Taormina Tourist Trippin'

Just take the bloody photo already - the sun's in our eyes for christ sake

chick in the denim vest gives good bitch face

If you ever drag your butt cheeks to Sicily, you are going to visit Taormina.  I challenge any tourist not to join the rest, and I also dare you to resist sauntering through those cobblestone streets, remarking; "It's just so quaint". Quaint it is, there's no doubt about it.  On the approach you can see the town perched precariously on the top, and side, of a steep hill.  Taormina's buildings are tucked into the slope, just balancing - almost tumbling down.  Just a wander through the centre of town will stir something inside you.  Either the beauty of the architecture, the irritation at being elbowed by another bloody Russian, or it could be your gut after gorging on too many cannelloni and gelati.  If there's ever an incentive to cut back on the Italian food, just take sunset tour past the cafes and ice cream shops and watch the rate of shovelling going down those cake-holes.  That cellulite didn't just spring up from nowhere - I've seen (and personally experienced) the cause and effect.

Yes, yes, very nice

a few old roofs, sea below - also very nice

Yep, Taormina has joined the rest of Italy in being jam packed with overseas visitors (see, I didn't call them 'tourist scum' this time).  Apparently we are here in the quiet season, so if you are thinking of coming in July - get ready.  You may have to physically fight that chubby child for the last scoop of lemon sorbet.  Those streets get packed.  And it's hot.  Bloody boiling actually.

Who knew ricotta ice cream could become my favourite?

just a couple of punters.....

I cut most of the tourists out from the bottom of this frame

But all of this tourism is not a new phenomenon. Visitors have been coming to Taormina for the last 200 years - ever since it became part of "The Grand Tour", that all those wealthy Europeans used to take back in the day - with their servants, trunks, and their annoying pompous accents.  Though, in actual fact, Taormina actually became a holiday destination more than two thousand years ago for Roman senators.  The town itself however,  has existed as a settlement even before ancient Greek times.  There are the incredible remains of a Greek theatre, situated right in front of a smoking Mount Etna.  This is by far the most popular sight in Taormina.  The hoards are absolutely swarming in here.  Grown men actually barged Valli out of the way to get to the ticket counter first.

Taormina has, for want of a better description, been around.  It  passed from the Greeks into the hands of the Romans in about 200 BC, and then to the Byzantines, and then the Arabs.  After the Arabs, the Normans had a go, followed by the Swarbians (dudes from south western Germany - googled it myself), the French and then the Spanish.  What a little trollop.  Although I dare say some of those acquisitions were non-consensual, which makes poor old Taormina actually the victim here people.  Those skank calls were unjust.  And I will publicly apologise.  Anyway, these days, as all dummies know, Taormina is a part of Sicily, which is of course, part of Italy.

 "Quick Bruce!  I haven't had a gelato for half an hour"

Not only does the common man love a bit of Taormina (and I use "common" with intent), but celebrities too, are all over  this place.  Goethe, Alexander Dumas, Johannes Brahms, Gustav Klimt, D.H. Lawrence, Richard Wagner, Oscar Wilde, Truman Capote, John Steinbeck, Ingmar Bergmann, Francis Ford Coppola, Leonard Bergman, Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Federico Fellini, Cary Grant, Gregory Peck, Elisabeth Taylor and Woody Allen have all dug the shit out of Taormina.  If you don't know who these people are by the way, you are uncultured and uncouth.  These days the celebs are still (apparently) rolling in.

A couple of days ago I walked right by Kirsten Dunst.  I'm humiliated to say this, but I actually got flustered.  My heart beat faster with exhilaration.... I quite like old KiKi.  And despite the reviews, I thought Marie Antoinette was  entertaining....all those cakes at her birthday party....hmmmm......When I told Chalks of my sighting, he didn't believe me, and went to see for himself.  She had disappeared up a flight of medieval stairs with her boyfriend, so we tried to stalk them.  I now understand why the paps don't go on the celebrity prowl with their three year olds.  The youth are hopeless under pressure.  All those stone stairs as well.....impossible to move quickly on.  We failed to get definite proof, and my google search turned up nought as well.  However, I did discover that she is shooting a movie in Greece.  It's only a hop skip and a jump from here......  Also her boyfriend in papparazi photos exactly resembled the one I saw in the streets of Taormina.  I would also like to point out that she could have attended to her roots.  They were untouched, her outfit drab and shapeless.  In all honesty, I was unmoved.  I thought she could have tried harder.  Liz Taylor would have never stepped out as such.  There would have been diamonds and rare furs covering every square inch of her body.

