Hello darlings :D

Sorry for being so quiet and absent. My art blog is the blog that is getting updated, for the simple reason that I am doing pretty much nothing but work right now. We have our assessment on Wednesday and after that I have to finish my dissertation for the final hand-in the week after.

I’ve been having late nights at the studio pretty much every night. Going home at around 9 or 10 on average. Last Saturday I decided to go a bit further and actually did an allnighter with Rich. We worked until 6am the next morning.

What we were happily unaware of at that point was that we were not alone in the building. At the same time we were working in the middle of the night on the fourth floor, someone was burglaring the floor above us. We only found out about it on the Monday when the security officer came over to us and said he had us on CCTV, letting the criminal in to the building without realizing it. The way it works is that the access to our studio is by swipe card. Everyone has one, so the security staff can see who enters the building at what time. You can only open the door with the swipe card and the door stays open for a little while before closing behind you automatically.

The criminal had waited outside until me and Rich came back (within a few minutes apart of eachother), then snuck in behind as the door was about to close. Seeing that on the CCTV was frightening, but nothing compared to the guilt we both felt of having allowed it to happen. Our head of year came and talked to us and told us that there wasn’t anything we really could have done. You just have to be vigilant and if someone is about to walk in to the building with you, you have to confront them and ask if they have a swipe card.

The thought of confronting a burglar gives me the shivers though. :/ I tend to think about the worse case scenario.

Hrm..! Apart from that incident, it’s just all work over here.

How about a satellite picture of the ENTIRE UK?
Click me!

Tonight will also be the coldest night in a loooong while. -20 or so. Which is incredibly cold for the UK. And it’s a wet cold.

28th

Had a lie in and was told that I wouldn’t experience a hangover because of the quality of the wine (it was local wine). To my surprise I felt absolutely fine the following morning. We got up and went to Genova city to do some shopping. I wrote down what I needed on my hand and we set off.

I have a strange cautious love for Genova. Adriano said that he loves Genova because it is a city that is alive and breathing. It is not a tourist hot spot. It’s a very honest place where the locals get down to the day to day business. People are very open and friendly.

The reason I’m cautious is because I felt a bit out of place and it was easy to be a little bit intimidated by the very narrow alleyways which sometimes held beggars and people trying to sell fake merchandise. It’s a place where you sort of need to know where you’re going since it’s not laid out for tourists.
The thing about Genova (and I think, a lot of Italy) is that there aren’t many chain stores. The boutiques are all pretty unique and the staff are actually knowledgeable… Dare I say passionate? While in the UK, many of the clothes shop staff just couldn’t give a crap. Genova is also a hot spot for anarchists, apparently. There are strong anti-Berlusconi feelings around here. Carlo (Maria’s husband) is against Berlusconi and isn’t afraid of saying it.

We went past several market stalls in one of the many courtyards of the city when I spotted one stall selling hand-made bags and belts. They were all unique and made out of different types of fabric. We started a conversation with the stall owner who was very happy to show me the belts. Not in that usual pushy way that many market-sellers tend to adopt (‘YOU BUY THIS YES? YES?’ Ugh,..), but he calmly showed the merchandise and gave me a discount when I decided to go for two of the belts. Fantastically nice person!

Genova doesn’t feel plastic. It’s hard to explain, but I really like it :)

After finishing the shopping, we drove back to the house where I showed Adriano a supermarket bought Tiramisu, to his utter horror :D Muwahaha. He gave me some kudos for being the first person to ever bring a bought tub of tiramisu to their house. We had long conversations about different types of food. It’s very interesting to hear other peoples opinions on it. Italians live for food. They even have their store opening times set after meal times. So food comes before business!

29th

This was the last day spent with Harriet, Adriano and the family, but Adriano was still working most of the day, so me, Tom and Harriet decided to take a trip to a spa in a nearby city for a day of relaxation. In the evening we had dinner together with everyone and said our goodbyes there and then. The reason was because we would have to get up at 4:30 the following morning and the family would still be asleep.
We packed and then went to bed content, full and with muscles a little bit wobbly after the spa trip.

