Italy has a beer festival, yes it's true.
However, before that I was conned by an African selling me some dodgy wristband. The problem was my Italian must have been better than his and he didn't respond to my questioning and just persisted with his hand cupping. I gave him some shrapnel and fobbed him off - my little bit for charity.
So to the main event. I stumped up my cash and was presented with a beer glass and a yellow pocket holder to hang round my neck. With that I marched in and was greeted with a whiff of beer in a delightful setting of a sports hall. Isn't that where all beer festivals are held?
I sampled as many beers as my ten tokens would allow (which funnily enough was 10) and during which had several successful conversations in Italian with the various purveyors, including a chap who genuinly was interested in exporting his beer to England (I have his card) and a man with a rather distunguished curly moustache. I was complemented on my Italian which came as a bit of a shock especially as I was struggling to string a few words together, but then the miracles of beer happened and soon as was regailing the young ladies with my stories of made up nonsense.
OK so a fair bit of blagging must have gone on but I was dashed pleased with myself. And perhaps a little tipsy.
The next appointment after the festival was the relatively nearby San Siro stadium. It turned out to be in the arse end of nowhere, as most fooball stadia are I suppose. Unfortunately Milan weren't playing that weekend (and I wasn't going to pay to see Mourinho's lot) but I got to see the stadium nonetheless. And it's big. And concretey.
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