The View from the Boat

Obsessed with helping me feel at home, the Mother introduced me to a few more of her friends who had daughters around my age. One, who soon became a close companion, informed me of a local designer shoe store but warned that they are so gorgeous I would not be able to leave without a pair! That'll help me find my feet :) Over another restaurant dinner we were greeted by the Father's business partner, family & their Australian Au Pair who hadn't been there long either. She was fun, confident & knew much more Italian than me! Thankfully, she appears later in the story too.

With weekends still being leisure time (school holidays) we make the most of it & set across the waves for Ponza. A beautiful island best viewed from the sea. Little mosaic houses line the 'porto' creating the left overs of an original fishing town, with formations of rocks that create little nooks & crannies, ready to delve in to.

As we sail past the port I teach the children the lyrics to 'Little Boxes', which they pick up with ease but apparently I can't sing?! Hmmmm. The engine stops as we drift in to a little bay & we race into the water with our flippers (not easy to run in!) & snorkels.

A boat full of Italian tourists trails past us at regular intervals, around the Natural Arch & then on to another sight. I feel secretly pleased that in-between these trips we are in solitude (the VIP access) & this is where we remain; making speedboat trips out to explore caves & coves, beaches & bays. We sail from one to the other, roping up & swimming into the warm rock craters, dipping our eye-masks into the water to see millions of colourful tiny fish scattering around, darting in & out of their hiding places. No wonder Nemo got lost!!

We dine at sea, by only the light of the boat & stars above, listening to Lucio Dalla. The table is crowded & we all dive in to plate up, the Buffalo Mozzarella disappears almost instantly & the parents & I pass round a bottle of Lazio red wine.

Once I've tucked the children into their cabin beds, exhausted, I curl up on the deck sofa & fall asleep. The Mother wraps a blanket around me as I have just done with her children & retires to the below deck. The following morning, by gentle rock of the boat & the crisp sea breeze, I open my eyes to the most beautiful view. The view from the boat.

Back on dry land, I carefully open the box lid & glow when I remove the cherry-red, patent heels that fit as though they were made just for me. I slide my feet into them Cinderella style & fasten the straps. The Mother has offered her Ralph Lauren bag with matching deep red buckles for me to venture out for the evening.

The Aussie & I meet at a local Irish pub then head to the Beer Fest tent in the city center. Weaving through the lederhosen dancing around the room & taking in the live band music, smell of Bratwurst, tankards clinking, chatter & laughter... we make our way to the bar. Beer in hand, we locate a bench near the door so we can smoke & start discussing life. I am pleased to find someone who enjoys food, drink & travel as much as I do. We arrange to meet weekly.

I experienced my first tropical storm at 3am. The tear of thunder & flash of lightening had woken me with a fright, making me shoot out of bed to join the Mother on ensuring a full house lock down. I was thankful we were no longer on the boat but it signified the beginning of change...

...Term time!

Early starts, having to dress the children before they were even awake, constant nagging whilst I tried to get them to eat their breakfasts (what ever I had prepared deemed not good enough) before setting off for the walk to school. A walk that should have taken 5/10 minutes... that in reality took half an hour! It's as though they were walking backwards! I know the Italians do not rush things & everything happens 'DOMANI' (tomorrow) but this was taking it to the extreme!

Although a housewife, the Mother was hardly to be seen around the home & they began to rely on me 100% to be there for the children 24/7. To clean on the cleaners' days off, do daily chores, to collect the children from school, cook them lunch, ensure they had completed their homework before play time, take & collect them to & from their activities (with constant arguments & tantrums on not wanting to go, using petrol paid out of my wages), entertain them until dinner, cook them dinner, make sure the house was tidied after them (they couldn't even put their own shoes away!). Ensure they were bathed & ready for bed by 8pm, but then not let them go to bed until 11pm.

It wasn't what I had agreed to... but I had to think about the positives. 

Of which I had only tasted!

You lose. You gain

Weight isn’t the only thing I start to gain... I begin to collect friends, develop my language, the relationship with the children blossoms & I improve my cooking skills (if you can call them that!). I learn how to completely slow down; to lose the haste & order, I relax in to life… start living the Italian way. 