(Possibly the best car in the world)

30th

Up at the ungodly hour of 4:30 to drive down to the train station. It was cold and the regional trains proved to be scary once again. Our booked train to Milan wasn’t showing up on the screen at our platform. This was an issue. We had no idea if it had been cancelled or what was going on. Regional trains also tend to be unmarked, so you simply have to know which train to get on… It’s not tourist friendly, to put it mildly. :P

Harriet was making phonecalls and sending text messages to her friend working in a nearby station who gave us updates on what was going on. Finally after a few chilly nailbiting minutes, our train arrived and we made sure with passengers on board that it was the right one. Turns out the computer system on our platform was just being a bit glitchy. Hrm…

We said our bye bye’s to Harriet and began our travel towards Milan….
… Then to switch train to go to Venice. At this point, I must explain that I feel like tearing my hair out over one thing.
I didn’t take enough photos of the absolutely stunning alleyways in Venice. Luckily google delivers, so if you are curious, just google-image ‘Venice alley’ to get an idea of what it looked like. I’ll try to show you as best as I can with our limited images.

We arrived in Venice and got to our Bed and Breakfast. After a short nap it was time to explore the city! Adriano had told us earlier that we should stick to the main roads to start off, to avoid getting lost. But Venice is a tiny city… How can you possibly get lost?

Oh dear.

Me and Tom walked for hours, seeing both landmarks and tight hidden alleyways, leading us in obscure directions and either dropping us off by the riverside, a dead end, or popping us out on a tourist trail again.

(Tom giving the thumbs-up for a very tacky Gondola, complete with heart shaped seats. Oh god.)

(Ladies getting on a Gondola)

We relied mostly on being able to get back to the train station to find our BnB, but this was the day we found out the hard way that a map was essential to exploring Venice.

After about 4 hours of walking around, seeing mostly mask-shops on the tourist streets (Running joke: ‘Oh, Masks! Omg look MASKS’) and locals going about their daily business in the tucked away corners of the city… Me and Tom went back to our room, exhausted.

We emerged later on that evening to get a pizzeria recommendation from a local. I think at this point I spoke the best Italian I had over the entire trip. Mind you, it was still rubbish, but I could at least make myself understood. So we went to eat dinner and then, with full tummies, we returned to our bed and fell asleep.

31st

The following morning, we woke up to something we had been warned of by our BnB owner. The flooding of the streets. With me and Tom having no waterproof clothing or shoes, we had to improvise before setting out to find a nearby shop selling wellies.

(Flooded downstairs. Well, shiiit.)

We returned to the room after the successful purchase with our boots and legs completely soaked in lovely Venetian water. After this point, our wellies would be on at all times.

(strolling down for some breakfast)

(Locals and tourists going about their daily business)

(Local shops have to pump out the flood water every morning. I admire their perseverance. I think I’d go mad after three days.)

(Police directing pedestrians walking on platforms over the floods)

(sky view of the platforms)

(Me, cold!)

(Impressive landmarks. Also useful if you need to spot where you are)

(Inside the big catholic church with golden mosaics. You weren’t allowed to take photos in the main bit of the church, so you’ll just have to imagine it :P)

Venice as a city, is unbelievable. It literally feels like someone put it there as a prank. An entire city, built on stilts with its streets flooding everyday…

Still. I have fallen in love with this city.

It may be crowded with tourists and it may be selling a lot of cheap tat. Some of the locals may be a bit twitchy and it may be hard to find a decent place to sit down and eat without having to sell an arm and a leg… But it doesn’t matter. It’s not about the shops and it’s not about the food.

(Many of these pictures were taken on a ferry ride around the city)

The architecture and the atmosphere of the alleyways simply leave me inspired and gobsmacked. I told Tom after the first day spent in Venice that I wanted to create a short story set in that city. Just to give me an excuse to draw the architecture and the entire feeling the place gives me. I admit the main character in this story would mostly be window-dressing to give way to the atmosphere of the city and the plot itself would be pretty basic… But I have an urge to paint that place! I wonder how many other arty people have felt the same way? Judging by the many paintings sold in Venice, I think I’m not the first one.

