I was rudely awakened at 4:20 AM by a drunk Italian yelling at the random man in her bed “ACCENDI MY FRIEND. MY FRIEND WHERE IS YOUR BED. THIS IS MY BED. ACCENDI MY FRIEND (giggles) MY FRIEND WHERE IS YOUR BED (giggles) and he’s sitting upright in her bed, saying nothing; her boyfriend wonders aloud if he’s deaf. By now I’m giggling, and attempting to go back to sleep would be useless. So I get an early start for the day. At 5am the sky is already turning blue, and the 6am streets are a disaster on a Saturday; the cleaning crews are out, and some runners, and the party-people heading home.
I rode the double-decker bus to Brixton and had a coffee and a croissant while I waited for the Market to open at 8. I wandered about for some hours, but didn’t have much energy thanks to the night’s interruptions.
Back at the hostel after attempting to nap, the Italian is just waking up and wants to know what is this “avocado” that I have in my hand. Her name is Rasha and her boyfriend (soon to be husband) is Fabrizio. We spoke in broken English/Italian for an hour or so, and I’m welcome (urged to come!) to their home in Rome any time 🙂
