==Posting on the next day because the stupid internet cafe reboots their machines when your time runs out, thank God for the new Autosave feature==
Just finished a very fine dinner at an upscale vegetarian restaurant and Jazz club. You heard me right. Vegetarian. Since 1976. Jazz club. Upscale. Like, “We got sat in the bar, because Chris wasn’t wearing a tie” upscale. So, my message to the US is “Vegetarian does not have to be hair-shirt and sandals!”
We were at a table next to a young couple, and we exchanged the usual shared laughs when a server dropped a fork and similar. Towards the end of the meal, they said something to the server, and I pretty much realized what was going on … they were getting us a drink. It was all cool. They bought us a round, got up and were on their way. We’ve decided that this must be par for the course. Romans are friendly people, I suppose. At some point we’ll pick out a young couple near us and freak them out in a similar fashion.
The band was quite good. It’s always interesting to me that the accent goes away when a singer performs in a second language.
Spent the rest of the day exploring the Roman ruins. The line that kept rambling around in my head was “look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.” On the other hand, this is the bones of a culture that ruled the known world for a thousand years. As they started to go downhill, they did crap like kidnap hippos from the Nile and force them to fight for the amusement of the upper class. Thank goodness we would never do anything like that in our current enlightened empire.
Our feet hurt from walking, like, a dozen miles.
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