I ought to be able to report that provisioning today was a tedious business. It was not. I wandered through San Pietro and found myself at a cafe watching the Italy-Uruguay match. With the aid of the odd campari spritz, became quite involved. The audience, all locals, were intense and animated. Two old ladies took me though the history and the dynamics of the match and we sipped campari together. Italy lost.
Commisserations were extended and passionate. I fell in with an Italian film director and a freelance photographer. We spoke at length about Moto Guzzi motorcycles, Ansell Adams and football. Time passed and I missed the last ferry to Certosa. But the marina kindly sent over a runabout to bring the old man home.
I am ready to move on, but my newfound Italian friends have insisted that I must spend a day at San Tomas, to visit the basilica Maria Gloriosa Dei and Scuola Grande San Rocco. I will do just that, before departing tomorrow night for Croatia. But first, some pasta and a very small red. There are storm clouds brewing again and I would not be surprised if there were another thunderstorm tonight. Who cares.