Fratelli Italia!

In the beginning was a word and the word was terrifying. Dear God, if I ever have to go through one of those tunnels again....

Arriving in Italy necessitates at least one instance of blasphemy, so I'm pleased I got that out of the way. Here we are in Domodossola, which by the way is a great name for a town. I'm in an absolutely fantastic hotel and there doesn't appear to be anyone else in it. The upshot is that the hosts are truly attentive, perhaps too much so. Precious is still excited about her climb but frankly, between me and you, it was an extremely nervous 6 hours. 5 hours 45 going up and about 15 minutes coming down. Ye gods, I was expecting the legs to turn to jelly but not through vertigo. I'll be honest, I've been up higher mountains and never once felt that I'd fall off the edge. You can't go 50 yards without a twitching arse. I am not kidding, and that was at about two kilometres an hour. Imagine it at 40, that's the bit you're supposed to enjoy. You can test your brakes as much as you like, that isn't going to make you feel any better until they truly are put to the test. Stopping in Istella was supposed to be for a celebratory coffee, the twitching didn't stop until the third grappa. Precious, obviously, was tugging at the lead for another go, the nutter. The photo is Precious gazing wistfully back down the hill. Enough of that and back to proper stuff. Switzerland had been French, at least as far as Sion and then, in a trice she became German and all the niceties that involves. Don't get me wrong, I can order the wrong thing in any language you care to choose. I would just rather not to have to sound bitte(r) when trying to be polite.

Anyway, it's downstairs to join the hosts on the terrace and sip a coffee. The view is also admirable, what with it being the Alps and that. I shall gaze up at them and thank the lord that I'm not going up another in the near future. Onward into Italy. That reminds me, if you ever get the chance, buy some loose veg in an Italian supermarket, explain that you don't know Italian in your best French/German and watch the cashier miming how to weigh fruit. Tres amusing.