse, it could be raining! But it wasn’t, it was a balmy 26°C, no aircon, and the our temps rising every second as we waited and watched as a plane-load of Irish geriatrics made there way gingerly to the coach. Even a blessing from the bloody Pope wouldn’t have made them hurry! One “old dear” even stopped to have a fag between the plane and the coach. “Come on, for f***’s sake!!”.
Immigration was a breeze, an Irish (EU) passport is a blessing in many ways, and we hurriedly made our way to the luggage carousel. No 9, that’s away down the other end, no problem, the bags should already be there? Saturday morning…, Rome airport…, I should have spotted the clue. Luggage from 4 flights was being dumped on the one carousel!! So we waited, and waited…and waited. Shit, how can it take so long? Aren’t the Italians supposed to be “onto it”! OK, don’t panic, the other terminal is only a 3 min walk. No problem, we still have an hour, and Air One doesn’t close the check-in until 30 mins prior to departure. So we waited, and waited…and waited. 20 minutes passed, no luggage, shit!, what do we do now. OK, time to split up? Or is that a bit drastic? In a big airport, where we don’t actually know where to go? Still no luggage. Right, let’s do it, Dellie, you go on to the check-in desk and tell them we are in the airport and still awaiting bags, and I will meet you there, hopefully. So off she trots with adrenalin charging about her persona, and makes it to the counter with exactly 30 mins to take-off, and pours out her dramatic tale. “You have ten minutes to get your husband and luggage here”, ….”Come on Paddy, hurry up”!
Meanwhile, still no luggage and as the 30 min barrier ticks over, Paddy is resigned to an overnighter in Rome and hopefully the only other weekly flight to Pantelleria tomorrow is not full!!
Wait…., there’s a bag with a Dublin sticker, and another, and another. About bloody time, bloody slack Italians!! Exactly 1hr and 5 mins after landing our bags arrived at my feet, and only 25 mins before our next take-off. Now I have often seen people running to planes at airports and thought “you silly buggars, why didn’t you get up earlier” but I had got up at 2:45 and still nowhere near my destination, so I picked up two bags and started running. Along the arrivals hall, running through gaps in the crowd which seemed to close as I made to go through them, past the customs officers who glanced incredulously at me, and out into the Roman morning. I had established that Terminal 1 was along to the left on exiting Terminal 3, and as I set off up the foot-path thought, “Shit, I can’t do this! I’m going to have a heart attack!” Finally made it to Terminal 1 and stopped at the lift to the 1st floor departure level for a breather. “Shit, why aren’t the lifts working?” Right, follow the locals to an escalator and I ran up them with two suitcases past several disapproving Italians, only to trip about three steps from the top, but managed to somehow regain my step and not having to suffer the indignity of picking myself up of the floor!
OK, here we are, departure level, but there are an awful lot of check-in desks. The lovely Hertz rep directed me to the other end of the hall where Dellie was now waving frantically, and she immediately confirmed that we were “still good to go” and received our boarding passes from the check-in desk, but no time to check our bags. Right let’s go! Security! Thankfully the queues were not great, and on seeing the obvious panic on our faces the queues seemed to disappear and we went straight to the conveyor belt. But hang on, what about our cosmetics, and sharp objects in our now “carry-on” luggage? Stuff it, just fire the bags onto the conveyor and see what happens. Paddy’s bag sailed through with bottles and cosmetics undetected, but Dellie’s was apprehended and asked to be opened. They had spotted a pocket knife! At this juncture, Dellie was beside herself with panic and almost got arrested by the security on the spot for trying to bypass the well-trodden system! After much fiddling with the padlock, the bag finally opened and a pair of scissors was offered to the security officer, who said: “No they are OK, we want the pocket knife!” and handed back the scissors and seemed oblivious to her numerous cosmetic bottles! “That’s fine, you’re free to go”. So here we were, potential terrorists with liquids and sharp objects in our “carry-on”, and told to proceed. Thank God for slack Italians!! Right, which way to the gate A13, and only 12 minutes before departure. Down the escalator, still running and carrying two suitcases, with Dellie in hot pursuit. Thank God she was wearing flats and not the normal heels!! Into pier A and struggling to find directions to A13, but surely if we follow the progressive numbers we will eventually come to 13? It was at this stage that I became aware of my peripheral vision and also that people had started to notice us. It was the first (and hopefully only time) that I genuinely felt like a “headless chicken”!