(ferrying past the fish market.)

(And a more regular food market next to it)

(flooded gondola place)

This day was spent again walking around and exploring, later to return to the room with snacks to watch the series called The Wire on my laptop while glancing at the fireworks outside our window. Most relaxing new years ever.

1st

It was time to go home. I left Venice reluctantly, but silently promising myself that I would return at a later date with the sole purpose of drawing and painting the place. This is yet another small project I want to do. Never enough!

Me and Tom began our travels home and found (to our surprise) that everything went smoothly. The trains were on time. The buses were easy to find. The plane departed and touched down in Bristol without any drama. The taxi at the airport was quick to get us home.

We entered our cold house and Tom was quick to turn on the heating and the hot water, but it would take an entire night for the house to warm up again.

… And we were met by a very icky smell in the kitchen. Things had gone off in the fridge.

Ah. It’s good to be back!

25th

Woke up on Christmas Day and had no work to do, food-preparing-wise! Instead, it would turn out to be an entire day of EATING. I was eating until 11pm that evening. O_O

But first! Me and Tom got to meet some new people who would spend Christmas in the Italian house. I drew place-name-tag things for everyone to have on the table. We started to eat… And kept on eating…

(Best lasagne in the world)

(Capeletti!)

(Two manly men)

(Three girly girls)

Until it was time to open the gifts! Opening presents here is so remarkably different from my home in Sweden that it was a bit of a culture shock. In Sweden the present opening is complete chaos where all the kids RIP their gift wrapping open and throw it over their shoulder. It takes maybe 5 minutes for everyone to see what they got for Christmas.

Here, in this family in Italy, one person at a time opens a gift. You first acknowledge who it is from and read out what the card says. Then you open it while everyone watches. When you have unveiled your gift and commented on it accordingly you go over to the person who gave it to you and give them a kiss on each cheek. :D

Opening all the gifts must’ve taken an hour or so, but I really like it because it was so relaxing and you felt like people took the time to thank you.

Right! After gift opening… MORE FOOD. And it continued all evening. I ate so much I thought I was going to explode. Family members fell asleep on the sofa in between meals, snoring loudly. I found it amusing :D

(Sugar cubes drenched in alcohol)

(Another sugar drenched in HAWT :P)

26th

The day after Christmas was the first day Adriano had off work in several months. His bakery is stupidly busy in November and December. So we decided to take the opportunity to go visit their friends in a house in another set of mountains called, Piu Monte (Near Ovvada). The couple was called Pietro and Sara. They are renovating their house where Sara very recently (at that point, only a few days earlier), had an accident. She had leaned out the second floor window/door with her hands on the railings, when the railings suddenly gave way, making her plummet down to the ground. Apparently the scene was horrid, with her lying in a pool of blood in the snow. It was only by pure luck that a relative happened to be at the house at that time as Pietro was at work. Sara escaped with a broken arm and very bruised face, but if she had landed a few centimeters to the left, she would’ve lost an eye as her face would’ve connected with the railing.
Shocking stuff.

We drove over there to have dinner with them and talk to her to see how she’s doing. Pietro was helping out with the cooking and I was surprised to see him smoking over the stove. It’s something many Italians don’t even bat an eyelid at. I was gasping inside, thinking: ‘how can you smoke over such amazing homemade pasta!?’
We then went to bed fairly early due to an early start the next day… For something special…

27th

… Which meant we had to get up at 6 am and tip toe out of their house to get into the car. We set off when it was still pitch black outside and without any breakfast in our tummies.

What we were going to was about a 3 hour car ride away. We stopped at a roadside service station at one point to have an espresso, and then we continued driving.

A tantalizing glimpse of what was to come was shown to us in the far horizon.

