PASTA IN PISA & A CYCLING TRAGEDY

In the last year/18 months or so I have dropped off social media for many reasons, one mainly being that I needed to concentrate on things that mattered and I simply didn't have the time for it.

When used in a healthy way and posting from a good place it can be an enjoyable experience - especially if you are connected with people you actually like, love and share mutual interests. It's as simple as that.

I am setting myself a little challenge as a form of self-care and for personal development reasons. After much reflection in a difficult year, writing has always been a passion since I was a little girl. It is now part of my growing business and part of my life purpose.

I'll be posting photos of places that mean a lot to me and a story behind it. Perhaps these photos will inspire you to travel to a place or give you a little laugh. Here is my first:

8 years ago I travelled around Italy for several months and it was just magical. This memory popped up on Facebook of Pisa.

That day I walked around with a serious pasta bloat and high waisted Levi’s we’re not the best attire. It’s not an illusion - my tummy was desperate for some loose palazzo trousers and oversized pants.

That evening was followed by more pasta at yet another beautiful restaurant. I struggled with the choice and so the waiter kindly offered to give me a pasta selection so I could try them all. I had about 6 different dinners. I thought the pasta bloat at lunchtime was bad, the dinner bloat was something else. But one must soldier on.

A group of Italian boys who were studying at the university in Pisa witnessed my pasta frenzy and were clearly impressed at my eating efforts. They joined us and we drank wine by the river until 3am. They spoke good English and tried to teach me Italian. Giuseppe laughed rather spitefully at my attempts at rolling my tongue - my pronunciation was somewhat off. He was taking this teaching session far too seriously. I just wanted to get pissed, soak up the ambiance and have a dance under the moonlight.

The sun began to rise and I needed some sleep immediately if not sooner. I had no idea how far our hostel was. Giuseppe and Co offered us rides back on their bikes. He clearly felt bad he had mocked me the entire evening.

We walked towards Giuseppe’s bike to find his front wheel had been stolen. I absolutely lost it. Why not just take the whole bike?! He didn’t see the funny side and began to throw a huge strop. He strutted down a dark alley, his poor bike squeaking into the distance... leaving us all in fits of laughter. Never to be seen again. Thanks for the lift then darling.

Thankfully though one of us got a photo of this awful tragedy.

To this day I wonder where his front wheel ended up.

P.S - I miss travelling. I miss Italy.