They're Trying to Make Me Go To Rehab and I Say 'Yes, Yes, Yes...'

The Monday brought a really emotional goodbye at the train station in Brescia. There were tears and vows to come back as soon as I could manage. In all the kerfuffle I forgot to stamp my train ticket. Now for those of you that don't know, the yellow boxes scattered all over Italian train stations are so you can validate your ticket for the journey you're taking - if not you could use your ticket again and again and that tends to be... frowned upon, let's say... They come down really heavily on people that do this - to the tune of 50Eur.

I remembered just as I was pulling out of the station.

Oh.

When the guard came along the train I was ready to pay. It was my mistake and I should have known better. I hand him my ticket. He speaks to me in French. I speak to him in French - though what I need right now isn't a chance to brush up on things I learnt at A level, but I ran with it. He realises I'm not French and tries again in English. I tell him I'm very sorry. He smiles apologetically and validates it for me. 'Don't do it again' he says. I could have kissed him.

The rest of the [very long] journey passed without incident. I arrived in Sanremo that afternoon and met up with Kitty outside Grom - the world's BEST ice cream parlour. (This won't be the first time we'll hear about Grom.)

I also ran into my old Sanremo roommate outside another ice cream parlour and we all traipsed to the bus station to get up to Baiardo. You can see Sanremo from Baiardo, but it takes an hour to get there because, let's be honest, you're scaling a mountain.

We got there early evening and it was beyond belief. It clings to the top of a hill and to your left is Italy, to your right is France. It is quite simply wonderful. Cars are a joke there, so there is no roar of Alfas or Fiats, the population is getting on a bit and so the pace of life is slow. I don't know why rockstars and filmstars don't go there for rehab, because it would be the perfect place.