The day arrived, and as we do for many of our trips, we were up early (02:30ish) to get to Dublin for a 07:00 departure. Great, the boarding was routine and on time, but the doors didn’t close immediately……. First announcement for the day, “we are waiting for some USA bags to be transferred to our flight”. That’s OK and settled in to peruse the latest in-flight magazine. 10 mins later the doors closed and we backed away from the terminal, but because of the delay we had lost our slot and Dublin airport at that time of the morning is absolute pandemonium, so we sat in a queue of planes for about 20 mins before the “off”. Shortly after take-off our delightful female pilot apologized for our delayed departure, and assured us that we could make up the lost time en-route. No problem, standard procedure.
So we arrived into Rome airspace and landed only 10 minutes late, so still had 1hr and 40 to change plans. No problem, but why the delay in getting to our gate? We finally pulled alongside an air-bridge, and thought, great, straight into the terminal and we would be amongst the first off. But the air-bridge only connected to a flight of stairs that led to an awaiting coach, so we were first on the coach! Oh well, it could be worse, it could be raining! But it wasn’t, it was a balmy 26°C, no aircon, and the our temps rising every second as we waited and watched as a plane-load of Irish geriatrics made there way gingerly to the coach. Even a blessing from the bloody Pope wouldn’t have made them hurry! One “old dear” even stopped to have a fag between the plane and the coach. “Come on, for f***’s sake!!”.
Immigration was a breeze, an Irish (EU) passport is a blessing in many ways, and we hurriedly made our way to the luggage carousel. No 9, that’s away down the other end, no problem, the bags should already be there? Saturday morning…, Rome airport…, I should have spotted the clue. Luggage from 4 flights was being dumped on the one carousel!! So we waited, and waited…and waited. Shit, how can it take so long? Aren’t the Italians supposed to be “onto it”! OK, don’t panic, the other terminal is only a 3 min walk. No problem, we still have an hour, and Air One doesn’t close the check-in until 30 mins prior to departure. So we waited, and waited…and waited. 20 minutes passed, no luggage, shit!, what do we do now. OK, time to split up? Or is that a bit drastic? In a big airport, where we don’t actually know where to go? Still no luggage. Right, let’s do it, Dellie, you go on to the check-in desk and tell them we are in the airport and still awaiting bags, and I will meet you there, hopefully. So off she trots with adrenalin charging about her persona, and makes it to the counter with exactly 30 mins to take-off, and pours out her dramatic tale. “You have ten minutes to get your husband and luggage here”, ….”Come on Paddy, hurry up”!
Meanwhile, still no luggage and as the 30 min barrier ticks over, Paddy is resigned to an overnighter in Rome and hopefully the only other weekly flight to Pantelleria tomorrow is not full!!
Wait…., there’s a bag with a Dublin sticker, and another, and another. About bloody time, bloody slack Italians!! Exactly 1hr and 5 mins after landing our bags arrived at my feet, and only 25 mins before our next take-off. Now I have often seen people running to planes at airports and thought “you silly buggars, why didn’t you get up earlier” but I had got up at 2:45 and still nowhere near my destination, so I picked up two bags and started running. Along the arrivals hall, running through gaps in the crowd which seemed to close as I made to go through them, past the customs officers who glanced incredulously at me, and out into the Roman morning. I had established that Terminal 1 was along to the left on exiting Terminal 3, and as I set off up the foot-path thought, “Shit, I can’t do this! I’m going to have a heart attack!” Finally made it to Terminal 1 and stopped at the lift to the 1st floor departure level for a breather. “Shit, why aren’t the lifts working?” Right, follow the locals to an escalator and I ran up them with two suitcases past several disapproving Italians, only to trip about three steps from the top, but managed to somehow regain my step and not having to suffer the indignity of picking myself up of the floor!
