My sore toe

Sometime yesterday or the day before I sprained my right big toe. It is really sore. I know that looking back at this blog and remembering this trip I'll want to remember the things we saw and did - but this is a reminder to me of the prosaic fact that my big toe was really sore. When you travel, if you are lucky, you shed some cares and open your mind to new experiences. However, it isn't an out of body experience. My toe hurts.

We slept in yesterday (Monday) which was a good thing. Then we explored the food shops in the Quadrilateral of Bologna. This place is famous for tortellini and torteloni and food generally. Lyn enjoyed herself shopping for the next few meals and tried to pick up some Italian. 

Lyn decided the strawberry tart needed to be sampled.

The photograph is in front of Bologna's San Petronio basilica. The church looks unfinished because it was unfinished and then the Bologna(ns?)/Bolog(nese?) decided that it was finished. For a time this massive brick structure was the biggest church on the planet. They began a faux gothic facade, which would have made it look like a lot of churches in places like Florence, and then sort of ran out of enthusiasm. Then they decided they liked the fact it was different and have left it that way ever since.

We took our surviving purchases back to the apartment and headed off for an adventure. We had decided to walk to the hilltop church of San Luca. The entire way is covered by arcades - 3.8 kilometres!  It also, as we discovered, gets steeper and steeper. It became an ordeal. (DId I mention my toe hurts?) 

About 1.45 we reached the summit. The impressive Neo-classical church looks out over the the (smoggy) city and the surrounding hills. We also discovered it is closed every day from 12.30 to 14.30. We also discovered the next bus down wasn't till 2.20. We were hungry. I explored and found a nearby restaurant. After much debate Lyn made the excellent decision to eat at the restaurant and drink 2 glasses of Sangiovese each. Toe slightly numbed, I looked at the church interior, nice. Lyn refused to climb the 30 or so steps to look inside. She gets bloody-minded when exhausted. I was reminded of the great Pompeii strike of 2013. ("I'm staying right here. You go ahead and look. I'm not moving.") I could have suggested that this was her opportunity to light the 579th candle of the trip so far but sometimes relationships are built on the things you choose not to say.

Sangiovese had ensured that we missed the bus but we knew the tourist 'train' arrived at 3.17. We waited with a perplexed Franciscan called Jerome from the Phillipines who had come to San Luca after some months at Ognissanti in Florence. He was unclear about how he would get down the hill but knew he needed to be on the real train to his new appointment in Rome at 6.00. We discussed the beauties of Ognissanti and assured him we would get him to the station if his lift didn't arrive. It did arrive. Eventually, so did the San Luca Express. I have to say that under normal circumstances I wouldn't be seen dead in the San Luca Express ... but you see - my toe...

We got home, had a sleep, and then needed to go to the supermarket. Lyn insisted that she was capable of navigating the journey alone with the map. After 2 seconds of giving this serious thought I went with her. 

The last two evenings have been spent watching TV. The flat has a smart TV? I can program it to search YouTube. This means programs in English. Yeh! Sometimes you take refuge in familiarity - especially when your toe hurts.