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About Naples

Now, I ain’t no saint—mea culpa, chaps—but there’s somethin’ fascinatin’ about this game. Did ya know, back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Proper poetic, innit? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ of some toff in a top hat, whisperin’ that down an alley. Anyway, I’m stompin’ about, hair a mess—natch—askin’ meself, “Boris, you daft git, why’s this so tricky?” Like trackin’ a ghost, it is—here one sec, gone the next.

Hookup Belluno

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After that, we head back down. I’m feeling all accomplished, right? But then, we hit the town again, and I’m starving. We stop at this little pizzeria on Via Garibaldi. I order a margherita, and it’s like heaven on a plate. Seriously, I could eat that every day. But then, the waiter spills water all over me. I’m soaked! I’m like, “Really, dude?!” But he just laughs and says, “You needed a shower anyway.” I mean, fair point.

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