Euroboike

 And now, fast forward a couple of days from writing anything and I find myself sitting in a small and private corner of a massive Bike Exhibition in 100 meters by 1 Kilometre made up of 14 halls,  sheltering from the masses. And masses. And masses.Barely anyone speaking in English. My trip up to Germany had been in a car with two Italians talking Italian non-stop-as they do(not that there is anything wrong with that). I spent that night out for dinner and camping with 5 different Italians all speaking Italianas they do(not that there is anything wrong with that). With the occasional check to see if everything is okay with me. I spent my time trying to keep up. I am not complaining. No way. It would be the reverse if Italians came to NZ with barely a grasp on the language. No one is going to struggle with Italian to make conversation. So this is just life & all I really want to do is comfort eat right now, but the queues are too long.  Eurobike is Fucking Mon-U-Fucking-Mental. Not that there is anything wrong with that. It has a very German flavour, not that there is anything wrong with that either...with more Electric bikes than you can shake an extension lead at. There is something very wrong with that. Recumbents and E-Bikes. They can all fuck off. The amount of anodised bling on show could give you cancer, or erectile dysfunction (mark my words, it will be medically proven before too long). I had to find a focus. So it became Cyclocross bikes and anything to make them better. Like Carbon. Or Titanium. Or Disc Brakes. Or a combination of all those 3. It was also a bit of a man fest. I never made it to the fashion show...maybe that would have been good for my dysfunction, but the general walking around with a crowd of Businessmen who are obviously in it for the business alone and add to that a whole bunch of man-bike-geeks 'n' freaks... it does wear thin. Being amongst your own stereotype doesn't half make you shine a tiny LED spotlight on the whole big business wankfest. 

  On returning to Torino I stayed up until 12 a.m. Unable to get to sleep- even though my knees were screaming from all the walking. I managed to find my next weeks accommodation and secure that. I wrote up all the contacts I made so I could shed the weight of their broschures.

 My latest discovery is to nip to the local Bar, get a granita of whatever flavour takes my fancy, bring it upstairs, make a Vodka with it. Make Another Vodka with it. - usually really fucking strong because having 3 just sounds extravagant. Then off I go/stagger out for dinner. And tonights dinner was something special. I have been walking and Biking past a new place all week. Boldly I strode into "Rural"(it was the Duty free Absolut Honey Melon and Lemongrass Vodka and vanilla Granita controlling my manner ) Getting a table on their first night could have been risky I suppose. But I loved every bit of it. The raw Torinese sausage to kick off with ( a couple of bite size pieces as a taster/teaser). Then  Galantina di Gallina- a compressed roll of chicken, with truffle oil or something and figs. Then Spaghetti made by local Artisan with Amatriciana style sause. If I knew the translation was streaky bacon sooner I would have ordered a bath tub full to frolic in. Finishing with Rabbit - again compressed in a roll ( didn't expect that one!) and just so yummy. Buono!! Then... I mean THEN I finished with a coffee. From their gorgeous Faema E61 machine. And I might be in love with the Maitre d. She is one of the classiest women I have seen in Italy. And unusually not over tanned or Orange. Shit! did I say that out loud?

  So tomorrow is Saturday, I move to a new neighbourhood. I don't expect it to be as good as this one. The Roman Quarter has a nice vibe going on. My new territory San Salvario is a bit more multi racial, feels a bit rougher, and seems to be full of perpetually closed shops. But I am moving into a proper apartment instead of a loft studio. So maybe  (just maybe ) I will cook more.

  Mario and I help each other to stand on day 2 of Eurobike