Dave’s Ramblings – Atalanta – Diary 2
Well, it’s day number 2 in sunny Bergamo, a phrase I’m using with optimism rather than meteorological accuracy, and it’s match day! Which can only mean one thing: time to trek off to whatever random hotel the club has mysteriously selected as the Official Ticket Distribution Centre.
To this day, I still have no idea why they insist on dragging us halfway across the city to collect tickets like we’re contestants in some football-themed scavenger hunt. I mean, in Azerbaijan most people didn’t even have to bother. Tickets just appeared on our phones like magic. But here? Nope. ‘Please proceed to an undisclosed location, via three buses, two cobblestones, and a hill steep enough to cause emotional damage.’
But hey ho, off we trot. There will definitely be a breakfast stop along the way, which, regardless of the actual time, has a strong chance of becoming a liquid one. Because nothing says match day preparation quite like a pint or two before noon and the vague sense that you’ve lost control of your life.
Being the clever, resourceful, and mildly desperate for wineindividuals that we are, we strolled into the supermarket with the confidence of people who fully expected to leave with alcohol. Sadly, the universe (and some very enthusiastic rule-maker) had declared it a ‘No Alcohol Day’, unless, of course, you were eating. Because nothing says “responsible drinking” like sneaking pints behind a sandwich.
But fear not! With four of us present, and a collective IQ powered almost entirely by the desire for beer, we engineered a master plan:
At 1 o’clock, one brave soul would nobly sacrifice themselves to “eat” something and order four beers.
At 2 o’clock, another hero would step up for the “meal” and again order four beers.
Then again at 3.
And again at 4.
Like a relay team, but instead of batons we would pass around increasingly unnecessary snacks.
We soon learned that all you really need to do is hop on the funicular to the old town, where bars multiply like rabbits and beer practically flows from the taps in a continuous, sparkly stream. Naturally, we heroically dedicated the entire afternoon to “research.” Cheers to cultural immersion! 🍻
In all seriousness, the old town is beautiful, charming, unmistakably old (shocking, I know), and absolutely worth the visit. It’s the kind of place that makes you want to stroll slowly, take it all in, and pretend you’re starring in a very cultured travel documentary.
Pre-match we went for an Indian, as you would when in Italy! An unusual feature, well certainly for me, was to see the food brought out by a robot. I’m not sure if he/she had cooked it, but it was delicious. The food, not the robot!
I’d like to clarify that my days do not revolve around alcohol… although, admittedly, it does occasionally look suspicious. What I will say is that we discovered a supermarket just a stone’s throw from our apartment, close enough that even I couldn’t miss it, which conveniently sold us bottles of wine. Apparently some Italian supermarkets operate on the principle of, “Rules? We’ve heard of them. But will happily ignore them when Dave needs a drink!”
And honestly? Long live these glorious, rule-optional establishments! 🍷🏆
Dave M
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