A 37 day imaginary travelogue of a trip to Rome (with a few scattered other places such as New York). This is written to match the journey I am actually taking, and so each post is concurrent with the more or less actual day my wife and I are experiencing in Rome.
What day number are we on?: seven
Level of writer's drunkenness (in real life, scale of 1-10): two and a half, but the half may indicate that it should be three.
What am I eating (in real life again)?: nothing now, but I should soon check on a kind of Ratatouille dish I'm making.
Map or picture?: Messi, without blonde hair.
Any other notes/Status: it is a little after three in the afternoon. If I can keep up my one per half hour posts, and don't sleep, I can finish this all in time to go to work tomorrow!
Today, already a week into this trip, is the first day where I am in charge! I hope I don't let everyone down. But I fear that only Marcus, teen librarian (and hopefully GA, ever emerging soccer fan) will be pleased. Because today, although I did wander into several mind bending 400 year old churches, and saw another three Caravaggios, the big event of the day was in the late afternoon. I took us into a bar called The Highlander. We got drinks, and watched on a medium sized screen the Barcelona soccer team play a team called Sporting Gijon.
Should I feel sad for turning my back on Rome for this? Nah. It felt terribly like Rome where we were, and so did watching soccer. Plus we drank wine. Plus we won, six to nothing. Messi scored five goals. And though this all happened a thousand miles from me in Rome, that's 3,500 miles less than usual! Viva Europa!