So it's pretty... you've made your point

That constant rolling through of tourists must really get to the Taormina shop keepers.  I have never experienced a bigger bunch of pricks in my life.  What a load of sullen meanies.  It was actually comical how rude they were.  When it goes that far, it's actually enjoyable.  You can ask them to fetch about 10 pairs of different shoes from the back storage, and then not buy a single one.  Also, if you can do this at 5.55pm, it's even more satisfying.  My shopping experience in Taormina, became my worst shopping experience since Prada in Shanghai about five years ago.  For  start, I would like to point out that I have never even purchased even a handkerchief in Prada, so there is no reason why I chose to go in there in the first place.  However, in Japan you are treated with such respect wherever you go, or whatever shop you choose to wander into (it may be false, I don't care it still feels good). Anyway, after being Japan for a certain period of time, you become wrapped in cotton wool.  So when you enter the real world again, the harshness of regular people really upsets you.  Those Shanghai shop assistants laughing at me behind my back and bitching about my ugg boots in Chinese ( know they were, I just know it) really struck a nerve.  I actually sobbed and ran out......Although, in fairness to them, I did wear ugg boots into Prada, so it's a miracle worse didn't happen.  They could have based an entire episode of "What Not To Wear" around my outfit that day if I really think about it.  However, when Chalky wore old adidas tracksuit pants with a hole in the penile area into the Tokyo Prada (just to piss me off), he couldn't have had more fans....I think Prada need to globalise their customer dress code.

But with regard to my harsh treatment by a multitude of tourist-weary, Taormina sales assistants.  They were at the end of the season of tourist scum.  Plus a lot of the tourists there, are dressed in their best.  I suspected it was our shabby  outfits.  But, on our second visit, we had all worn garments without holes,  and I had dressed the girls in their rich girl shoes - i.e. shiny black mary-janes (which  actually cost 20 euros from Bata).  No attitude change - actually perhaps we were more hated because we looked less poverty stricken, but still spent nothing.  The reason we tried to scrub up a bit though, was not for the sake of the shop arseholes, but for our planned visit to the Grande Hotel Timeo for terrace drinks.  Taormina has many hotels, but the oldest and grandest is the Hotel Timeo.  I could just feel that Marlene and Greta had slept within those walls.

Mount Etna view, gin and tonic, and far less tourist scum at the Grande Hotel Timeo (except us of course) 

The peasants live it up ...and eat all the bar snacks....

There are, of course, many exquisite hotels in the world.  The majority are, unfortunately, out of our (and I would imagine, many people's) budget.  However, if you want to soak up a bit of luxury (even when actually staying at a Hanoi hostel for 2 bucks a night, and sharing a bunk bed with a Swede who has a penchant for midnight wanking), then think about going for a mere drink at a luxury hotel.  It's like a time-out from regular life.  It's only about 2 or 3 euros extra for a coffee, or a gin and tonic, and it comes with so much more.  The peace, the quiet, the sucking up from staff, the leisurely stroll you can take around the hotel gardens, the view from the terrace.  You just have to remember this -  if you catch any snobby waiters looking at your dirty havaianas - you have a right to be there.  It doesn't matter if due to your gin and tonic lash, you end up begging outside restaurants for people's discarded pizza crusts later that evening.  It's worth it sometimes.

After soaking up some rich people's airborne juices, we took a stroll in the nearby communal gardens.  Look, I like a garden as much as the next person, I just don't want to feel like I have to admire it or be that interested in it's foliage content.  Who cares how many species of plants they have, it's all green, there's some colour - ok very nice.  One thing I could do without in these particular gardens, and this town in general, are the Cum Trees.  Does anybody reading this know what I'm talking about?  The trees that smell like cum????  Well, the Taormina communal gardens are full of them.  It's a little disturbing to see your three year old swinging and sliding and tumbling around, while all you can do is breathe in the thick aroma of a badly aimed spray job.