Getting closer…

After passing several villages, we finally arrived at a fantastic Alpine village which has been kept fairly traditional with old houses being restored as they were several hundred years ago. I think it’s better to just show pictures, rather than me explaining. They were absolutely fantastic. I fell in love instantly. I think the scenery around the village also helped a lot.

(Fresh Alpine water. Safe to drink and delicious.)

We had come here to go skiing.

(Me in my sexy borrowed ski-trousers from the early 1980’s! Oh baybeh)

(Map of the slopes with two warning lights, showing the wind-speed and the avalanche risk on the top of the alps)

Anyone who knows me from Sweden will know that I don’t do skiing, but I had promised I’d give it a go. I mean… It’s not everyday you get the offer to go to the bleedin’ Alps! So. After a quick breakfast we went to the ski hire place to check the slopes. All this following information may be old news to lots of people, but I didn’t have a clue.
Apparently the slopes have different colours to show how difficult they are. Blue is the normal slope. Red is hard. Black is the most difficult slope available. Kiddie slopes aren’t graded. They are below blue.
So! Because I don’t really have a clue how to ski, I said I’d want to try standing on skis on a kiddie slope first, then go over to a blue one. We asked the man who was hiring out the skis and found out that the place we were at only had Red and Black slopes (gah) and because of the icy weather, the red slope now had an icy cover over it and thus had been upgraded to a black slope. He said beginners shouldn’t try it.

I think Tom was much more disappointed than I was. Well. It showed. In all honesty, I wanted to try to ski again since I had built myself up for it for days, but I wasn’t willing to do it on a black slope in the Alps.

So, we decided to do the next best thing. We got a pedestrian pass up to the top of the Alps….
What we saw simply cannot be justified with photos. You had to be there, seriously.

(Look at the wind on the top of that peak)

When we reached the top, it was incredibly windy and it felt like a completely different world. A bit like an alien planet.

It was storming so much that you couldn’t walk in the direction of the storm without hurting your eyes. Luckily we managed to get to the top restaurant and hid indoors where we had lasagne and polenta. I also got some liquid hot chocolate. Not the powder variety, but the proper kind.

(Long drop…)

After descending back down to the village, we went to a museum which showed how the people in the area lived about 500 years ago. Sadly you can’t take photos in museums in Italy. :(

A few hours later, we started driving home. It would take us about 3 hours to get home, but we also stopped in a town called Gavi where we ate dinner in a fantastic restaurant. I’ve found wine I actually like. Which is a bit scary. This also meant that I got a tiny bit tipsy and managed to break a glass on the table by simply placing it on the table surface. I maaaay also have talked loudly once about poo. Hrm.

We came back late. I forgot my bra in the bathroom and felt incredibly embarrassed the morning after.
That wine was a killer.

I’m writing this on my laptop in the kitchen of the Italian family right now. I’ll try to keep an updated diary to post when I get home, as I tend to forget lots of things if I write everything when I return to the UK. So!

21st.

Me and Tom took a taxi from our house to the airport. The night before had presented some lovely snow (as pictured in an earlier entry), but this left Bristol with some severe traffic disruptions with weather warnings coming in thick and fast. To avoid the general travel chaos, me and Tom decided to take the taxi rather than the bus (which would’ve been cheaper). So we arrived at Bristol airport intact.
After some issues with Ryanair being anal about the luggage space, we managed to check in and get on the plane (which had been slightly delayed). We were happily unaware of what was to come.
The weather was still quite terrible. It was snowing. It was cold. It was icy. Other flights were being cancelled. Apparently Easy Jet’s entire selection of flights were just called off. We were up in the air at this point.

Our plane experienced some turbulence, but nothing too dramatic. Then the captain spoke. The airport outside Milan called Bergamot had been closed because of severe weather, so we were going to the closest available open airport: Turin (Torino). The passengers fell silent for a moment before the confused and frustrated chatting started between them. Then more information came. Ryanair would provide us with a bus from Turin to Bergamot, but it would take two hours to arrive and then perhaps 3 hours to get to Bergamot. At this point there was an audible gasp going through the plane. It was already 8pm and pitch black outside, save for the snow of course.

