Squeezin' the Juice

One nice thing about Italian breakfast, or the lack thereof is Spremuta. It is fresh squeezed orange juice available at a very not gourmet price. The rest of Italian breakfast is lacking to say the least. I've been losing weight consistently even though I eat gelato, pizza and drink beer practically everyday. I would chalk it up to the fact that I haven't been eating breakfast, but I have been. I'll let you in on a secret. The McDonald's at Termini is your friend. Yes hungry traveler, you with almost no money and a hankering for an egg sandwich. Buy one at the Mickey D's at Termini train station. The wrapper even says that they use free range eggs. I don't know if I believe this or not, but when I was commuting every morning into Rome, I found this little sentence to be vindicating. (Justin just reached into his dirty pant pocket and asked me if I wanted a peanut. ) I must really be losing weight. I hope it's not AIDS.
I could however chalk the weight loss up to the the fact that I had been climbing up a mountain every night to get home, a journey that roughly averaged twenty minutes up hill or 10 minutes down. Most nights the journey could stretch to an hour or more if Justin would meet me at the Porchetta stand. This place was my oasis in Marino, a dead roasted pig with herb sandwich and a glass of some of the shittiest red wine around, refrigerated to such a degree that one didn't notice the flavor, all for three euros. One glass of wine easily turned to two, and eventually it led Justin and I to Finnegan's Pub. Marino's most intimate watering hole, where we would eventually become local celebrities. But that is another story...