Thursday, April 5. Leaving HK was accosted by one of a pair of orthodox Jews on their way back to Israel via Moscow. They had come a day late for their flight through some misunderstanding. He: 'Are you a Jew?' (I guess it was the hat); me: 'No, but I have great respect for the Jewish faith'. He makes prayerful gestures. The general gist was that he thought I could either persuade the booking clerk to waive the fee, or else if I stood around in the background the clerk would not take advantage of him. Touching faith. I think I persuaded him of the good faith of all concerned, but didn't see him again.
Flight to Milan passed in 5 minute sleeps. Watched The Artist from 3 rows in front. 'Wonder was not that it was done well...' From Milan airport the train passed through endless industrial wasteland - if there was a nice part of the city, we didn't see it. Central station a fascist masterpiece modelled on the Baths of Caracalla or something. Much SPQR, wolves suckling children, eagles, etc etc. Everywhere young women with raven hair, ivory complexions, and distinguished noses. L very shirty when a beggar woman seized our cases and lifted them onto the train, but I was just as pleased to do without the task and pay 5 euros. Across the flood plain of the Po till Bologna, dead flat fields, newly tilled or with first flush of green, farmhouses of Roman type, many derelict. Not an animal in sight, nor for the most part at all during our stay in Italy, except for dogs (omnipresent) and a cat or two. X says there are wild boar, and porcupine quills are found in their garden from time to time, but none of either while we were there. Later formed theory that number of dogs inversely correlated with prevalence of piercings.
After Bologna mostly one long tunnel till Florence. Met by S with T in stroller, who led us through many streets to the bus. Passed baptistry and duomo - exteriors all panelled in green and white marble (is the green serpentine? - I don't know) with some rusty-coloured ceramic inserts forcefully reminiscent of Strawberry Hill Gothic. Is that where the style comes from - not sure of the relative chronology, since the facade of the duomo as a whole is not original. Pavements narrow, traffic heavy. Longish bus ride  to where S, X and T have their apartment in an old convent; downstairs is the church of San Martino a Mensola, 9th century. Tile floors, high ceilings, views of cypresses, olives, high distant hills. Drank beer and feasted on fresh broad beans and pecorino. Later S made risi e bisi. Started to feel crushing fatigue but stayed awake long enough to make hot cross bun dough for the morrow.