All the passengers applauded the pilot as we landed on a precariously icy looking runway and noted the presence of the entire crew of emergency vehicles waiting on the sidelines. I had never seen that before. I think we exchanged a nervous joke about emergency landings or something similar. It was a bit tense, but then the confusion took over. Me and Tom now found ourselves at a completely different airport than we had expected. It was late and pretty much all public transport seemed to have shut down or was in the process of shutting down.

After a brief chat with Tom’s sister Harriet (whom we were going to spend Christmas with) over the phone, we went in to autopilot with me doing most of the leading, being the person who knew most of the language.

It was just chaos. Lots of angry passengers mixed with confusion over transport and the weather warnings. People looked lost and most were either staring blankly at train times or chatting loudly on their phones (probably with their relatives waiting at the other airport). The arriving and departing buses were chocka-block with people, so me and Tom decided just to go for a taxi into Turin central train station. Luckily, whilst waiting for said taxi, we started chatting with another British woman who was queuing behind us and found out she was going the same way, so we decided to share the ride (Taxi’s are expensive in Italy).

Because of the state of the motorway, all the cars were driving veeeery slowly, including our taxi driver who was leaning forward so much his nose almost touched the windscreen. Getting into Turin took us about 45 minutes, so we had a lot of time to chat to the nice British lady called Christina. Topics ranged from education to politics. It’s always very interesting to hear other people’s opinions.

Arriving in Turin, the time was about 9:40pm, the sky was pitch black, the streets covered in ice and the train-station was absolutely packed with commuters. We said good-bye to Christina and tried to figure out a last minute plan to get to Tom’s sister Harriet’s place that same evening. All our previous plans had been completely blown out the window and we found ourselves in a strange city where we basically had to trust the taxi driver to give us instructions on how to get to the train station. After that, we only had Harriet on the phone, trying to help us find the correct train to Genova.

At this point, I must explain the difference between an English or Swedish train station and an Italian one.

Italian public transport is infamous for its complexity. Buying tickets is a nightmare, and if you get on a train without stamping your ticket in a yellow box somewhere on the platform, you get a fine. Then you need to actually find the right train…! If you’ve bought a regionale ticket and boarded an intercity train, you get a fine, and vice versa. Knowing which ticket and train is which, is very very hard.
Anyway…. Enough rambling about the train service. I think you get the point. It’s difficult. :P

So! We were at the train station, very lost. It was late, so all the information desks were closed. It was also travel chaos with the snow, leaving many trains in a standstill or with severe delays. At this point, I was in charge and went through the crowd in search of something resembling a ticket machine. We found one, but it was all in Italian, so we had to call Harriet to have her translate over the phone. There were about 5 different options for trains going to Genova, and I clicked one while chatting to Harriet and Tom started feeding the machine our last Euros. The moment he had put the money in, Harriet shouted: No good! No good! Over the phone, which I instantly repeated and watched Tom trying to scratch back the money, but it was swallowed by the machine and our ‘no good’ tickets were printed.

We now had the wrong tickets for where we were going, and we had no idea which train to board, but within 3 minutes we found one saying ‘Genova’ which was departing in less than a minute, so we ran to it and jumped on board, not knowing if it was the right one. Harriet was urging us on over the phone: ‘Just get on the damn train!’

This would later turn out to be the very last train that would go to Genova before the snow took over completely.

We sat down in a random carriage with our invalid tickets and looked around nervously. Harriet told me on the phone that I would have to find out from either the conductor or the passengers which train we had ended up on.

My Italian is very very poor and the Italians themselves know barely any English. This wasn’t really a good situation to be in and I was feeling incredibly nervous, but had to do it myself since Tom’s Italian is nonexistent, so he wouldn’t be able to understand the replies, even if he asked the question correctly.
I shakily asked a few passengers about the train and found out to my relief that they were very friendly and that we had managed to get on the right train! We had to get off at an obscure station before Genova called Ronco Scrivia, so it was important that we got onto the train that would pass that particular station.

