I showed up a ristorante in Rome the other night to try to get dinner and hit the sack early. It was 6:45 PM. The place didn’t open for dinner until 7:30.
I was talking to some folks from Cincinnati on the bus today and they said they were able to find a restaurant that served dinner at a “normal” time and it was all Americans.
The siesta concept makes sense to avoid the heat…but it’s still a change to now schedule a 3:45 ish meal to hold me over from noon to 8 PM.
American maps are so easy, foreigners say.
Now I know why. Most of our streets are organized in squares. You walk along one street all the way and eventually you’ll hit what you’re looking for.
In many European countries I’ve found circles. Walk straight and then “through” the circle (even though the circle juts out in four different directions).
For water lovers looking for h2o friendly countries, Switzerland and Italy are good bets. Both have fountains aplenty. By the way, I’m not unshamefully bringing my water bottle into restaurants. I simply can’t go broke on ordering 2 euro water each time I eat. Besides, in Italy they put bread on the table and you’re automatically charged for it whether or not you eat it.
If I had time, I would go to the Sam’s Store in Florence which specializes in goods for American expats and buy a nice big jar of peanut butter. Yes, peanut butter my friends is in short supply out here in Europe.
I went for a run today in Dresden, Germany along its stunning main river. Since I haven’t yet splurged and followed Chris Sacca’s or Rob Urstein’s advice, I was left to a simple run with an iPod and then the obligatory 40 pushups 3/4 of the way into the run.
For the push-ups I stopped along the side of the path, walked onto this platform type of thing, and dropped down and pounded out the bad-boys. One woman gave me a funny look, and briskly walked away from the platform where she was standing (even though it could easily hold several people). What? Can a man not give his chest a little attention it so badly deserves?
To answer this question, I must consult my trusted advisor and life guard Andy McKenzie. Andy, should I cower in embarrassment when doing push-ups in a semi-public setting? Or should I embrace a passion for the pectoral muscle group with the same gusto I pursue ping-pong, eating cottage cheese, and devouring pesto pizza?