It's not the first time I've noticed this.  I used to walk by a strong smelling row of them during my teaching days in the soy sauce town of Noda, located on the outskirts of Tokyo.  I did that particular morning "route", with 5 of my male co-workers every morning.  It just wasn't right.  Nothing like strolling with a bunch of English teacher losers, while under the direct sensation that's there's a giant pile of semen in the near vicinity.  Hopefully not on your face either.  That shit's fine for bukake movies...but in real life, please.   Nerd jizm is the worst sort too....Oh god, I just remembered I used to eat a banana every morning on the way to work too - no wonder it was all too much for me.  One of my co-workers would hassle me about tossing the skin over fences into people immaculately manicured bonsai set ups.  Whatevs dude - it's for the birds, they love banana skin.......

While recovering from the equivalent of being wanked all over by a bush, I resumed strolling Taormina's winding streets.  Not long after the commencement of my wander, I was further disturbed to see some washing hanging on a clothes line - which was right on one of the main streets.  I realise that washing has to be done, but tell me this; for a start, would you only wash two items at one time?  Maybe only the daks were actually scrubbed out, and the towel was put there for decoy (like when you go to the supermarket for the sole purpose of buying tampons, but you try and cover this up by also buying a pack of chewing gum).  But secondly, wouldn't you just dry the scruds over the shower rail inside?  Is it really the kind of thing you want blowing in the breeze outside your place of residence?  They'd be no doubt they were yours - you couldn't palm them off on your neighbour.  Plus you'd have to be pretty confident that your twin tub got all the skids out.  I took two photos, one at a distance to get the perspective, and one close up so you can see the finer details.

It's just so public

I just wouldn't want the world to know I strap this particular cut of brief

But back to the trees - after again a little google research, I now discover that I don't have repressed sexual problems relating to issues with penis paint.  The cum tree is real!  Others too have smelt that familiar - not revolting, yet uncomforting musty aroma.  This smell is, in fact, .....the ornamental pear tree.  It doesn't sound so bad.  Could have been a lot worse. But, I can assure you, they'll be no pear eating for me this Sicilian trip.......Though it's not long until we leave Sicily - on Saturday we resume our Italian road trip, and travel north.  Thank goodness for that.  I keep drinking too much Mount Etna red wine at night, getting all happy in a blurry kind of fashion, and then passing out early.  At least I'm homebound, as they'd be nothing worse than waking up hungover under an ornamental pear tree.....I'm sure it's been done before.....

Cum Trees; Not all pretty things are nice

Off to See Mount Etna

Don't cross that rope girls.....apparently it equals a singeing death

Etna giving it's all

Volcanoes are exciting.  There's no doubt about it.  There is something fascinating about a mountain that can suddenly go all psycho on your ass and start spitting fire and shit.  Do you think that insightful scientific description could make it onto the discovery channel?  That is technical stuff right there, I think I missed my calling.  I do wonder, however, how it feels to live beneath such a benevolent and picturesque, yet evil monster.  Etna is beautiful to gaze upon (especially from a distance), and it makes the soil of Sicily incredibly rich and fertile.  Yet it can also destroy villages with minimal effort......and has done for thousands of years.

Only smokin' when we visited, on a picture perfect day

Watch it Cock!

Mount Etna is one of the most active volcanoes in the world.  It is constantly smoking, and often erupting.  There are currently six craters that make up Etna, while eruptions can also occur on the flanks - where there are 300 vents of varying sizes, all brewing some kind of activity beneath.  Apparently, eruptions can happen at any time, as a couple of tourists found out twenty years ago when they were killed by an explosion near one of the craters.

Smile in front of one of the most active craters in the world Cordi

Hey Mum - look!  A river of lava!

It is times like this, when I pause to reflect, and think perhaps I should have done the above research before merrily skipping up to the summit, and encouraging my three year olds to peer in a smoking vent.  The thought actually did occur to me, as we were rocking back and forth in a 4 wheel drive bus on a winding road (if you could call it that),  on our way to the highest point you can go to, that perhaps it wasn't quite the activity you'd subject your most precious things in the universe to willingly.  Though it wasn't like we were alone up there.  A large number of people also seemed to be risking life and limb for a few good photos taken in one of the most inhospitable landscapes on the planet.

