Notes from the road - Southern Italy, July 13, 2013.
Ah, the glorious clusterfuck that is Italy. The place is not unlike New Orleans in that a mostly carefree populous party among the ruins of their fragrantly crumbling past. When people hear I am coming here to tour, they envision me perhaps sipping a glass of homemade chianti under a lyrical olive tree in the shadows of an ancient roman aqueduct. Merde! It's all sleep deprivation, long drives, crappy hotel rooms, and truck stop dining. Although the food at Italian truck stops is better than the food at most American restaurants. The clock here is, at best, a suggestion. If we're late for soundcheck, then we've likely made it there at exactly the right time. An 8:00 show might go off at 10. Or 11. But don't worry about that, signore. Now we eat!