Signs Along the Way

There's something about signs as I travel. it's just not the language. The imagery, the way a sign is displayed; all remind me that I'm in a far away place.

Such as the blue-eyed optometrist in Naples. The eyes followed me as I continued down the street.

Street signs reflect my navigation skills too frequently to be a coincidence. This one in Florence, which left me wondering if I had wandered into the pages of Dante's Inferno - entirely fitting, as I was walking the streets of Dante's Florence, the beloved city he never saw again his banishment.

I have no idea what this restaurant is advertising, but I feel should I wander in. I’d discover a world where, after a day of battle, samurai sit and, in between sips of sake redolent of apricot blossom, write haiku.

Italy has some of the best signs. Of course a sinistra means 'to the left', but I think it works best at face value. The ramp leads little to the imagination - and then there’s one at the bottom of a very steep street (which fortunately I came across after walking down from San Miniato, not up):

Some signs offer philosophical advice. I'm glad Godzilla has finally found the peace he deserves. Like all monsters, he is merely misunderstood.

A few more philosophical ones, a few which I simply don’t understand (and these two were in Melbourne, so Google translate can’t be blamed!)

Finally, the sign for a local supermarket, which I truely wish was my local:

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