Bottega Di Rosanna Neive

... and feeling as if I were about to burst, a homemade artichoke pie and goats cheese specific to the region made an appearance.
"Which do you want?" Carlo asks me.
"Both" I hear myself respond.
As I picked the final crumbs of the pie off my plate, and licked the soft cheese from my fingers, I could feel blood being shunted from every non vital operation (limbs, skin, brain) to my stomach. A shot of espresso, saved me from an imminent food coma, and gave me the requisite energy to ...

... the young Albanian man who likes to practice his slang "what's up dude?", and I get my olives from the old man who doesn't speak a word of English, but always slips me a few extras after I pay. I limit myself to five Euros a day, and eat as simply as I can bear. I've survived off a potato and leek soup for a few days now. I would like to say I've turned into some sort of 'mega dirt-bag' but that would suggest that some sort of transformation has occurred.

... to call Carlo. I'm a little gun shy about arriving in a new place and expecting things to go well. With my luck I half expect to have a wrong number or something.

"Hi James" his voice surprises me. He's already waiting. Brilliant. I'm so happy to see him that I greet him with a big hug. I only knew Carlo for three weeks of the Tour d'Afrique last year. He was one of the Lonely Planet relay team members in Ethiopia. He was always very ...

... stretch out better late than never.
We pushed on Gary carefully negotiating hairpin bends, Kev desperately looking for something to hang onto, Rich resisting the urge to hang onto Gary's seat belt for fear it would cause him to loose consciousness.
We were soon climbing the mountain again this time heading for Italy through the St Bernard Tunnel. There a change of driver with Kev back at the helm and only an hour to Turin.
We were going to make it or at least ...

... br>we were busy minding our own business when we saw a Giant Coq, looming menicingly above us!
After ignoring Doris yet again, ready to take on the Mountain for the first time, Rich at the helm with gay abondon, ignoring the acrid smell of burning rubber and hot brakes, Kev was strangely quiet in the back. as we edged our way towards Chamoinix for the promised night in a hotel room with its own bathroom!

... mongering. I knew of the 80 year war, but I hadn't realized it was due to the Dutch just thriving off battling with all their neighbors and taking in treasures through their succesful ports. Apparently it was considered the highest honor to by your way into the tiny factions of military in order "kick some *****es asses" as was their modo, I am fairly sure.

During our little lunch before the next stop a bee kept trying to fly into ross' mouth. I think it was ...

... t eat as much as you can as fast as you can to be happy right away. You take your time, you sit down, you talk, you eat a bit, talk some more, order some wine, wave your hands around and yell a bunch of words that all end in vowels, and then order your real meal.

Save for Naples, what I would deem as the Compton of southern Italy, these cities are beautiful and the people are classy.

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Turin, Piedmont, Italy jeastty