Anyway. After that stressful episode of running and trying to understand things, we settled down on the train and expected a journey that would last about 1 hour and 40 minutes, but the train was being delayed and even stopped at a random station for over half an hour at one point, leaving me and Tom very shaky since we had no idea where we were and what was going on. Our carriage emptied of people at this stage while two odd looking punk men entered and decided to sit close to us (when all the other seats were free…). I thought they behaved really strangely, like they were either drunk or… errr.. High on something. They were loud and twitchy. So me and Tom were once again on edge.

The train moved slowly towards our station. Problem was, Italian trains tend not to call out stations, and they only stay on the smaller stations for about a minute, so you have to keep an eye out to avoid missing your stop. Me and Tom jumped off at the wrong station and one point and had to scramble towards the train door with our luggage before it closed on us. Gah :D

FINALLY, past midnight, we arrived at the right station and jumped off into deep snow. Nobody had cleared off the platform. It was still snowing a lot.

Harriet and Adriano (Harriet’s Italian husband) were waiting for us in their little car. After lots of hugs and kisses we bundled up in their little white car and started heading up the mountain.
But the drama was not over! Oh no! While we were driving through the little empty and snowy village, we saw a rather large woman on the side of the road in clear distress. She was waving at the car to stop, so Adriano had his car glide sideways to a halt and open his window to chat with her. I could hardly understand her. She was obviously slurring and drunk. She wanted to be taken home, about 2 kilometres from where we were. The street was deserted and quiet except for her. So, we had Tom jump into the backseat of the car while the woman (later to be called ‘the fat mad bag lady’) got a seat in the front. We drove her home while she mumbled and sobbed.

We arrived at her house and made sure she got in through the door, then we sped off to Harriet and Adriano’s family’s house up in the mountains. We were all pretty exhausted, but Harriet had prepared food for us when we arrived (me and Tom had eaten barely anything all day). It was amazing. After food we collapsed in bed…

22nd

… To wake up the next day at around 10 am. Tom still had to do work since Christmas is the busiest time for his business, so after a delicious breakfast, me, Harriet and Nicoletta (Adriano’s sister) left him in the kitchen with my laptop while we took the two big dogs out for a long walk up the snow-covered mountain.

It took about two hours because of the deep snow, but we reached the top where a little church was standing and were able to sit down to eat some tangerines. The views from the mountain are spectacular. Nicoletta is also crazy, which I like :D

(Me in a huge borrowed michelin suit :P Nicoletta to the Right!)

(Me and Harriet and the dogs. Sitting by the side of the little church)

(The inside of the tiny catholic church/altar on the top of the mountain)

(The Church)

We came back to the house where poor Tom hadn’t been able to properly communicate with Maria and Carlo, Adrianos parents, but still managed to help Maria out in the kitchen somehow. We were knackered after treading in the deep snow, so when Maria served her home-made gnocchi and pesto, we gulped it down in delight!

(Coffee after every meal)

The TV was on in the corner of the kitchen where the local Italian news showed the travel chaos in the area due to the snowy weather. All the roads were covered in ice, making driving impossible. People couldn’t get to work. All the trains were cancelled. The motorway was closed. The airports as well. Me and Tom had arrived the day before on the last train, which had been extremely lucky. God knows what we would’ve done if we hadn’t managed to get on that train.

Later on, we made some lasagne from scratch in preparation for Christmas. Tom really wanted to eat it straight away, but had to hold back…!