Go Etna Go Etna, Go Go Go Etna....

It is a strange quirk of nature, how the terrain close to a volcanic crater is black and completely devoid of life.  Whereas, just a hop step and jump down the mountain, the fields of the solidified and rolling lava-flow, blend with the soil, and create a environmental situation where life thrives.  It's fascinating to drive down, and see the point where bleakness gives way to greenery - and rows and rows of grape vines.  It's even more pleasing to taste the wine produced from the slopes of Etna, just as I'm doing now.  I'm about to have a third glass - please forgive any further spelling mistakes......

While doing my most common form of blog research - i.e a trip to the oldest library of the area I find myself in, and immersing myself in ancient dusty volumes....ok, a google search, crucify me - I came across this tip for those considering going to Mt Etna;

"We would strongly discourage you from venturing to the main craters of Etna without a qualified guide. Apart from the volcanic aspect, you must remember that this is a very high mountain and should be respected as such. The weather can change quickly, and it can get very cold even in the height of summer. If you are planning on doing anything more than stepping out of the cable car to look at the view, you should be properly equipped with good boots, long trousers, a couple of warm outer layers, hat, gloves and a waterproof jacket. Make sure you take some water and food too"

I'm proud of this one - that's why I enlarged it.....

It doesn't mention anything about casually popping right up to the top with your tiny children, while wearing thongs.  Look, at least I brought jumpers and forced everyone to put them on.  And I brought my boots in my bag too.  But it wasn't even cold though.  And after a trip down to one of the smoking vents, we were all sweating, and the jumpers then became annoying things I had to carry.  I was glad of the boots though, that solidified lava is unrelenting.  And very dusty...my french pedicure!....the horror!

Stark and bleak.....my outfit I mean - if I'd known photos were going to be taken....

Arenal Volcano at night -this is similar to what we viewed - no shit!

Granted it was a thrilling outing.  Perhaps not so thrilling as the volcano trip Chalks and I took in 2008 to Arenal Volcano in Costa Rica though.  There was a whole section of hotels built on one side of Arenal.  Tourists could then look at the lava flowing out of the top of the volcano from their hotel rooms.  Tourist operators set up some zip lines as well,  and squeezed a few more dollars out of the masses. A giant outdoor natural hot springs water-park was also developed too.  During a trip to this hot springs world, I actually saw teenagers shagging under a small bridge in one of the darker rivulets.  Didn't like to get back in the water after that........Imagine how fucked off the hotel operators were when the lava flow changed suddenly, and visitors could no longer see shit from their now crappy hotel suite.  Instead it could be viewed beautifully from a a couple of small guest houses around the other side of the mountain that were yet to be taken over and over-developed (I think the change in lava flow was a relatively new development when we went there).  We stayed in a place called "Linda Vista".  We chose the honeymoon suite.  Tip: If you are on your honeymoon do not rent this room.  Although, in fairness, it was one of the most incredible views I have ever experienced from a room.  Who cares about the bed bugs and scorpians when you can watch splurting lava and glowing rocks exploding out of the top and rolling all the way down the mountain.  We were close.  Dam close.  And we could see everything from our bed.  God knows how many times I woke up in the night to make sure we weren't about to be covered by a flow.  I couldn't believe that this kind of sight could actually be a benign threat.  It sure was pretty though.....Although so is lightning, and box jellyfish......

Who doesn't love a cable car? Maybe not the victims of Calvalese....

Feather light

Mount Etna wasn't so pretty up close, but it was interesting.  I think the girls loved the cable car the best.  And the volcanic rocks.  They filled their pockets with them.  I don't know if anyone has felt volcanic rocks but they are extremely light.  This is because a lot of air gets trapped in the liquid rock, and stays there when the rock cools down (thanks again google search).  There has been a lot of lava rock painting around our place lately = a filthy bloody mess.  Not to mention the fishing around in the washing machine to pull out piles of mini bits of Etna that have gone in with the loads.  Remind me to dress the girls in pocket-less outfits when we take out next volcanic adventure.

