Hotel Cristallo Assisi
Via Los Angeles 195, Santa Maria degli Angeli Assisi, Umbria, 06088, Italy
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The day of the boat, the railway and the bus
We woke today to a still day. Capri was a goer. We breakfasted and set off in our little mini coaches to the waterfront. A boat called the Sorrento Jet pulled into the dock and we boarded. The trip was a little bumpy, but not too bad. A tour group of early 20's sitting near us were all a little nervous, but there was nothing really rough, just a few up and downs.
The Isle of Capri was very lovely. Our guide Enzo (same guide from Pompeii) met us at ...
Random thoughts and observations Part 2
... or whenever the mood takes them. And still there is no road rage. They beep their horns, and then move on. Even our bus driver just mumbles under his breath and then keeps going.
The soil here is a very pale colour. Not like the red of Australia or even the black of the Positano beach.
There is a lot of marble used in Italy. Every hotel seems to have marble stairs.
It ...
Myfavorite saint was worth the wait
... convinced me that it would be better to pay 30 euros (special price because he liked Maya) to take me to the second station. After first I said no…but then decided it would be best. He drove me to the station, and I paid for our tickets.
The train finally arrived and a few women helped me to get my stuff onboard. This train ride was by far the best I have seen. On either side, trees with their golden leaves were standing tall, while after dark, ...
An Umbrian Excursion
... in view. Ordinary cafes have peeling ceiling frescoes smoke smirched and ghostly, or otherwise recently reemphasized with bright colors.
There was a fearsome cold breeze in the city particularly at night that made it hat and jacket weather but during the day the sunshine was always bountiful. Our time in Perugia was short and sweet. Wandering the streets night and day we grew accustomed to the winding paths and cascading stair ...
Mazzaforte: England in Italy?
... Glasgow whose accent, although relatively gentle compared with many of his fellow Glaswegians, was distinct and pronounced.
“Great Scot!” declared James at the dinner table. His sisters giggled and egged him on.
“Aye, laddie!” one interjected, followed by more giggling.
His riposte was cutting and insightful: “So… where are you from again?”
Silence. Their Englishness was, in a sense, ...



