Travel Archive

  Who are you, upon my toe? What secrets do you have to know? Your big headphones and bigger screen; your skewed smile and glistening sheen. Another face within this carriage; a mother, a child, a woman – in marriage. Underground traveller, regular and proud; you do not flinch to announcements, loud. You take it in your fixed, wide stance. Not for you, this travelling dance, of rocking movements as we go, where is my station, do you know? Another crowd, through train doors come, as I cling to life with fingers and thumb. They barge their way in to my space; an armpit rests upon my face I want to say, oh do you mind? Though fear response will not be kind Their crumpled

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And so, all good things – and some very wet and drab things – must come to an end. As I alluded to in my opening postcard of this viaggio, I’m really not one for spending time on my own. So if that has shaped some of the postcards, in a negative way, then I guess it is part way understandable. That isn’t to say I haven’t had a good time – far from it. Moments like being on the terraces with the Pro Vercelli fans, finding a great pub in Lambrate to hitting the Birrifico Italiano brewery for their pils festival were so good – they they have given me ideas for future visits – just with others included. I like Milan. I’m not

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Let the train take the strain. That was Sir Jimmy’s advertising catchphrase. As though all other forms of transport were a hardship. I love catching the train in Italy. I love watching the countryside roll by as I stare, transfixed at the rolling landscape as it flashes past my window. What makes it all the better, is that I usually travel first class – especially on the regional trains. Yesterday, as I stood in front of the ticket machine, trying to buy a ticket to Milan, from Bergamo, in Italian – I noticed that the difference between first and second class was €1. A 50 minute journey with only a euro’s difference in class? Why are people even bothering to travel second class? Admittedly first

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This is the postcard where I just dump stuff. The parts, and places, that didn’t quite get the time – or warrant the attention of their own, individual postcard. The disappearance of Cacio e Pepe from the average restaurant/tourist menu was rather disappointing. Travellers clearly no longer see the want or the value in plain pasta, cheese and ground pepper. You’re as, if not more likely to get foreign beer in the restaurants and trattorias near the main sites. I still absolutely adore eating a sweet, sugary cornetto for my breakfast – it’s why I’ve smuggled some back with my shampoo. What ever connotations and historical wrongs that may be associated with the Vittorio Emanuele II Monument – it is still, day or night, one

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I’m at a crossroads. Not an emotional, sell-my-soul to the devil kind of crossroads – more the virtual, unsure where to go next kind. See I worked in Milan. I could spend the rest of my life drinking coffee or Negronis in Piazza del Duomo, but then I’ve recently booked tickets to fly out to Rome. We’re going as a family. We’re going at the end of March. So as you can imagine – there’s a lot for me to fit in on my Il Viaggio between Milan and Rome, as i travel along the length of the old boot. So what of this crossroads? Well, I know at some point I’m going to have to head south down the A1, but before then –

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