OK, here we are, departure level, but there are an awful lot of check-in desks. The lovely Hertz rep directed me to the other end of the hall where Dellie was now waving frantically, and she immediately confirmed that we were “still good to go” and received our boarding passes from the check-in desk, but no time to check our bags. Right let’s go! Security! Thankfully the queues were not great, and on seeing the obvious panic on our faces the queues seemed to disappear and we went straight to the conveyor belt. But hang on, what about our cosmetics, and sharp objects in our now “carry-on” luggage? Stuff it, just fire the bags onto the conveyor and see what happens. Paddy’s bag sailed through with bottles and cosmetics undetected, but Dellie’s was apprehended and asked to be opened. They had spotted a pocket knife! At this juncture, Dellie was beside herself with panic and almost got arrested by the security on the spot for trying to bypass the well-trodden system! After much fiddling with the padlock, the bag finally opened and a pair of scissors was offered to the security officer, who said: “No they are OK, we want the pocket knife!” and handed back the scissors and seemed oblivious to her numerous cosmetic bottles! “That’s fine, you’re free to go”. So here we were, potential terrorists with liquids and sharp objects in our “carry-on”, and told to proceed. Thank God for slack Italians!! Right, which way to the gate A13, and only 12 minutes before departure. Down the escalator, still running and carrying two suitcases, with Dellie in hot pursuit. Thank God she was wearing flats and not the normal heels!! Into pier A and struggling to find directions to A13, but surely if we follow the progressive numbers we will eventually come to 13? It was at this stage that I became aware of my peripheral vision and also that people had started to notice us. It was the first (and hopefully only time) that I genuinely felt like a “headless chicken”!
Running to the end of pier A we passed 10, 11, 12 on the other side, but hang-on we are at the end of the pier!! Oh shit, where’s 13? Somehow Dellie had managed to keep close behind me during my frantic dash, and I abruptly interrupted a security officer who was conversion with a waiting passenger. “Where’s A13?” in a Kiwi/Irish dialect that wasn’t even close to resembling Italian. “Boarding pass please sir”. Shit, we haven’t got time to rummage in my shoulder bag for our boarding passes, but OK, here they are. “A13 is on the lower level sir”. Gracie!! Lower level! Shit, how did we miss that? Right, back halfway along the pier to a lift downstairs. A breather, 30 seconds in the lift! Why is my shirt all wet and a river of sweat running down my face? Here we are, right beside the lift is A13, that wasn’t hard was it?
5 mins to take-off, but why are all these people standing here, maybe they are on the next plane, so Dellie charged up to the hostess at the gate and is reassured that the flight hasn’t even started boarding yet! Well thanks for that, why the girls at check-in couldn’t have taken our age into consideration and informed us to hurry, but there was no need to run!!
So here we were, standing at the back of a line of about 40 very cool Italians, in a state of absolute shock and exhaustion. Perspiration exploding out of every pore and our heart rates at levels even Lewis Hamilton could relate to!! 15 minutes passed and finally we boarded our flight to Pantelleria. It was such a relief to finally sit down in the plane, and have the aircon on our faces, and allow the tightness in our chests to subside! Neither of us actually believed that we had managed to catch the plane, and avoid a lay-over in Rome. It would be Champagne tonight!
