I have come back from the far-off country and, let me tell you, it’s so good to be back home.

The place was seedy, down at heel, past its best, strange and not strange.  I was in a hotel on the beach and so, looking from the balcony, you could have been in southern Spain.  But turn away from the beach and you knew that you were somewhere else.

Walking from the hotel, the blocks of flats were separated from each other, not joined as they are in Milan.  There was a sense of being in suburbia, not in the heart of the second biggest city in the country.  There were many tree-lined ‘avenues’ with the individual blocks of flats with some shops or offices under them, but hidden, with no real signage to entice you in.

The flats were old.  Not so old, but unkempt.  Many looked empty but were not.  The shopping streets reminded me of Sparkhill, in Birmingham – once they had been nice and respectable, but now they were scruffy, down at heel, faded, as if the people had just not really bothered.  As if they were going to be there only temporarily.  As if they were to busy with other things to concern themselves with how the place looked.

And the shopping streets were, well, also a little like Sparkhill.  Again, as if, at one time, the shops had been nice, full of expensive, beautiful items, but now, like somewhere that would be selling everything for £1.

And then the restaurants.  I would not have chosen any of them to eat in, had I been on my own.  Varnish peeling from the window sills, a look of a transport café from the outside – generally, unwelcoming.  But, once inside quite nice.  And the food was very good, although too much and too heavy.  It reminded me of English food – and I find that, now, this food is just too rich, too much fat.  I felt constantly bloated.  I felt that I just wanted a small salad – no dressing, no extras.  However, it was very tasty and well prepared and, with the exception of some meats, a good selection was available.

The people – well I’ve always quite liked them -“ but only in small doses.  It’s this unwritten (but often said) thing about them being slightly better than anyone else, being ‘God’s gift’.  And so much hatred and bile they store up. Really, too much.

The weather was not bad.  Similar temperatures to Milan, but breezy.  And then, in the evening, like the UK, with the breeze, too cold to be pleasant.

I took a couple of pictures and will try to put them up over the weekend.  I didn’t feel in danger, but thought it wise not to be taking pictures everywhere that I went, hence the dearth of photographs.  Maybe next time?