Fishpond

I feel as content as a man can be that has just fruitlessly walked 5 kilometres in search of a laundromat. Google said they were open but one was not and the other no longer exists. So I’ve just spent a happy 10 minutes stomping on my undies in the shower.

Today we caught the bus from Malcesine to Peschiera del Garda - a town at the bottom of the lake. I chose it principally for its railway station and proximity to the more famous Sirmione. It turns out to be ridiculously pretty. The vivid blue green water surrounds the fortifications of the old part of the town. Under every boat, the fish are clearly visible. (Peschiera is Italian for fishpond.)

On the way we met a dog wearing a hat.

The impressive city gate is missing the Venetian lion or any other symbol because conquering Austrians knocked them off. After our unintentionally pointless exercise, Lyn and I consoled ourselves with wine and beer respectively. 

My t-shirt needed editing. It should have read:

1. Laundry

2. Nothing