Trieste

From Croatia we went to visit Oliver’s home in Trieste. Sadly did not get to visit his whole family, Oliver and his parents were not at home, but we did get hang out with his brother Alessandro.

Trieste provided a sharp change in life style from Croatia. One day sleeping under the stars, the next soft beds, and concentrating on finding the best cup of espresso in the morning, the best place to eat tapas for lunch, and what fine wine to drink for dinner. We repeatedly went to Alessandro’s favourite wine bar and would spend hours, sampling different cheese, pershutos, and of course wine.

The last night the owner of the wine bar, Alessandro’s friend Luke, got a little bit tipsy. Luke closed thirty minutes after we arrived at 9:30, but we had just opened the first bottle and were forbidden to rush through it so we stayed a little later. The first call from Luke’s girlfriend came at 11pm, and he explained that his last customers were just finishing and would be home shortly. The second bottle was opened shortly there after. This was followed in an hour by another phone call which was followed by another bottle. Next came the Champaign, which to my worry and amazement was opened, cork, foil, wire tie, and all, with one swipe of a sword employed by a half drunk Luke. A phone call followed. At this point Luke was three sheets to the wind having been enjoying rum drinks between the three glasses of wine. He began repeatedly walking up to Tim, enquiring if he liked “Fucking,” and when Tim would say yes, slap him on the back and decree: “Good, then you are my friend!” The last phone call came as I was scouring through bar in search of olives and other Italian bar snacks, Tim was receiving the tenth back slap, and the others were dancing to the latest euro-trash-dance-hits behind and on the bar. The music stopped and Luke announced that everyone had to leave; now. We asked what we owed, he said, “come back and pay tomorrow.” It was 3am and we were being rushed out the door. We were not a block down the street before the lovingly loud voice of his girlfriend could be heard coming from the other direction. Now I don’t speak Italian but, I can guess what “Bastito” means.

GPoD: Open up the dog house. – Öffnen der Hundehütte!