Apparently you can go skiing on Etna.  How amazing.  I want to do it.  However, some pistes and a ski lift station were actually destroyed one year.  It does add that extra dimension of risk doesn't it.  What's crashing into a tree when you can be wiped out by a molten river of liquid rock. measuring in at about 1000 degrees centigrade?  Anyway, as usual, we zipped away from Etna unlava-ed (could that be a new word?), and went to Taormina for drinks and ice cream.  As we had been up over 3300 metres for a few hours, we had that high as kite feeling you get when you breathe oxygen rich air air again.  We were all giddy.  Has there ever be a person this happy to have an expresso martini?  It was a good one though.....

Cheers to not having my skin singed to the bone by lava!

Sicilian Beaches Suck

Yeah sure, it looks good like this

Just not buying use of the word "beach" here

As I've said on several occasions - most things look much better from the air than at ground level.  That must have been the exact thought pattern of the dude who did that book "The Earth From The Air".  I really like that book.  It makes swamps of mud look great.  Although, when you've looked once, are you really busting to look at it again?  That thing is expensive.  I suppose you'd keep it for guests - position it on your coffee table.  It's pretty big though - you'd probably have to buy a bigger coffee table table to keep it on.....Well, I've been looking down at the beach below us for several days, just thinking to myself "Hmmm I've really got to take the girls down for a swim, it looks so inviting".  I did take them down to the rocky "beach" (if you could call it that ) right underneath our apartment.  You actually take an elevator down there as it's pretty far.  There are steps as well, which I've been planning to walk up and down for exercise......yep, hasn't happened, doubt it ever will....

It would have to be a large toss

Although it's nice to sit back at look at the sea from down below, there's not going to be any swimming going on.  To get Valli and Cordi in the water I'd have to sort of toss them in to avoid rocks.  Then there's the risk they'd get washed up across more rocks or sucked into the caves below the cliff.  It all looks very pretty, but that's about it.  So finally we packed up for a beach day.

just a couple of punters

pretty but uncomfortable

All I can say, is no wonder Europeans blow their loads when they go to the beach in Australia.  To appreciate just how good we've got it, every Australian should be forced to do their time on a series of European beaches.  For a start they are ridiculously crowded, often dirty, and pretty much always rocky.  They are also generally crammed with beach lounges that cost you ten euros to sit your butt cheeks down on.  What a rip.  There are desperate immigrants trying to flog you sarongs with hideous patterns on them, and cheap hats - also hideous.  There are restaurants along the shore charging mega-bucks for water, and serving shiteous food.  Though at least you can save money by being turned off your food by some of the bodies down there.  Don't get me wrong.  I am fully aware that I am not setting any standard for beach beauty.  My bathers are ugly, my skin pasty and my figure has seen the wear and tear of 2 months of piggery across Israel and Italy.  But at least I am not twenty stone and wearing a string bikini with jewels all over it.  Nor am I showing all the ladies exactly what I'm strapping while parading in my tight speedos.  I'm glad that I didn't get pre-90s plastic surgery, and also that I don't have skin that looked like it was fired in a kiln. And finally, if you are over 80, I think you need to accept that topless sunbaking and swimming is no longer acceptable.

A tan usually makes those fat patches look better

a pre-90s boob job at it's best

This 86 year old's stomach is flatter than mine

my feet are hurting and I'm cold

Averting our eyes, we stumbled over the rocks to a free piece of shore amongst the rest of the tight arses that wanted to hang on to their ten euros.  Things were pretty scorching in the sun.  I got the girl's clothes off, and tried to get them to walk down to the water.  It wasn't a success (black rocks really heat up in the peak of the midday rays).  Entering the water was also met with a lack of success.  Plus it was bloody chilly.  But I wasn't coming all this way for nothing.  With a push from me, we were in and swimming and it was ok when you weren't touching the bottom.  However, suddenly Cordi started screaming.  I was like "Darling it's just a rock, your foot touched a rock".  She keeps on screaming.  Then Valli joins in.  "Girls stop it, your feet just banged on a rock".  Valli starts saying "It's a spike it's a spike"......The screaming is embarrassing, everyone is staring.  I start hissing "Stop it at once, you're both being really silly.  That's enough!!!!".  I try to get out with them, they're still screaming, they won't stand on the bottom, I'm trying to carry both of them, it's not easy.  They are heavy and dragging down my bathers.  My left boob has come out of my bikini and the top of my pubes are on display (at least I fit in with the 60+ crowd).  An old lady waddles toward me.  She is clothed.  I am relieved.  She starts saying "Medusa Medusa" to me.   Oh FUCK!  Jellyfish!  No wonder the girls are still howling.  On further inspection Valli's entire ankle is a white welt and Cordi has one also - down the back of her thigh.  It looks bad.  Chalks comes and helps me, and we rush the girls off the beach.  An American tells us that while they're painful, they're not dangerous, and they stop stinging pretty quickly.  Sure enough, as soon as we pass the ice cream stand the tears dry up.

