This is always a very good thing to say:

‘Driver, take us to Italy! .’ 

My goodness Farquar,  the drivers here are challenging –  they insist on driving their cars on the other side.  Roundabouts from the front seat are particularly nerve wracking, even for a travelled Man of Empire like myself.  Had to pour myself a soothing Scotch the other evening,  such was my distress.  

The other thing I have noticed,  the children here learn to speak a second language at a very young age – devilishly clever tots also being able to speak Slovenian or some such tongue. I can hear them practising with their parents. And yet they refuse to converse with me in English. Shyness perhaps?

The best meal of the trip so far?  The farewell to Slovenia lunch was superb,  pheasant in a cranberry and chestnut sauce for me,  lamb back straps for the ladies.  The restaurant was a hundred years old,  and before that a private house going back another couple of centuries. I am enjoying eating foods that are not available in Toowoomba.  Having stated that,  foal still features heavily on some menus however it will remain untasted. There is no inconsistency here – man’s best friend (the loyal hound) was off limits when with the Hearndens in Beijing,  likewise cat in Hong Kong and just about everything in Ootycommund.

Venice is beautiful,  and fortunately being the slow season there are only 2,450,856 other tourists here.   My theory is that if the tourists left Venice would pop up a bit higher out of the water.  We all love the fact that the WHS and Risk Management Committee seem to have taken a cue from our childhoods. There are no warning signs,  no flashing hazard signals,  no disclaimers,  no angst.  If you fall into a canal you’re a bloody idiot and it’s your own fault. If a kid falls in, then it’s still your problem – you should have been looking after your own child. How did we get to our current state in Australia? Sigh…..

Perhaps the answer lies partly in the photos attached – the rise and rise of the age of self.  Selfie poles did not exist before this trip. Even the word is new,  as are the selfie-pole sellers.   Last time they were African,  now they’re illegal immigrants from Sri Lanka or Bangladesh. They’re organised, protected and exploited by corrupt locals,  but still manage to live better than they did in Dacca or Colombo.

We are still on the search for coffee,  still looking for a quiet place in the city,  but still enjoying the experience.

Ross

PS Anyone want a selfie-pole or a carnivale mask?  They are so cheap in this town!