That morning I met the distractingly pretty parking attendant who had taken to calling me ‘Meester English’.
The first night’s parking had been eye-wateringly expensive. But I was straight off a ferry at 10pm and tired. I had paid less for a room… on several occasions.
But we had got chatting over the three days and she cut me a deal. It was now half price. Ahah..beware of charm.
I toddled up to the ‘Lavasecco Pony’ with my washing. Strange, but with a name like that it was likely to get the marks out.
I think the lady asked if I wanted my pants ironed. Not sure.
Later I arrived at the garage.
Cars in various states of general collapse were parked all over the shop. The tools most in use seemed to be an angle grinder and a club hammer.
I delivered Pedro into their care. ‘Be brave. There won’t be any anaesthetic.’
I said to the guy that if he was draining the coolant to put anti-freeze back in as I was going back to Blighty. I had to use Google Translate for that one.
I sat on the bumper of a small tanker to wait in the shade, but there was a nasty smell. I realised that it was a septic tank emptying truck and got up rather quickly!
I asked the mechanic to test the fan. I had never heard it come on. He revved it at mid-range for what seemed ages. After five minutes it cut in and we both cheered. Ridiculous really. He was already a Pedro fan.
Then I asked him to remove the rear wheel trims. Which cleverly were only held by three of the wheel bolts so you didn’t need to jack it. He was going to put them in the boot but I told him they were a present for him. He muttered something and went inside. I asked the man standing next to me what he had said. ‘Now all I need is a Panda missing two wheel trims.’
I told Pedro he looked more rugged with his bare rims. We’d give the Corsa kids a run for there money once we got home. Oi, oi saveloy!
In time all was finished and I was so grateful that I over-tipped him. As I was about to drive off he came running out of his office and stood in front of the car to stop me. OMG I thought. What vital part has he not tightened up. But he only wanted to give me a T shirt with the name of his garage on it. Sweet.
I walked up and out of town to the Botanic Gardens.
Love a botanic garden me.
G not so much.
I had sprayed up in preparation but still ‘i bastardi’ got me. I hate those guys…but they love me big time.
It was okay as these institutions go. I liked the succulents best.
Then I went even further on my mission to reach maximum altitude.
Passing the roman amphitheatre and a Capuchin convent.
Nearly half an hour of steady climb in the sun. Finally I reached the Museum of Modern Art.
Some Futurist stuff downstairs but up above a brilliant collection of Mino Maccari.
Very playful stuff. I loved it.
Outside. A delightful public garden that put the Orto Botanico to shame. I sat for half an hour on a shady bench.
Down the hill and I came to a strange building. It looked like an old-fashioned telephone exchange. But people were coming out with bags. I went in and discovered an impressive market on two floors and in full swing.
The fish were ‘stiff fresh’ as Rick Stein would say.
I found out later that this was the famous San Benedetto food market. No? Nor me, but it is the largest indoor market in Italy. Everything you could want was here. Among the more eye-catching sights was a whole horse’s leg and thigh hanging from a hook. Beds of cool herbs that you could spend a scented night in. And a three metre swordfish, enough for the five thousand. The traders were cheerful and not shouty. It was, overall, a soothing experience. Oh to do your daily shop here instead of a faceless but overly branded place where words like ‘finest’ or ‘taste the difference’ were trademarked and tagged onto bottles, jars and cans.