(The first steps to making lasagne/pasta)

(making lasagne sheets)

Even though we had been snowed in all day and just about all the roads were closed, Adriano still had to go to work in the morning and then come back late. I don’t know how he managed to do that, looking at the news where they showed cars in ditches, having skidded off the road. Adriano is a baker and has to work the hardest around special occasions. Christmas is, unsurprisingly, the busiest time of all. He only sleeps for about 3 or 4 hours per night before he needs to get back to work. It’s crazy.
He came back in the evening at around 10 or so. Harriet had cooked some wild boar(!) with baked potatoes. Neither me nor Tom had ever tried boar before, so it was a new culinary experience. I also managed to find a wine I actually like. I don’t do wine normally. Ever. For pudding, we had Adriano’s local hazelnuts chocolate.

That evening, we went to bed with full and happy tummies, but the power suddenly went off. Me and Tom were in bed in the pitch black house, listening to what was happening outside. It sounded like snow was sliding off the roof above us and hitting the ground below, so I just shrugged and fell asleep. We would find out what the sound was the next morning…

23rd

… We got up at 7am as we had a busy day in front of us. We had to get in to Genova, meet a friend of Harriets, buy lots of stuff, make lots of food at home etc etc. The list went on.
After a quick (but delicious) breakfast, we headed out to the car…

…only to find it almost covered by snapped off tree branches, weighed down by ice and snow. By some absolute miracle, the thick branches had not landed directly onto the roof of the car (which is a soft top roof), but instead spread out around it, leaving the roof intact.

We started by removing all the branches and shoveling the snow away from the car, thinking that we would be able to leave after that… But we hadn’t anticipated the ice covered road, and seeing as the driveway was sloping upwards, the car was just skidding on the spot, unable to get a grip on the road. We spent an hour and a bit just going back and forth, shoveling snow off the road, trying to put a carpet under the wheels to make it go forwards, spreading grit out… etc.

All whilst the nearby neighbours were watching us.

Just as we were about to give up, the car managed to get up to the top of the drive and we (now more than an hour late) drove off to Genova.

In Genova, we visited the food market (Gaahahgaaghhh drool) and a few other shops before heading over to Harriets friend to have coffee and cake. The friend, nicknamed ‘Trumpet’ is learning English, so she got to practice it with us. She was great fun!

At around 2pm, we drove back to the home up in the mountain village and prepared pizza dough for that same evening.

I had a little nap downstairs, wrapped up in a blanket by the open fire. Can it get much better than that?

Well. Yes, actually! This Italian family happens to have an icecream machine… And they make the absolute best homemade icecream IN THE WORLD. When Harriet had finished the icecream (which we were going to have that evening after the pizza) I was given the job of cleaning out the icecream machine… With a spoon… I’ll let you picture that.

That same evening, we went out to their little ‘Pizza Hut’ (Internal Joke) that is located outside the main house. We had some home made pizza with a friend of theirs called Roberto (nicknamed Robbi).

I ate so much that I actually felt slightly ill afterwards. I got stomach cramps and couldn’t stand up straight.
Not to worry though. Apparently Maria had a special super drink of doom™ , that was mixed to aid digestion. At that time I didn’t really care about the fact that this mysterious drink was green. Anything to make the cramps go away…! Harriet gave me a tiny bit in a glass and told me to go slow. It was mixed with pure alcohol bought from the chemist. After sipping on this almost pure alcoholic drink (holy shit), my cramps disappeared within 5 minutes. No joke.

I guess Italians are used to eating too much. So much so, they mix their own remedies for it.

24th

Got up at around 10am the next morning and prepared for pretty much an entire day spent preparing food for the Christmas dinner the day after.

We got to learn how to make capeletti which the family normally does as an activity to bring everyone together. It is a job which takes several hours. Seeing as the 24th is the day Christmas is celebrated in Sweden, I called home over Skype to wish my family happy holidays, and they got to see what we were up to over in Italy!

(Tom with ‘Santa Maria’ as she is called by her children)

Only bad consequence of this now is that my family back home think I can actually make this Italian food, so expect me to cook when I come to Sweden :P Errr. Well. I can’t really say I know how to make everything from scratch like they do here in Italy!

… And I definitely can’t make this!

You’ll have to ask these two if you want octopus salami (No joke :D)

(Harriet and Adriano)