I grew up with a rugby-loving dad and two rugby-loving brothers. Actually my mum loved rugby too and okay, my sister and I used to get quite excited when the All Blacks were playing.
Truth be told, sport is a huge thing in New Zealand.
And so it was, when Mark shared this advert about the 6 Nations Rugby Tournament over on Facebook ... well, I had to share. Here, there, and everywhere.
I can't believe BBC banned it. I was reading British comments over on Facebook, most of them loved it too.
There was this older gentleman, riding an old bicycle, wearing a long black coat ... I imagined he was a priest at first. He was smoking a cigar. There were exclusive-looking shopping bags hanging from both handlebars. And he crossed the road on a red light and I thought, 'not so priestly'. Then again, quite possibly Father Healy might done that.
Anyway by the time I realised he wasn't a priest he had my attention. He stopped on the island in the middle of the road and lifted the camera he had hanging round his neck, using it to take a photograph of the old-fashioned apartment building in front of him.
Then, a few streets on, there was a small truck raised up on its mobility/stability stands while the ladder was raised. I can't be sure but it seemed like there was a big white cat sitting up in a tree waiting for rescue.
I reached the airport, hungry but craving something sweet too. When I write up this some might say, 'Oh Diane ...' but others may benefit from my honesty should they find themselves hunting down lunch at an airport in Milan. I ordered a mozzarella and tomato sandwich and ... a hot chocolate.
The waitress could barely put my order together. She was laughing so hard.
Sigh.
And laughing. And still laughing as I wandered off with my 5pm lunch.
Sometimes one just has to take the 'hit'. There were things I could have said but decided it was a life lesson.
I came to the departure lounge early to work on my marketing assignment but there was an elderly English academic talking to his wife two seats down from me. He was so ... so very much what you might except from a rather elderly English academic perhaps.
He had been at a conference here in Milan and was rather excited by the wine at dinner but disappointed by the behaviour of some of 'the team'. Talked of corruption and bureaucracy, so loudly, that I feared his way of speaking might slip into my writing. Maybe it has ...
Traveling between here and there always seems to drag me into a slightly surreal space. Speaking of surreal, I only managed to take one photograph of Davide, the Genovese guy who looks so remarkably like John Lennon ...
I went wandering with Alessandra, Federico, Barbara and Davide on Sunday. It was superb.
Apologies for the disasterous mess made with this post. I wasn't myself, with reason really. I had completely forgotten I had already used the photograph I first posted here ... in the previous post.
It's been a busy few days really.
My niece, Katie, recently sent me a copy of her end of year artwork. It's a delicately beautiful static image. She received 3 excellences for this work but even if she hadn't, I'm so proud of her talent.
And although I adore her, truly, madly, deeply ... she melted my heart some more when she wrote that I was represented by an object there too, as one of the people she loves.
She was the littlest creature when I left New Zealand and when I went home, I discovered both her and her sister are becoming the loveliest young women.
Oh yes ... I'm so proud of these girls.
I woke to the alarm at 5.45am. We were out the door by 6.40am. The airport bus, the flight (1 hour 20 minutes), then another airport bus in Milan, and the train through the hills to Genova. It's been a day but I love traveling.
I was lucky. There was no rain as I walked along Via XX Settembre from Brignole Station. I arrived, turned on the gas and heating, changed into more appropriate clothes and then was out again. Hunter-gathering.
It's good to be back in Genova. I love this city, so very much.
My USB modem is loaded to go for a month. I have red wine, sparkling water, and not too much else at the moment. I was counting on my favourite pizzeria being open tonight but it's almost 6.30pm and there's nothing happening there yet.
It's pouring down here but that doesn't matter. I've always loved rain. When I lived in Istanbul people would call out compliments to me when it rained. I sparkle in the rain but it's not surprising, given that I grew up in Dunedin and loved living in Fiordland later. Rain is that thing that happens in those places. Excessively at times.
So I have arrived. Now, to start on the work that I came here to do.
