Italy 2012: Day 2

In the middle of the night on Day 1, I had insomnia. I was awake, therefore, when a large aftershock occurred. Given that I was sleeping in a centuries-old masonry building in a bed with a GLASS HEADBOARD, I moved to the center of the room, away from masonry and glass. Since I couldn't sleep, I updated the USGS "did you feel it?" questionnaire. The things we do when we can't sleep.

The workday started with some dark brown brew and a teensy piece of pizza.

Then the cute walk to work. In our travels we'd pass by the horse butcher shop. I would not have noticed if it hadn't been pointed out to me. The sign was a beautiful red decal of a horse profile.

The museum was tremendously beautiful. Here was the view as we ventured back from our coffee break:

 

I'm not at liberty to talk about the forklift deinstall, but I got to work with really great people who balanced sweet humor and professionalism in a nice way. My main conservator, Augusto, paints gorgeous abstract expressionist paintings when he's not conserving forklifts.

The coffee shop at the museum, I forgot to mention, sells these:

We ate lunch here in the park every day. The guy who owns the place remembered She Jimmy from the install and doted on her daily.

This first day we noticed a woman at a nearby table having a seizure. Pretty distressing. Her friends helped her and we soon had a full range of local medical emergency folks on hand. Italy seemed oddly together in this regard.

After work She Jimmy, Time Machine, Luton and I went to Tiratappi for dinner. I have reflected on Tiratappi this week and still think that the three meals I ate there were three of the best meals I have ever eaten. If I had to pick a last meal, I couldn't possibly. But a fantasy last week of meals would include one here. Start with a very cold bottle of lambrusco. Continue on with the raw fish and avocado dish below, have the octopus appetizer, any main dish, and finish with the ricotta, orange and chocolate custard.

No evening in Mantova would be complete without a negroni sbagliato at the local bar in the next piazza over. Then back to our yummy, air-conditioned centuries-old rooms.