Following on from ace trips to Paris and Austria it seemed logical to explore the other delights that mainland Europe could offer. A sketchy invite to an Italian industry shindig last November put the wheels in motion for our latest trip to Italy but it's safe to say that the subsequent tour planning wasn't plain sailing. The original invite fell through but by that time we'd made friends with Italian band Tiny Tide through myspace and decided to string some dates together. This led to endless days compiling lists of venues, contacts and agents and fruitless attempts to communicate with said people with a mixture of chirpy English and pidgin Italian. The less results I got, the more fervently I pestered and cajoled but it seemed to me after three months of trying that Italy was a closed shop. So, thank goodness for the tireless optimism via myspace of Mark from Tiny Tide who sorted out our first show and to Max at Mattatoio who took a punt on us and offered us a subsequent gig. The plans were set.
When we set off for Pisa on the afternoon before Valentines day I still wasn't quite sure what lay in store for us and had the niggling frustration that still hung around of having only 2 dates booked with 2 days inbetween. (I needn't have worried - by Valentines night those fears had evaporated and we were all grinning like loons, but more of that to come).
The designers at Pisa airport obviously had a thing for pigeons. Sculptures of the little blighters were immortalised in plaster, stone and wood all around the terminal building, flapping their alabaster wings in frozen flight and fixing us with beady eyes as we waited, and waited and waited for a taxi which never seemed to arrive. Finally we got a ride, and surprisingly the driver didn't bat an eyelid at our hefty baggage, guitars and drum paraphanelia, unlike in Paris when the drivers took one look at our garb and worldly goods and drove off into the distance with a shrug and gallic snort. (Our subsequent dealings with Italian taxi-drivers over the next few days were overwhelmingly excellent. One in Modena was reading Dostyovsky's Crime and Punishment and another joked with us in perfect English about the excellent free B&B facilities as we drove past the local jail). Pisa seemed like a nice city from what we saw, small, clean and with the great big leaning tower - more imposing and awesome than I'd imagined from photos and books and dramatic in the moonlight. We found a good local Pizza restaurant, attempted our first Italian words and drank lots of nice Italian wine.... all a good introduction to the next day.
(Martin took some ace pics which we'll hopefully upload soon, these are three crumby pics from my cameraphone)
Our hotel in Pisa was right by the station and it was so straightforward to buy tickets to Cesena. The Italian train system worked for us really well, it was cheap, efficient and no-nonsense. Our Italian friends grumbled about the old rolling-stock and delays but compared to our creaking, vastly overpriced UK rail network it was a joy. We got to Cesena, hung round for a bit, got cold and then went to Lego which was down a pretty cobbled sidestreet. I think I pretty much knew the rest of our time in Italy would be great from the first half hour of being in Lego. It was a lovely friendly place, Ettore the owner welcomed us warmly, gave us directions to the hotel and told us when to come back for soundcheck, after which he cooked us delicious pasta and supplied copious amounts of booze. I really enjoyed the gig - it was a very simple, small set up but the place was packed for Valentines day and we had a ball. By this time we'd said our hellos to Tiny Tide and co, watched their support set and sussed out that they were top blokes. They were our guides and friends for the next couple of days and their kindness and generosity knew no bounds.
We based ourselves in Cesena for the next couple of days, explored the city and had daytrips to Rimini/Bologna. It was a break and thoroughly enjoyed. One thing that struck me was that Italian lunchtimes are a big deal. Rimini was like a ghost town on Saturday at 2pm. We sat and had coffee in one of the squares and there was a sleepy hush about the place but when the clock struck 3.30 people came streaming out onto the streets, the shopped opened and by 4pm the place was packed. It was quite lovely. Saturday night we were taken out to dinner by our Italian friends and then onto a great club about half an hour out of Cesena.
Sunday morning we gathered ourselves together, ate more bread-based products for breakfast (by this point I'd not eaten a fruit or vegetable for four days, apart from a sugar glazed strawberry on top of a pastry) and we got the train to Carpi, via Bologna and Modena. I didn't know much about the venue Mattatoio at this point, just instructions to a hotel and we'd work the rest out when we got there. The hotel was amazing - brand new, luxurious and with wonderfully friendly staff who rustled up some delightful bread-based products for us to eat on arrival. Rested and happy we got a taxi to the venue for early soundcheck and stage time of 8pm which seemed oddly early. Again, I needn't have fretted. The venue was amazing - housed in Carpi's Communist party headquarters, with a great PA and excellent supplied backline. We met up with Tiny Tide who played an ace support set and then by the time we went on at eight the place was really busy. Max, who had booked us explained that everyone went for dinner at 9 so early gigs on Sunday worked well. The gig itself was ace fun, although the pressure was on to put in a good performance it was still exhilarating. The Italian hospitality which up 'til now had been exemplary went into overdrive as we were taken for a slap-up meal and then driven back to the hotel. We made the mistake when back in the hotel lobby of tucking into the Talisker malt whisky that we'd spotted behind the bar and the barman/concierge poured us the most generous measures and insisted on topping up our glasses. We then somehow discovered that each glass was €10 - meaning we'd accumulated an €80 bar bill in the space of half an hour. Yikes.
So, Monday dawned and it was our last day in Italy - time to gather our gear and head to Venice to fly home. The travelling home is usually the worst part..., in our case we were happily stuffed with bread-based products but weary. The train took around three hours with changes and we arrived into the main station with a couple of hours to spare before check-in. I'd been to Venice once before as a student and the memory of it had stayed with me, as a place of incredible light, an unearthly magical city. For some reason though I'd forgotten the entrance from the train station - it was stunning, with steps leading down to one of the main canals, with a beautiful footbridge over the water and the busy hum of a city alive. I went to one of the waterbus booths and booked what I thought was four waterbus tickets to the airport. We were pointed in the general direction of the right place to catch the bus and so we trudged over the bridge and along the canal with our increasingly heavy baggage only to find that the waterbus didn't seem to exist - only a bus station set back from the canal with thronging crowds all queuing for the airport buses. We headed back to the canal and I approached one of the private water taxis to see how much it would be for us to get to the airport. It was quite a lot but we all had a few Euros left - enough to chip in and it was the best decision we made of the whole trip. With all our luggage and guitars precariously loaded onboard we were motoring through the centre of Venice on our very own speedboat as the sun was setting on the city and as soon as the boat left the city limits were were roaring across the open water to the airport. Simply breathtaking.
In conclusion.... an amazing few days. A much-needed boost for us as a band and also a time for reflection and gathering pace for the coming year. We love playing live and travelling together and are really hungry for more experiences like this.
