Danger High Velocity Road!! Italy pt 3

This is the final part of the Italian Blog, I promise you, after this I can get back to telling you about the abuse I mete out to the students I am currently teaching. Click on the link to find Part One and Part Two.

I forgot to mention we had a hardcore game of Zug um Zug (some of you who have been here since the beginning will remember that I didn't get to play this game during Play Night in Iceland...) on Monday night with Frida's cousins. as is usual with games, I never remember who won, so we'll just say I did, to save arguments. Frida's cousin Marika (I'm not sure how to spell her name...) was learning English and wanted to hang out with us so I could teach her in English. My lesson plan consisted of me shouting 'In English!' everytime she spoke Italian to Frida. It seemed to work.

Frida and Luana celebrate getting to Trento alive despite my best efforts to get them both killed...

Trento was next on the list, along with Luana, Frida's friend, who had until recently lived in Trento as a student. Her unparallelled knowledge of the city was a God send. I drove the three of us in the family tank. But unlike most Italian tanks, (which have five gears: one forward and four backwards) this one was a bit more lively. It was my first time driving on the wrong side of the road, but what made it more difficult was the fact that I had two Italian girls jabbering in my ears, the car was about forty times bigger than the one I am used to and the crazy Italian drivers and their disregard for the rules of the road. Throw into this mix a burst tyre just after getting onto a high speed road and it makes for a very sweaty, nervous and tense Alex. Miraculously After all this misfortune we arrived at the Castello Del Buonconsiglio in one piece and spent the afternoon absorbing the very large Egyptian exhibition and the various Medieval frescoes the Castle had to offer...

Have some, yer fucken bitch!

Further archaeological treats awaited us at the S.A.S.S. An underground Roman city this time. Yawn. The Romans are like the Ikea of the Ancient World. You could be in Danum or Thysdrus, the street layout would be exactly the same. Like the Dead Kennedy's said 'This could be anywhere, this could be everywhere'. The Romans were just the flatpack for the BCs. Anyhoo, the museum consisted of large parts of the original street layout of Trento as it was back in the day. There were the usual Latin inscriptions which Frida translated for us.

The teacher and the teacher's pet; 'This one says "Alex is a Douchelord"'

In all seriousness, the place was fucking amazing, the original Roman road alone was mind blowing. I'm not usually moved much by archaeology anymore, but I was thinking what a pleasure it would have been to excavate this site. Then I realised what I was thinking and stopped being such a fucking nerd.

Frida is thinking: 'It's a fucking Roman road! A road the fucking Romans walked on! All of them! All of the fucking citizens of the Roman Fucking Empire walked on this fucking road!! What the Fuck?!'

After a quick look at a Piazza built by Mussolini after he pulled down a load of crappy Medieval buildings and a Fascist Building we left the delights of Trento Behind.

Awwww, look the Friendly Fascist is waving at us! They can't be all bad...

The following day Frida and I headed out to Largo Di Ledro, a large tourist lake which seemed to be populated by Dutch tourists trying in vain to pay for free parking. On the side of the lake there was some rather nice Palafitte Buildings dating back to the some monkey-rock-bashing-prehistoric period or other. The reproductions weren't really up to scratch but to see the original timbers still in the water was pretty sweet.

That's right Bitch! That's some motherfucking prehistoric timbers right there!

We climbed the roads of Monte San Martino in the family's other tank, the Fiat Uno of Doom. Climbing hills in Northern Italy with a crapped out Fiat Uno with a blowing exhaust is no joke. It was a similar experience to what wrestling a bear must be like, but with more wheels. The gear box was fucked and the stick needed kicking into place. With turns that required many gear changes this was a difficult task, only confounded by the mind melting heat. Finally we made it some Roman ruins that Frida wanted to see and they made a welcome relief after the trauma of having to get to them. We were standing in front of a mocked up inscription stone and I began reading out the inscription, Frida turned to me and said 'Wow, how did you learn Latin so quick?' I just pointed out the fact I was reading out the translation on the panel next to the stone.

Breaking the Law, Breaking the Law!

