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About Turin

Me, I’ve seen it all—worked the apps like a queen on her throne, judgin’ the rabble. This one time, right, matched with a git who said he’s “adventurous”—turns out he meant shaggin’ in a tent with no Wi-Fi. Piss off, mate! I was ragin’, legit wanted to burn his shitty campsite down. But then—ha!—there’s this other lad, proper fit, sent me a vid of him jugglin’ oranges shirtless. I was like, “Well, bugger me, that’s talent!” Made me grin, rare as that is. Sex-dating’s a roulette wheel, spin it and pray you don’t land on a twat.

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I’m like, “What market?” Turns out, it’s the weekly mercato on Piazza Garibaldi. I chug my coffee and sprint over. I’m dodging people left and right, feeling like I’m in some crazy obstacle course.

Udine: the new walks with Elena Commessatti in the heart of the city