from summer to snow storm

Last weekend the meteorologists all agreed that some freak weather was heading for Italy, still I was still pretty surprised when we suddenly found ourself in the middle of a snow storm. We left Rome and it was cold for italians but still well hot for Jakob who just arrived from Denmark.

We were going to Le Marche to show him a bit around during the weekend. With a short stop at this this highly recommendable restaurant on the way (it would be perfect if it wasn't for at exceptional bad taste in music, and the sub woofer which delivered it). The food was great, but we were all very tired, and the music was a bit to much gangster rap for my taste. The restaurant is famous because the cook is has been working with one of the great chefs of Italy called Gualtiero Marchesi

Saturday we ate way too much breakfast and decided to skip lunch and go for a walk in the Sibillini mountains (These mountains is supposedly full of magic, if nothing else, then a magical beauty. They are named after a famous witch.)
On the way up there it started snowing, which we thought was funny, and we got out to have a camera drawing competition.

On the way down it got quite exciting, since going down a mountain is pretty exciting, but adding snowstorm, and summer tires, it was quite an experience.



Jakob did at great job, even though it was his first half hour ever behind the wheel of our car ever.

That night we went out to dinner, in a very famous serene Abbey "Abbazia di Fiastra". where we ran into a meting for the local fraction of the political party, of which Prodi was the leader until recently. He was not there even if I have tried to convince everybody since we were there. But we had quite a fun time, the food wasn't great and the waiter, was in a hurry (in lack of better words). It was understandable that the waiters was busy since, that restaurant was packed. But even in a very busy period there is things that a waiter shouldn't do. Like learning across Jakob and me, while we were eating, to take away the girls plates, and arrived with new plates for the next course, while I was still eating (slow eater I know). I think that he got the hint when I lifted the plate I was eating from and asked him to put in under that one.

The night ended perfect in the local Irish pub "Sticky fingers", were they serve one (or several) of the best Guinness I have tasted in Italy.

Sunday, we had a great lunch, with lasagne and goat heads. The last Guinness was severed rather late the night before, and we sadly wasn't really the company which a lunch like the one Sara's mum served deserved. We were pretty tired, but the Lasagne was perfect, and also the goat head was pretty good, even though I cant say that I ate much of the poor animal.