We overlooked Lake Garda from the mountain, I was not allowed to get closer as Frida said it 'only a lake full of Germans.' In lieu of seeing where a James Bond (pronounced by Frida and Cinzia as 'Zero Zero Seven'...) stuntman had crashed, we called in on a smaller lake, who's name I forget, but which was still packed with Germans. We finished the day off with a visit to another Prehistoric palafitte site, which was no where near as touristy as the previous one.

The palafitte remains were not as impressive as this evening sky, so enjoy this instead...

On the way back we pulled into the square outside Frida's house where her neighbours were sitting enjoying the evening sun. As we did I kicked the accelerator several times, giving out the loudest revs ever from the fucked exhaust and rattling all the nearby windows. Frida just slid down below the window in her seat in embarrassment. The evening was spent at Lorena's then Jessica's place where we got to play with some of Emanuele's WW1 collection...

Hände hoch!!

Austrian Stormtroopers come in all shapes and sizes...

Then after all the crappy archaeology we finally got to the good stuff. My final day in Italy was spent in the kingdom of Nerd at the Museo Grande Guerra in Spiazzo. Alessandro, Emanuele's brother got hold of the keys for us to get in because the museum had some weird opening hours. They generally seemed to be when the rest of the world was asleep. After checking out the main exhibitions, Alessandro opened the Aladdin's cave that was the upstairs store rooms. OH MY FUCKING GOD!! The beauty held within those rooms. The place was packed to the rafters with War goodies. I have never seen so many Great War Austrian helmets in one place. We spent what seemed like hours going through the collection, even Jessica joined in:

Sicilian Mafia Molls, doing daddy proud...

'Wonderful things...'

'I make him an offer he don' refuse'

Soon it was time to leave and then time to leave Italy all together. An early start the next morning, two trains, a wrestle with the crowds at the airport and I was back in Terra Britannia. What made it a brilliant holiday was the warm welcome that Frida's family gave me. It felt like within days I was part of the family and they all went out of their way to make me feel welcome. I am sorry to say I didn't get to say thank you to Frida's parents for their hospitality before I left, so if you're reading this Frida, thank them both for me. Also thanks to Frida, the best tour guide Northern Italy has to offer! I will remember for a long time the unbelievably Italian experience of sitting in a kitchen, eating salami and cheese and listening to opera whilst Rosa whipped up more incredible pizzas. I would like to return, as there are First World War Galleries built into the mountains to explore, but I will have to start my mountain climbing training...

Slaget I Skogen Bortenfor

On Thursday night we held our now bi-annual Play Night. We decided to up the ante somewhat this time and told the punters to bring their own games, as Jo refuses point blank to play Stratego, the only board game the crazy drunk Jesus freak owns. Lilja, turned up with "Ticket to Ride', which looked fucking amazing, with trains and everything along with some crazy card game and Cluedo in Danish!. Hrönn brought 'The Mad Magazine' game. Atli turned up with the nerdiest game this side of Nerddom. It was some fucking Vampire Card Game. I never understand these kind of card games, like Magic The Gathering and the like. I mean, when I want to play cards, I get some nice simple playing cards. I don't need cards adorned with pictures of fucking werewolves and goblins to enjoy a game.

I digress. Atli wasn't allowed to play with his cards, even though we kept telling him 'Yeah, we'll play after this game, promise!' That wiped the stupid smile off his stupid face. We played Cluedo first (Which Margret kept pronouncing as 'Clue Edo'. Brilliant), everybody raced to the foot of the stairs to reveal it was Fru Paafugleblaa with the Reb in the Billiardvarelse. I don't remember who won in mad scramble to the stairs, so let's just say it was me. Then it was time to play Hrönn's 'Mad Magazine Game' which, no offense Hrönn, was akin to pulling teeth. I definitely remember winning this one and Play Night moved onto Poker. Now, Poker is a game I don't know how to play but have always wanted to learn. We broke out the Jesus Freak's coins and everyone was dealt in. I had a good hand and kind of figured that I did, so I kept upping the betting, I then went all in and everyone else thought I was bullshitting them and matched my bravado. It paid off. I put the smack down on everyone and knocked at least three people out. Underestimate me, would you, you fuckers? I went to bed at the top of my game.

