I used to take all of August off when I lived in Rome. The whole month to myself, far too much time for any human being to handle and way too much time to get in trouble and trouble I did.
Set out for Florence, heard it was rich with art, a cultured city far above what was going on in Rome.
Italians say Southern Italy, the moochers and so on, those without Industrial purpose, they start in Rome and it gets worse the farther south to Calabria you go. No respectable Milanese or Fiorintino would live beneath the southern boundary line unless they were there to buy up land and get rich on the poor.
No different than the States, just a bit more covered in good pasta and red wine.
I will make this short as the trouble I got in, not proud to blast it all over.
Brought my guitar and a tent, no money for hotels. Set up shop in a little area for tent goers during some art and music festival. I went to a lot of those back then from Sardenia to Capri but mostly for the wine, not the music or art.
So back to trouble.
I started playing my guitar and a few people gathered, one in particular. She sat for awhile and listened for awhile and then we talked. I looked into her eyes. I fell in love. Trouble right there. She was from Rome, nor far from me and we went out for three years.
It ended and the trouble was I knew it would that very same night.