ouuuuchh

I felt pretty shit.  I can't believe I was telling them to shut up while they were in pain.  Not my best mothering moment.  It brought back memories of the year before, when I sent Valli to the naughty corner for biting Cordi on the shoulder.  She started bawling not long after sitting down, and I initially ignored her.  Then I realised something was wrong.  I went to investigate.  To my horror, I saw that she had sat in a line of fire-ants while in the nude and they were biting her all over.  I couldn't get them off, and had to jump in the pool and wash them out.  And they were right up there too.  That was awful.  Really truly awful.  My poor babies - what a mean Mummy.

All I can say is, fuck the beach.  Fuck the expensive lounge chairs.  Fuck the rocks.  Fuck the hawkers.  Fuck the tourists showing me parts of their bodies I now have nightmares about.  Fuck the cold water.  And most of all, fuck the jellyfish.  I'm going to the pool.  That at least also looks good at ground level too.

No jellies here my babies

Italian Cops: The Best Cops in the World

Meet my new chums.....

Rocky

The irony of yesterday's escapade does not escape my notice, considering what was under discussion in my previous post.  Yesterday we took a a day trip into the Madonie Mountains of Sicily.  Unbelievable scenery, lava crushed landscape giving way to rolling dry hills, with huge rocky outcrops perched on top of the very highest peaks.  And built into the rocks, and part of them too, little villages. An incredible sight.  Our destination = Madonie Adventure Land.  Luckily it really was more about the journey than the destination.  The best I have to say is that the kids looked really cute in helmets.  The worst; one tiny section of rope bridges and nets for them to climb on.  I don't know why they had to wear helmets, they were like 2cm from the ground.  The donkeys were out of service for rides, and the baby one had a festy fly infested sore on it's rump.  Lets just say, for anyone attempting the 4 hour drive here for destination alone, I would advise giving it a wider birth than you would a person with a fresh coldsore leaning in for the hello kiss.  I hate hello and goodbye kisses at the best of times.  Is it necessary?  I mean really.  Do most people out there really like going the lash, or is everyone being polite, because they think others want to....?

More rocky

OK, it was rocky - get over it

As I said, cute in helmets

Not exactly possible head injury issues on the "Baby Course"

Chalks springs into action

As we drove there, over a series of potholes and the shittest road since the one to Federal, the thought did occur to me that this was exactly the type of road that gave me those two flat tyres last year.  I thought again of my former tyre misfortunes later, when I saw a broken down car on the side of the highway.  I actually commented "The poor bastards - I'm so glad my breaking down days are over"........Hmmmm.  Perhaps not.  Scarcely 10 minutes later, there was a strange noise, like something was stuck under the wheel.  We slowed down and pulled to the side of the highway.  Upon investigation, it was none other than a flat tyre - my old friend.  Let the change commence.  As I previously mentioned, new jacks are incomprehensible to work out.  We even had to get out the manual.  There was just a couple of tiny (and again incomprehensible), diagrams teamed with a really detailed accompanying explanation.....in Italian.  We bent a couple of bits of the metal platform trying to hoist the car up, and it even slipped off the jack once - which could have been nasty.  But after twenty odd minutes, the old bitch was up.  Old flattie came off, and we got the spare out.  But something was wrong.  The spare was a rim with about 2cm of rubber around it.  What was going on????  It said temporary tyre on it, but I've seen temporary tyres. The are a smaller width than a regular tyre, but from outer rim to tyre's edge, they are the same as a normal tyre.

Stupidest tyre ever

We were like "Maybe it's a new style of tyre".  So we put it on anyway.  What else could we do?  It was a Sunday evening and we had neglected to bring a phone.  The tyre looked ridiculous (as shown above).