So we took off from Rome and headed towards Sicily and onto Pantelleria, but alas it was time for Murphy’s Law and an hour into the flight our captain informs us that due to high winds we cannot land in Pantelleria and we are diverting to Trapani (Sicily). Great, what else is going to happen to us today? So we land in Trapani and are offered a return flight to Rome and Pantelleria tomorrow or a bus trip to Palermo and Pantelleria tomorrow. We opted for the latter, as did 95% of the passengers and stoically waited patiently in Trapani for a bus to arrive. After an hour and a half bus trip to Palermo, we were winding our way through the old part of town looking for our hotel, when word came from the driver that there was still a possibility of a flight to Pantelleria that night because the winds were subsiding, which sent a wave glee around the bus, but alas, that never eventuated and we spent the night in a hotel on the outskirts of Palermo that basically only catered for bus tours. However we made the most a bad situation and enjoyed the free bed and lodgings.
It is amazing in that sort of a situation how you seem to bond with your fellow travellers, as if there is safety in numbers. In particular, two gentlemen from Milan seemed to adopt us, after seeing our plight as we boarded in Rome. Of course, being from New Zealand/Ireland (and the only non-Italians) made us novelty material and every one was very generous in their support. Dinner that night was like a family affair with everyone sitting around communal tables (as you do in Italy) so it was great chance to practice our Italian, and them to practice their Kiwi/Irish!! We were called at 04:30 the next morning for our 07.45 flight to Pantelleria and arrived at our resort relatively unscathed only 19 hours late.
You had to be there, I suppose, but it was the most stressful experience we have had on our many travels, and something I felt the need to record – for whatever reason!
Ciao – until next time.
5 mins to take-off, but why are all these people standing here, maybe they are on the next plane, so Dellie charged up to the hostess at the gate and is reassured that the flight hasn’t even started boarding yet! Well thanks for that, why the girls at check-in couldn’t have taken our age into consideration and informed us to hurry, but there was no need to run!!
So here we were, standing at the back of a line of about 40 very cool Italians, in a state of absolute shock and exhaustion. Perspiration exploding out of every pore and our heart rates at levels even Lewis Hamilton could relate to!! 15 minutes passed and finally we boarded our flight to Pantelleria. It was such a relief to finally sit down in the plane, and have the aircon on our faces, and allow the tightness in our chests to subside! Neither of us actually believed that we had managed to catch the plane, and avoid a lay-over in Rome. It would be Champagne tonight!
So we took off from Rome and headed towards Sicily and onto Pantelleria, but alas it was time for Murphy’s Law and an hour into the flight our captain informs us that due to high winds we cannot land in Pantelleria and we are diverting to Trapani (Sicily). Great, what else is going to happen to us today? So we land in Trapani and are offered a return flight to Rome and Pantelleria tomorrow or a bus trip to Palermo and Pantelleria tomorrow. We opted for the latter, as did 95% of the passengers and stoically waited patiently in Trapani for a bus to arrive. After an hour and a half bus trip to Palermo, we were winding our way through the old part of town looking for our hotel, when word came from the driver that there was still a possibility of a flight to Pantelleria that night because the winds were subsiding, which sent a wave glee around the bus, but alas, that never eventuated and we spent the night in a hotel on the outskirts of Palermo that basically only catered for bus tours. However we made the most a bad situation and enjoyed the free bed and lodgings.
It is amazing in that sort of a situation how you seem to bond with your fellow travellers, as if there is safety in numbers. In particular, two gentlemen from Milan seemed to adopt us, after seeing our plight as we boarded in Rome. Of course, being from New Zealand/Ireland (and the only non-Italians) made us novelty material and every one was very generous in their support. Dinner that night was like a family affair with everyone sitting around communal tables (as you do in Italy) so it was great chance to practice our Italian, and them to practice their Kiwi/Irish!! We were called at 04:30 the next morning for our 07.45 flight to Pantelleria and arrived at our resort relatively unscathed only 19 hours late.
You had to be there, I suppose, but it was the most stressful experience we have had on our many travels, and something I felt the need to record – for whatever reason!
Ciao – until next time.
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