A man's got to do what a man's got to do
I had promised that I would let you know how my family rugby weekend went. A promise is a promise so here I am recounting the adventures of the Maiello family in extremely cold but very charming Edinburgh.
A rugby match is always a very peculiar experience for people used to the violent and full of hatred football environment.
Lots of families, lots of little children, colorful fans eager to familiarize with each other and a joyful sun made up a very pretty picture.
Our seats were pretty close to the players entrance so we had a chance to see the teams busses come in properly escorted by bagpipes bands. After reviewing a very healthy parade of powerful players the first revelation of the weekend came my way and I am very much willing to share it with you.
Nowadays you can as well wear a skirt but if you are clean shaven you definitely cannot consider yourself a real man. Food for thougth my faithful male readers.
The match was not so very different than others that I have watched Italy play in the Six Nations tournement, but my brother was there for the first time and with the innocence of the football fan, after about 25 minutes he declared "but if it goes on like this do we have to stay also for the second half?". What an amateaur! One suffers till the end in this kind of things. Anyway we reached the absolute bottom about 20 minutes to the end when the very noisy Scottish mommy behind us started to support Italy.
Back to the apartment on Saturday at 5PM, for my father the interesting part of the weekend was more or less over, but we still had about two days in our hands. What to do next?
Trying the local food specialities was of course a safe bet, so to that purpose we ordered Indian food, very tasty!
On Sunday my mother made a couple of attempts to direct the party to a Catholic church, without success, and I felt obliged to comfort her by pointing out that since she already goes to church everyday (instead of the obligatory Sunday only) she definitely has some credit built up.
I had a mild desire to visit the literature museum, which also did not work out so we finally landed to the famous tomb of the dog Bobby, which came to fame because of the extreme loyalty to his dead master. Bobby spent something like 15years waking on his master grave. It is kind of sad that to find examples of great loyalty one needs to retort to the animal world.
The day was closed with a pub gig of folklore music and me taking the chance at one of the local gins, which proved to be a very good choice, for many reasons.
The Edinburgh Castle and the Royal Mile, also duly visited, gave me the occasion to buy something for the kids so that on Monday I had nothing more to do than walk around, enjoy the cold sun and get back to the airport.
Toasting on my father's birthday on Monday lunch he solemnly declared that this was one of the best birthdays of this life, which of course filled us with pride! That's what we were there for.
A rugby match is always a very peculiar experience for people used to the violent and full of hatred football environment.
Lots of families, lots of little children, colorful fans eager to familiarize with each other and a joyful sun made up a very pretty picture.
Our seats were pretty close to the players entrance so we had a chance to see the teams busses come in properly escorted by bagpipes bands. After reviewing a very healthy parade of powerful players the first revelation of the weekend came my way and I am very much willing to share it with you.
Nowadays you can as well wear a skirt but if you are clean shaven you definitely cannot consider yourself a real man. Food for thougth my faithful male readers.
The match was not so very different than others that I have watched Italy play in the Six Nations tournement, but my brother was there for the first time and with the innocence of the football fan, after about 25 minutes he declared "but if it goes on like this do we have to stay also for the second half?". What an amateaur! One suffers till the end in this kind of things. Anyway we reached the absolute bottom about 20 minutes to the end when the very noisy Scottish mommy behind us started to support Italy.
Back to the apartment on Saturday at 5PM, for my father the interesting part of the weekend was more or less over, but we still had about two days in our hands. What to do next?
Trying the local food specialities was of course a safe bet, so to that purpose we ordered Indian food, very tasty!
On Sunday my mother made a couple of attempts to direct the party to a Catholic church, without success, and I felt obliged to comfort her by pointing out that since she already goes to church everyday (instead of the obligatory Sunday only) she definitely has some credit built up.
I had a mild desire to visit the literature museum, which also did not work out so we finally landed to the famous tomb of the dog Bobby, which came to fame because of the extreme loyalty to his dead master. Bobby spent something like 15years waking on his master grave. It is kind of sad that to find examples of great loyalty one needs to retort to the animal world.
The day was closed with a pub gig of folklore music and me taking the chance at one of the local gins, which proved to be a very good choice, for many reasons.
The Edinburgh Castle and the Royal Mile, also duly visited, gave me the occasion to buy something for the kids so that on Monday I had nothing more to do than walk around, enjoy the cold sun and get back to the airport.
Toasting on my father's birthday on Monday lunch he solemnly declared that this was one of the best birthdays of this life, which of course filled us with pride! That's what we were there for.
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