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Padova Lisa escorted us to the bike shop to get our bikes overhauled. The old grizzled mechanic looked mine over, tightened the crank that had been loose for the last two thousand kilometers or so, and declared it fit for travel. Sharon's headset was loose and needed to have the bearings replaced. She had to leave her bike: he wouldn't have it finished until the next day. Lisa took us to an ice cream shop and Sherry bought us each a three scooper. "Hey, Sherry, maybe you're not so bad after all," I said, giving my cone a lick. "Shuddup." And I was trying so hard to like her. We walked around Padova looking at the sights. It was beautiful, steeped in history. Saint Anthony's basilica was marvellous. Sherry particularly enjoyed the markets. She purchased a leather knapsack for herself and one for her sister. We reserved our ferry tickets. We were scheduled to depart from Venice to Patras, Greece in five days. Sherry was less fortunate. Her bike was creating major hassles. It looked as if her train ride may be a long one. She would have plenty of time to sleep in Pegnitz once she arrived, so it wasn't a big deal. We only had to convince Sherry of that! Her fingernails were taking a beating. She had chewed them right down to the quik. On the way back to Patricia's we stopped to say hello to a couple of Canadians living in Padova for a year. They had two huge Canadian flags draped over their balcony celebrating the outcome of the Quebec referendum. Even though they were Quebecer's from Montreal they were dead set against separation. They spoke French, English, Italian and Spanish and were teaching English at one of the language schools. Patricia spoiled us with another gourmet meal, smashing Italian wine and liberal doses of friendly conversation. Her talented culinary skills were impressive and I was an appreciative gustatory guest. More meat! |
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