As we were contemplating the issue, suddenly there was a flash of blue lights, and there were the cops.  They got out and came to investigate.  Their English was poor, our Italian was worse, but we got the communication going.  They agreed with us, the tyre did not look right.  They read the manual, and also rang Avis for us.  Then they worked out that the tyre needed to be blown up.  It had no air in it what so ever.....it all makes sense now......But what could we blow it up with?  There was nothing in the back of our car.  But, all hail the police.  They actually had an air compressor in their police waggon.  They then drove their police car into one lane of the highway and blocked it off, so that the plugged in pump could reach our tyre.  While the tyre was getting air, one policeman started writing down a series of tourist destinations we should visit while in Italy.  The other one rang Avis back, and ripped them a new arsehole for giving us an air-less tyre, and no compressor.

Giovani and Antonio turn up to save the day

I was impressed.  It was my favourite international police experience to date.  We haven't had many though.  A few speeding fines mainly.  In Spain, we were about 5km over the limit, and the policeman tried to charge us on the spot.  When we didn't have enough money, he accompanied us to an ATM to collect the bucks.  Unfortunately our credit card didn't work, so the policeman threatened that our car would be towed away, while we would be left on the side of the road (with our six month babies).  Luckily my sister produced a working card, the meanie got his bucks, and we were on our merry way again.

In the Napa Valley in the States, about five years ago, we were pulled up by highway patrol.  The police officer said this; "I pulled you up because you were obviously speeding.  However, because of the immense speed you were travelling at, I was actually sucked into the vortex that you created in your wake and couldn't get an accurate reading, so I can't fine you.  SLOW DOWN"......"Yes Sir.  We sure will".

In Iceland, again about five years ago, we were pulled up again for speeding.  There seems to be a pattern doesn't there.......?  The policeman said "Either you can pay me now, or I can send the fine to your hotel".  Naturally we took the hotel option. Never saw it.

In Israel, caught talking on the mobile, all we did was act dumb (not a huge stretch really), and pretend we had no idea it was illegal.  We got told off a lot, but no real issues that involved coughing up cash.  Israelis love a tourist.  As soon as they realise you're not Israeli, they want to care for you, like you're a weak and sickly puppy.  I guess you are sort of a weak and sickly puppy when you're in a foreign place, and can't understand the language, the culture or the social norms.  Either a puppy, or a mentally challenged three year old.

And finally, in Morocco, the police were out of control.  They were pulling up every foreigner they could find and accusing them of speeding.  They would have pulled us up about twenty times the month we were there - sometimes twice a day.  They would always ask for a ridiculous amount of money.  Chalks would offer them a quarter.  They would take it.  Chalks decreased his offer it to a tenth of the original demand.  They accepted that too.  Fine paid, see you tomorrow.

Anyway, back to our heros.......Not only did the Italian police sort us out completely tyre-wise.  They also organised for us to collect a new car from Avis the next day.  Then they posed for photos with us, and dressed Chalks up in their jacket and sunnies.  After Chalks had had his photo taken they said.  "OK - we don't mind taking photo with you, but we prefer with your woman".  I posed happily with our new friends on the force.  I can be someone's woman, who cares?  One also gave me his email address - we can be penpals!  I haven't had a penpal since my Mexican one in Year Four - "Christmas Lopez".  She kept asking me for pesos - I didn't know what they were.  I was jealous she had her ears pierced.  So, due to jealousy and betrayal, the friendship faded away by term three.....

The smiling cops, and the thug in the middle wearing the police jacket...

Following the snap happy session, our new best friends then decided they would give us a police escort down the highway, seeing as we couldn't drive on the temporary tyre over 80km/ph.  So there we were, back on the road, a tyre full of air, and with our new chums, the cops, escorting us home.  Sometimes our luck is mind-blowing.  And Valli and Cordi?  Well, like the earthquake/tsunami in Japan, the floods in Thailand, the near canyon plummet in Morocco, and the cafe car crash in Melbourne - blissfully unaware of any issues.  This time, snoozing in the back with a fist full of crushed cannoli......Ah innocent ignorance - the best kind of ignorance.....

They put their hats on especially for the photo - nice boots too boys!