By the time you read this I’ll be in Rome airport, most likely, having spent a night on the train. I’d tell you the story of the women with whom I shared my carriage, but I don’t know it yet. … Continue reading
There’s a flurry of Sicilian from the top of the steps and Marco laughs. “You’re in trouble!” In the car on the way over he’d told me with a certain amount of glee that not only was it unlikely that … Continue reading
I’m walking home from the market with bags full of fruit and vegetables when the man appears at my shoulder. “Sei in vacanza?” I don’t look at him. I’m not sure if he’s a pickpocket trying to distract me from … Continue reading
I’ve already got a tub of ricotta in my shopping basket, but then I notice some others. They’re bigger, and look to be made locally, rather than by big brands. I bend down to take a closer look. I’m not … Continue reading
