Apparently they take their soccer almost as seriously as their pasta

So I asked Fabiano if we could go see a game of soccer at one of the large stadiums; I didn't need to ask twice! His team Juventus had just won the Italian Soccer League championship for the 28th time, and so with 65,000 others we headed up to the Stadio dell' Alpi to sit in the swealtering heat.

We watched a game and the cup presentation, but the real show was the crowd - Italians really get going when it comes to soccer. At one point everyone in the stadium got up and started jumping up and down; being my father's daughter I began to recall every physics film I had seen on the effects of resonance - but eventually the enthusiasm became contagious and I had a great time.

Funnier still was the drive home, with the driver of just about every car tooting their horn in triumph, which did nothing to improve the overall standard of driving!

Honey, just popping down to the store...

Kind of speaks for itself, though apparently not funny to Italians. "It's a shop that sells small animals" they explained kindly. I think that's what I was afraid of...

Dreams are free at the Hotel Paris

San Remo had its heyday in the 60 years leading up to WWII, and is graced with a number of elegant hotels from the era - and sadly some that have not been maintained in such good condition. We fell in love with the Hotel Paris - long since boarded up - and spent our time in San Remo planning exactly what we would do to restore it to its former self. Now all we need to do is find a spare $20m.

But when we do, we're going to live in this Art Nouveau villa (sadly also abandoned) decorated with stained glass irises and majolica tiles and just a short walk to work.

This equation does not compute

So while Fabiano had a wedding to go to in Switzerland (thanks for the red cross oven glove, honey!) I took the opportunity to visit Milan and Bologna, two places I had not been to before. Liked Milan; loved Bologna. It's got miles of covered porticoes, built to accomodate people on horseback (whoops, forgot to pack mine) which mean you can walk down the street for hours sheltered from the sun and rain.

Travelling as a single female in Italy is quite an experience though. At first the whistles and cat-calls are quite flattering (like the marriage proposal I got while walking down the street from a tram driver driving his tram, complete with ringing of the bell), but after a while fending off the offers to be 'shown around their town' gets quite tiring.

I blame this eagerness on the fact they all live at home; the equation single girl + hotel room + leaving tomorrow = one thing.