Our new stay has it all including a king-size bed. To fully take advantage you would expect that each person would lay in the middle of their own side, maybe in an X configuration to languish in the luxury, not making contact with the other and feeling like a king, hence the name. No, that is not reality. I choose the right side and Carol chooses the left and right sides. I cling to the edge with both hands while lying on my side and she mimics an anaconda entwineing her legs around my torso as she searches for a heat source. That’s fine when you’re 21 because there might actually be a heat source, but that baboon has left the jungle.
While Carol can sometimes be a bit of a princess; she has to have the right file to sand her broken nails and her callouses, or build a snug little fort around herself with pillows (5) when she’s reading in bed, and she has a fetish regarding sheets and thread counts. She claims sensitive skin and because she’s a notoriously bad sleeper she requires every advantage to stay asleep, so 100% cotton sheets with a minimum 600 thread count are the standard. I, on the other hand have fallen asleep on a gravel highway shoulder while waiting for a tow truck.
I have no input on bedding choices, but I do reap the reward of her purchases. They do feel amazingly good and now after all this time together it is my standard also. Which brings us to our latest apartment. On our first night here after brushing my teeth getting ready to join her in bed she calls me over and says ‘Feel this, now feel over here’ running her hands over the sheets. Well they didn’t feel ideal but it’s getting late and let’s just close our eyes and turn out the lights. ‘They’re polyester, and this side is pilling’. Hmm, she’s right, one side does feel more used than the other. One side must be the X person and the other is the anaconda side, and they do feel like polyester! WTH?! We’ll never fall asleep now. Not to mention that I’m having meat sweats from gorging on prosciutto, this is going to be one shitty sleep. First world problem.
Our second day here had us walking downhill to the main town center. Part of the route had us following our trail up from the train station and then we veered through a residential neighborhood. Chatting as we walked on this pleasant day with only a few people about we saw a young couple several meters in front suddenly stop and pick up their dog. We followed their gaze and out of some shrubs traipsed a pair of wild boar.
At about 150 lbs. each and with their heads about 1/3 of their body with huge canine teeth protruding from the sides of their mouths, hairy, with skinny legs, and a gait that makes them look like they’re walking in high heels, this pair was u-g-l-y. Apparently it was garbage day and they had picked up the scent and were out on the town. They have amazing strength in their head, neck, and shoulder area and can root out boulders up to 40 – 50 kg. During my research I read that they can reach 40 kmh and jump up to 150 cm (4 feet!). On our first trip to Italy we stayed several kms up a steep mountain road at an olive grove Airbnb and our farmer hosts were dealing with large herds that ravaged the ancient terraced properties by digging at the base of large rock walls and demolishing them just overnight.
They were not intimidated by humans at all and wandered to an unknown spot down a lane and we cautiously went on our way looking over our shoulders from time to time.
A short time later we were amongst the throngs in the old center, some of who were there as part of a bus tour and were waiting around a large central fountain with views of a large fortress on top of a hill. With mixed weather we were adding and subtracting layers as we went and stopped by the fountain to store a jacket in our backpack and I overheard a couple of similar age to our own who were looking at a map. The word Canada came up and I went in for an intervention. ‘Hi, where are you folks from?’
I’ll give you the abridged version as I was standing in front of them for over half an hour. Carol bolted for a pharmacy and whatever shop she could find as it was apparent that I was setting down roots. They were Taiwanese nationals who had been living in Abbotsford for 17 years and had raised their two children there.
He was my kindred spirit and was eager for a discussion. Within minutes we were parrying back and forth with the only way to make a point was to interrupt each other during the briefest of pauses to take in a breath and leave the door open for another round. He was very excited and complained that the men in his local circle were too domesticated and shunned any kind of meaningful discussion. I was not of that breed.
It was shameful that the Liberals held power once again, too many rules, too many genders, Canadians were too soft and lacked a cohesive culture, they needed more adversity to build a backbone and have something to stand for, they needed to monetize their vast resources while there was a market for them, and on and on. By his tone you could tell that he had seen and faced adversity in his home country where being soft meant defeat. He was not confrontational but firm in his beliefs and values and when Carol came to collect me we parted with a handshake and respect for each others stance (mostly we were in agreement). His wife had been reading beside him looking down almost the entirety but did chime in on the more important parts as she had heard his version many times before no doubt.
Our goal for the afternoon was to tour the aforementioned fortress, Castello San Giorgio and take in the view overlooking the city and harbor. There were two options to reach the top; a free elevator to the first plateau and then a free funiculaire for the second leg, and then a sturdy climb to the gate leading into the museum and upward to 2 terraces for the spectacular view. The other option was 600 stairs. The funiculaire ride was smooth and entertaining.
With our first task completed we descended back to the old center and started for the downtown promenade of the inner harbor. Buses were available of course but shoe leather was our transport as per usual and now the skies were balmy and we made our way through the park and visited in front of the statue of Giuseppe Garibaldi, a victorious general and considered one of the fathers of 19th century Italy. The statue was splendid and showed great detail.
We were now just across from the boardwalk leading to the harbor. We didn’t really know what to look for as far as important points of interest until… dun ta dun… we caught up with a foursome of two males and two females. The males in front, with the tallest and most beguiling of the two with his south american-style hat and charming accent, was directing the other three’s gaze to each interesting highlight of the downtown skyline and waterfront. A tour guide should have been his calling as he bore a bon vivant air about him.
We edged ever more closer to the trailing women, trying not to trip them as we skulked along taking in his obvious knowledge of the city, but also inadvertently catching the females conversation. They talked of many concerts and programs that they been to since they had last met and important milestones in their family lives. IT IS NOT STALKING IF YOU NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN!
We went over bridges and past the docked fishing fleet and on to a row of yachts that were berthed in the marina until finally the group turned towards a hotel bar along the water. I was salivating at the potential for new friend opportunities but Carol was having none of it and felt that we had gone far enough. I was crushed. There was so much more to glean from these complete strangers. So, following Carol’s lead we separated further and further apart until… dun ta dun… they stopped and were just standing in front of the door and continuing their animated conversation. I couldn’t stand it and broke free from Carol’s grasp and walked boldly towards them. NO! I heard from behind me, but I was on a mission and 50 years of marraige was not going to stop my progress. ‘Hi there, I just wanted to thank you for the tour’ I said with a broad non-stalking smile and explained what we had done and who I/we were.
Just as I thought, they too were looking to speak to total strangers. They laughed and casual introductions were made. The maestro was even more dĂ©bonnaire from the front and offered that he was Croatian, living in Italy with his Spaniard partner. Cool. The other couple had just moved to the beach town of Lerici (le-reach-ee) a mere 30 minutes by road and they were from Nova Scotia. I thought God was going to push me into their arms! Carol, while acting as though the many times that I have embarrassed her was somehow bad, came sauntering over and we filled out the sextet. I regaled them with my accomplishments (internet entrepreneur and capable handyman) and we talked back and forth until it was time to disassociate ourselves and we began to walk away, longingly looking back over my shoulder I made one last bold move and asked if I could take their photo and immortalize them on the popular blog, Blue Delivery. Without a moment’s hesitation they drew together and gave their permission with broad smiles and pleasant demeanors. And thus I now offer up their visages.
The rest of the day is a blur as my feet felt levitated with the barrage of stimulation that we encountered, almost from our doorstep. Lerici was on our agenda as a day trip for tomorrow anyways, but now we had some context to what the day might bring, and wouldn’t it be grand to run into our new friends on their home turf. Too bad I didn’t bother to ask their names. Oh well, there’s plenty of strangers in the sea.
Blue Delivery 