Okay, I'm being followed by a thunderstorm...

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So, thunderstorms in Germany? It's to be expected, right? It's not a country renouned for being hot and dry. So fair enough. But thunderstorms in Italy? That's starting to take the micky.

We were in Periugia, as a base to explore Umbria. I'll get to why we were in Umbria specifically in a moment. Perugia is a pretty little town, but without an enormous amount to actually do unless you get their for one of their festivals (Jazz festival, Chocolate festival, and so on). What it does have going for it is it's metro, which is a sort of ariel-tram system, built and powered in much the same way as a rollercoster would be. The carts that run along it are little futuristic opalesent plastic things, looking amusingly like giant white bugs trundling along the rails, an effect hightened by the fact that they run on their own rather than in trains. Overall, they're incredibly cute.
As a side note, it seems every urban mass-transit in the world execpt the London Underground offers a 'go as far as you want for 90 minutes' ticket for the equivilent of less than a single British Pound. It made sense in Perugia (one line, in a town you could walk across in that time). But it's true in Rome, and Athens, and the tram system in Frieburg...

But I digress. Back in Perugia, we had been on an abortive walk in the Monte Cucco National Park. It turned out there were no seinic mountain walks within walking distance of the train station we washed up at, and by the time we found that out we had been walking for hours in the tipping rain, and I had stunned byself by walking straight into a roadsign (by hat cuts of my vision above my eye level). On heading back, we agreed to treat ourselves to a nice meal, only to find that every resturant in Perugia was closed, except the one that was packed with (presumably) resturanturs watching Italy vs Someone at football. So we resigned ourselves to getting some snacks from the vending machines, and heading to bed. Except we had not change, and no-one could give us any change. Fair enough, their was a machine not far away that could give change, by the metro station. It had stopped raining, so I set off. Overhead, a flicker of light, which I assumed was a streetlight malfunction. I got the change. I was heading back inside when there was a second flicker, this time acompanied by thunder. I ran inside because I knew what would happen next. And the rain came down in sheets. There were no specacular view this time - just the certain promise that if I left the shetler I would be instantly and remorslessly soaked to the skin.
Epiloge: The vending machine was empty of everything good. Damn.

I said I'd explain why we were in Umbria, and as it's mildly entertaining I'll tell you. We were on the train to Rome, without any clearer plan that 'get to Rome, spend a couple of days, go somewhere else'. Opposite us was an Italien (well, as half Italien, half Swiss) who, after an intresting problem with some canned cheese we'd layed on the feed us for the 22 hour train ride, got talking to us, and finding out how vauge our itinery was, gave us a great deal of useful advise - what to see, what not to bother with, things that were worth doing but wouldn't be in the guidebooks (we never got to find the orange garden he recomended), how to recognise a good Italien Resturant, and finally, which bits of Itally to go to to avoid the tourists. He told us to avoid Florence and Venice because, even thought they were beautiful and well worth seeing, they were literally heaving with tourists at this time of year, and were a real trial to endure. Umbria was his suggestion, as it let us enjoy backwoods Italy, near to Rome, good for ferry conections, and take in some historical sights, like Assisi.

I have more to say about Italy, but I need to get out and enjoy Athens now, as the day is getting on.

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