Final Mediterranean nuggets

• Italian women: absolutely brazen and incorrigible. They would stare at me with the intensity of industrial lasers, daring me to glance in their direction, undressing me with their eyes. Then, of course, they would hurriedly re-dress me with their eyes. I would be optically attired with such panicked regret that I'd end up with mismatched socks, boxers on backward, etc., which is really the most annoying part of the whole deal.
• I was shocked and appalled at Zidane's soiling of the beautiful game. Sorry, wait-- I was 100% behind it. If an Italian man pinches your nipple and insults your dying mother, action must be taken (I think we can all agree it would be kosher if he first insults your dying mother, then pinches your nipple). I wonder what would have happened to Materazzi's face if Zidane had chosen to go upstairs instead. I suspect Materazzi would now have the imprint of his own face in the back of his head, like Han Solo in carbonite.
• Final days of cycling in the Alps: fan-pooping-tastic. I took the bike on ski lifts straight up the sides of Mont Blanc & other worthy rocks, and biked down single-tracks & dirt roads, losing 5000 feet of elevation. Unreal. Also: ibex sighting. I shot it & made jerky.
• If Tuscans don't start putting salt in their bread, I'm going to have to call in American air strikes. Get on it, people.
• Look, I know one shouldn't look to tourist guidebooks for history, any more than one should look for the best gelato joints in Gibbon. And writing about areas that have gone through recent conflicts certainly must be a politically tricky business. But the Croatia Rough Guide's light touch on Tudjman is pretty ridiculous. "Bull Connor's firm defense of segregation won him few friends in the civil rights community, and his perceived excesses with fire hoses and fierce attack dogs led some to regard him with disapproval; however, many ordinary Americans revered Connor for his sincere stance on a tough issue."
• Viva grappa; viva limoncello; viva, I say.