Neophyte’s mistake

The blog that isn’t written is the blog that goes unread. I have completely overlooked an account of my trip to Rome two weekends ago. Terrible, terrible, terrible. What’s a blog for if it isn’t current? I think I blocked it out unconsciously from here because it was work. So I missed Ireland v Wales at Croker and a few other things but sure, it was grand.

I arrived on the Thursday afternoon to a surprisingly cold Rome. We were housed a few k from the city centre so we tried to find our way into the centre by walking – big mistake. Large roads and manic traffic makes for unhappy wandering Irish visitors. Dinner at a restaurant nearby was made necessary by something called hunger which descended upon the two of us. When the waiter serving us found out we were Irish, he insisted on grappa at the end and on the house. Ordinarily that’s just fine by me. I’m getting a little pissed off with the Irish as big drinkers though, I mean where did that come from??

Friday was the start of the Conference and keen to appear interested, every session possible was attended and soon discovered that I was largely out of my depth. Still and all, got to meet some well-known people which is ok until you realise they too are badly made up and have little to say more than platitudes. The jealous co-workers back home can stick it.

Saturday was spent again at the Conference but this time I got wise: I was more selective and of course I had been seen at the day before’s proceedings so it did not seem that crucial. Thereiss only so much lauding praise on the European project that one man can take. My fellow Irish delegates eemd determined to stick it out. Sunday provided an opportunity to see some Rome when the photo above was taken. What a fantastic city but I would not like to be there mid summer. It was so bloody crowded but every turn made for fasdcinating viewing and tried to get to see the as many tourist sights as possible in the short time available.

Crazy taxi drive back to the hotel ensued. He overtook at high speed around hill corners, up on to the curb, on the wrong side of the road etc etc. He was clearly out to impress us and succeeded. For some reason there was a dispute about the fair despite the fact we were fully aware of the meter reading and gave him a little more as a tip. In the end cultural misunderstandings and he just gave up. He might have made us cack our crackers but he sure as hell was not going to cadge us for every penny.

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