Friday was spent watching videos and relaxing over a few beers in the house. I awoke quite late on Saturday. This is the major problem when the sun doesn't rise until about ten am. I attempted to take a coat back, but the snotty cunt behind the counter said it had been worn and wouldn't take it back. I suppose having a shopping list in the pocket didn't help my argument that I had only tried it on in the house. With that failure I met Jo in town where we proceeded to the Perlan and the Saga Museum. I've already told you my comments on this place before, so I won't reiterate myself at this juncture. This time however, we took the opportunity to half the embarrassment and dressed up as Vikings, with chainmail shirts, coifs and Helmets. There was also a sword involved, I'm not sure how, the excitement was far too heady for me. After this I took Jo on a Battlefield Archaeology tour of World War Two Defensive bunkers. She said this was the highlight of the day, by far!

Hrappi called over Saturday evening and he and I headed out to a gig at Belly's. You'll remember Belly's for being the cheapest pint in Reykjavik, a snip at £67,982! Anyway the gig was a warm-up show for the 'Anti-Christmas' festival that is being held in a few weeks. We arrived to the dulcet tones of 'Dormah'. These were blasting out crushing Death Metal, very good stuff. Then came on the exquisitely named 'Bastard'. Again great Death Metal, with an Australian Singer; so for the first time I understood everything being said between songs. Next up were Forgarður Helvítis, one of the oldest bands in Iceland, fucking excellent Grindcore Punk with a really energetic singer. The next band were a power punk kind of outfit. They were good at what they did, but not really my kind of band. The final band were my favourite, Atrum. Fucking good Black Metal, in the Emperor style. They were all only young kids, but they had the attitude (and corpse paint) and talent to put on a real good show. I was just thinking to myself, wow these guys are just like old Emperor when they launched into a cover of I am the Black Wizards! Fucking Brilliant, it's one of my favourite Emperor songs of all time, ever. After the gig Hrappi and I went and got our Chickenbugers that always finish off an evening these days.

On Sunday Jo dragged me to shopping Hell in Kringlan Shopping Maul. Actually I wanted to go Christmas shopping, I had a few things to buy and knew exactly were to get them from. As it turns out, one of the shops had closed down, another one didn't have what I wanted and the final thing I wanted to buy was too heavy to carry around, so I ended up buying a magazine and two books for myself. Another completely successful shopping expedition for Sotheran.

We had a meeting at work today, during which we had our Secret Santa hoisted upon us. What this means is, we all picked a name out of a hat and we have to be nice to that person for the week, but without them knowing it. It culminates in buying them a present on Friday. We can be nice in various ways, sing to them, write them a poem, send a little gift, etc. I'm not going to tell you who mine is, but they are going to receive pictures of Nazi atrocities, children being raped by clowns and other such niceties. Fuck Christmas and fuck you.

Valhalla

I showed up for work on Tuesday and was promptly told by Sindre that I'd be working in the new tent. A victory for the anti-Racists! I was being moved out of the cold miserable open tent to the new luxuriant, heated and well lit marquee. It was like all my Christmas' had come at once! I trembled with delight and excitement about the new opportunity, no-one else from the UK had been asked to go in the new tent. The temperature had hit an all time low, maybe somewhere in the -40c region.

The previous night the wind had blown all the windows out of the new tent. Our first task was to take down all the walls for the windows to be repaired. I was back in the biting, howling wind. at least the old tent had four walls...

In a further attempt to cement relationships between the two almost warring nations, we had a 'Play' night (as Ace McCloud called it.) . Jo came up with the idea, telling Hrafnkell to come over to play cards one night, it quickly spiralling out of control so that everyone was invited to come and play.

As it turns out, only Hrappi, Ace and Hrönn managed to make the games night. Lilja had promised to come and at the last moment was 'involved in a car accident' so was unable to make it. Even with Hrönn bringing her knitting it still turned into a drunken orgy of violence, brought on by over-excitement during games of Puck!, Cheat and Shithead.