Per diem

FACT: I am a natural Roman driver. With two of my colleagues squeezed in with me in my tiny, two-door manual Fiat, I zipped thru the streets like I was raised here. Double-parking. Grumpy taxi drivers. Random car doors or pedestrians or mopeds or open roadway with no lanes … no sweat!

My passengers only gasped and shrieked a few times. Meanwhile, I’m like, “This is nothing. It’s like Afghanistan. This is nothing.”

Also, FACT: I could easily use every cent of my per diem in gelato alone. I won’t. But oh man, I could. This one was walnut and pistachio.

“Is there a pigeon on my head again? I think there’s a pigeon on my head again.”
Roman ruins!

As we snapped a pic with my selfie stick in front of St. Peter’s Basilica, three salesmen came up to me and asked me if I wanted to buy another selfie stick. I denied them three times. But no rooster crowed, so no guilt.

Not my picture, but found it while Googling some information today. This may be the personification of the River Nile and his children, but I think it’s maybe how Martin feels whenever I’m away.