You know that episode of Friends where all they do is go ‘hey remember that time when…’ and then you watch a scene from an old episode? I’m now making a blog equivalent. I’m going to go revisit some old posts and we are going to enjoy ourselves. we ARE going to enjoy ourselves. Alright? good.
Sitting in an appartment with Claudio in Pisa, while he’s been working, I too decided to devote a bit of time to my work. Well technically this blog isn’t work, but who knows… If that badboy count on the right (in the red box) keeps flying up at this rate, then one day maybe I can get some dollar rollin’ in. If you are now wondering how to become one of these badboys, well hey it’s easy, you just put your email in the right and it makes me smile for half an hour as I go into the dashboard and change the number. So who’s gonna to make it 24? One day when it’s 2,321,746 badboys, you’ll be able to say ‘hey, buddy, I was the 24th.’ And only on that day, and on that specific number. And why not like the facebook page while you’re at it? Too much? Sorry, I should’ve just quit while I was ahead/had 23 followers.
Anyway, while devoting my time to this work, I read some old posts and there were some things that I felt needed re-addressing…
Hey remember that time when I wrote a piece called Le Zanzare?
Oh, how naive I was when I wrote that. To think back then I thought it was worth a story, as if the whole ordeal was going to be a one-off experience in Italy, as if 27 mosquito bites is an unbelievable amount of bites to recieve in one night. Since then tying something round my ears and just letting the mosquitos have their way with me has become standard procedure and a regular part of life. Obviously if I can sleep somewhere where mosquitoes won’t terrorise me, yes that’s the best option. But that’s not always an option, and well, if you can’t beat them, join them. I’m not sure if that expression makes sense there. So for the updated figure; the most mosquito bites I’ve now recieved in one night is over 120. That’s not an exaggeration, 25 on each foot, at least the same on each leg, 5 on each hand, and more on my arms. That shit adds up, trust me I’m a maths teacher. A maths teacher whose last student just failed his maths exam, but a maths teacher nonetheless. And a damn good one at that.
On a more philosophical note; Claudio told me that the mosquitos are here to serve a reminder, a reminder to tourists and Italians alike; it’s not just beaches and sun in Italy, but that there’s suffering and blood in the air too.
…ah well wasn’t that funny, but remember that time also when I talked about the mornings being great?
‘If there’s one thing this trip is beginning to teach me, it’s that the mornings are a beautiful thing and I should begin to take advantage of them’. Things change on this trip, things change hard and fast. Italy is hot, the day’s aren’t always that fun, when it cools down in the evenings and you can go drink beer in the streets that’s much funner. So lately I appear to have switched to a more nocturnal lifestyle and I now rue the sun and it’s cancerous rays. Instead it seems I prefer spending the afternoons sitting in a room of sweating Italian boys with no shirts and one fan, while we complain about how hot it is (No homo). Tans are for tourists.
Or what about that time where you wrote about having to live rough and your fears of this journey’s hardships?
Yeah, staring out the window of a beautiful Pisan appartment, fresh from a week at a Tuscan mansion, it seems strange comparing my life now to the fears I had before the trip. For example, When I wrote about going hard or going home and wondered what things I would find here that would make this trip worth it’s hardships, make this trip worth not having the comfort of my London bed. Well the thing I found was an even better bed in a big bloomin’ mansion with acres of garden and a swimming pool ontop a hill. Yup, It’s pretty much been a life of luxury so far, and I’m actually quite content about that for the moment. I’m sorry to all you people who wanted to tune in just to watch me suffer.
Well relative luxury. Still I end up often being somewhere at 1 in the morning not knowing where I’ll stay, but thanks to great people like Jules, those things sort themselves out. And here when I say luxury, I mean like I get to sleep on a sofa or something, basically anything that’s not sleeping in the middle of a field of cats again.
And remember that time where you thought you were going to get really trimmed and toned by doing all that cycling?
I didn’t write about that, but it was something I’d naturally thought. The beauty of doing a cycling food tour is that you pay for the gluttony with all the many hours of cycling. However if you stop cycling and just stay in nice places instead, while continuing the food tour aspect of things, then you get fat…