Italia

Prosciutto. Gelato. Vino.  What else does anyone need to know about a holiday to Italy? And now, two weeks on, with daily sessions pounding the pavement of Islington, my jeans just about fit again. Because when you're in Genoa, the home of pesto and focaccia, Lucca, the home of truffles and Tuscan wine and Milan, the home of pizza slices bigger than your head, no eludes your vocabulary.

As always, I'm underwhelmed by blogger and google's stinginess in photo space. Because it means I have to follow a process of uploading pictures onto a third party vendor, attaching the links and crossing my fingers.  This process takes time.  I have also moved flats and currently come to the world wide web via a dongle.  Which isn't nearly as lewd as it sounds.  But this does mean it restricts bandwidth and all these other technological processes I know little about.

Alas.

Our Trip to the Northern region of the boot:
**Four days in Genoa includes a wander to the richie rich Portofino, Santa Margherita seaside towns
**Four days in Lucca, Tuscany including a wine tasting tour with six geriatric americans, one of whom I made cry, in the Chianti region
**One day trip to the Cinque Terre National Park which felt a lot like Disneyland, only more beautiful and with 10 times the number of tourists
**Two days in Milan including a tour of the fusilli-shaped San Siro Stadium, home to both Inter and AC Milan FCs (Paul's choice, not mine)

One day, probably when exam season is over and i'm not leaving work only to come home and do more work, I will expound on these events.  Mostly relaxy sit-in-bars-and-watch-the-world-go type posts, except for the crying american woman, of course.  That day is likely to take shape in June, during half term.  I am going to try something new and stay in London for once.  And then I shall blog all the spaces in between.

So get ready. We're going to Belgium and Turkey and Thailand and Spain and, and, and in a series of discontinuous narratives.