Bologna to Rimini, Italy

Fairly pissed off with the world today. It started off well enough, with a breakfast of very good raisin pastry and cappucino (2.20 euros total) at a cafe near the albergo, but went downhill from there. Actually, that’s not quite true: the day started with noisy street cleaning machines going by my window in a narrow alley at least 5 times (WHAT? Did I say Bologna was dirty? Certainly not my little street on a Friday morning!)

I don’t really know what to do here. I feel like I should do something, but all I feel like is getting on to Rimini. Sometimes I wonder why I travel – all I can think of to do that’s interesting is to eat. Sometimes – frequently – I’m not inspired to do anything else other than wander around and look at things, and that seems a waste of a grand tour. [Edit from 2020: I’m revisiting these posts, primarily to fix broken photograph links. I would love to go back and travel to these places and talk to the people. My approach to travel and interacting with people has changed completely since I wrote this. Ugh, I was an idiot.]

11:38 Paying 2 euros cover for a 1 euro coffee pisses me off. And my GPS isn’t working – apparently a corrupt memory card. Mood worsens. [Voice from 2020 again: what the hell did I need a GPS for?!]

13:09 waiting on train to Rimini. Tried to format the memory card before leaving the hotel, but realized I mailed the necessary adapter home yesterday since I figured I didn’t need it any more. :-|

I have injured my left foot somehow. No known event, but it aches constantly and occasionally is extremely painful to walk on. Lovely. At least I seem to be adapting to the heat… or getting accustomed to being sweaty and stinky. My strategy is to find a local who is more stinky than me and stay close (but not too close).

19:51 I have seen the Italian version of a friend of mine, who because I am a coward will remain nameless, anyhow, he works (owns?) a restaurant in Rimini. He walks around and loudly talks, flirts, sings for/to/at the guests. For a couple of Polish (?) women he put on some suggestive song and danced, on the sidewalk, even more suggestively, then went to another table and took their order (after proclaiming his love for one of the women in that group).

I discovered earlier today, while wading out of my brief dip in the Adriatic, that my cheapo H&M swimming trunks are transparent when wet. Ooopsie.

The restaurant manager finally targeted me (being male I was low on his hit list). “Wheeeeere are you from?!” “…Ohio…” “OHIO! Cleveland!!! I LOOOOOOOOOOVE YOUR STATE!” <walks off>