Friends make time to meet even if there's no actual time to meet! Standing, they talk fast between large swoops of coffee, gulp water & before you know it, with a kiss on each cheek they've parted. I quickly learn there's always something to do or someone to see as I am taken here, there & everywhere (shown off really). Family & friends are welcoming & without fail, I am always fed. Quick! Feed the skinny white girl!

An Aunties’ 50^th lake house party reveals an entire garden buffet featuring REAL lasagne (as apposed to the ‘sloppy mess’ we have in England), pasta, pizza, Nutella, pistachio cake. Eventually I manage to escape the feed hungry Aunts by rowing out on to the lake for a few hours with their daughters.

And this is when I discover the family I live with have a yacht! 

As though my every wish is answered, 2 days later we are packing our belongings & collecting Marquises' famous Buffalo Mozzarella on route to the vessel.

We set sail to Ventotene, a small island off the coast of Latina.

With the bay nearing, Captain Italian Dad switches off the engine & releases the anchor. I peep over the edge like an excited school girl & stare into the crystal like water to see the seabed miles beneath us, clear as day. I can’t wait to get in! The children position the dresserelle ready for us to dive bomb, disturbing the sea life below but I am soon given the snorkel & flippers & assigned to jelly fish watch instead.

As wrinkled as old ladies & tired of bobbing in the waters we climb aboard & sprawl across the top deck reading to one another in our native languages until falling asleep...

I forget where I am when we are awoken by a beautiful blue & brown sailing boat tying up to us. A dark tanned belly of a man steps overboard with his home cooked fish pasta in hand, causing the boat to dip; family friends joining us for lunch. He pours his deep red wine & tears the fresh bread ready to share with us. The Buffalo mozzarella is on the table, so is the ricotta, more Nutella, prosciutto, tomatoes, olive oil and plenty of water. A sea feast!

Later we cruise in to the port & zigzag our way from the dock towards the top of the island until we reach a sign. I move its overgrown plants aside to read ‘'il gardinio De ventotane'. The garden of Ventotane... We walk inside to a beautiful al fresco dining area full of tables, overgrown vines wrapping themselves around pergolas drooping over the diners as their chatter carries through the 'garden', terra cotta pots growing basil & thyme line the perimeter. Coupled with a view of the horizon & the faint sound of waves in the distance this place is a taste of paradise. Only to be backed up by its understanding of local food. I start with Parmigana, follow with the catch of the day, Monk Fish & finish by sharing a mouth-watering chocolate pudding which oozes when I dip my spoon in to it. I swill around the rest of my wine before I walk the children back to the boat. On the way we stop to watch a group of locals dancing in the piazza...

I could grow used to the casual ways, as though suspended in time, no restrictions or cut off points, just enjoying the gentle rock of living, like being on the boat.

As we sail away in the morning I position myself at the bow, feet dangling either side. A pang of regret, loss overcomes me & I beg the paradise island to let me return one day (in a Jack from Lost kind of way!).

I glance at my wet feet as I turn my head towards the direction we’re headed & spot a school of Dolphins weaving through each other at the tip of the boat, playfully jumping as though trying to nose-but my tootsies.

No wonder Italians enjoy life so much! 

Settling in. Filling out

And so, I continued to eat.

EVERYTHING was now focused around food. Something as simple as walking down the street led me to discover the curred ham hanging above the local deli counters, & sniffing out the freshly baked bread from the shop on the corner of our street. Even Maria leaning out of her Cafe door, long cigarette in hand, encouraged the swirls of Caffeine & cigarette smoke to drift towards me, & food shopping was a whole journey in itself, with aisles upon aisles dedicated to Pasta. I'd only ever cooked with Penne, Fusilli & Spaghetti! I had a lot of research to do.

And then there's Pizza.

The BEST Pizza in Latina is served at 'Pizzeria Da Gennaro' & of course I am taken there by the Mother & Children, who have been talking about the restaurant since I arrived (Absence of their Father was the norm). With chequered table cloths & rustic white chairs crammed into every inch of the 4 walls it's no surprise we have to hustle for a seat. Probably still warm from the last person sitting in it.

The waiter dances between diners to find a small, empty table at the back for us. He pulls out the chairs & whips a bottle of still & sparking water from behind his back, as if by magic, along with 3 tumblers. Before he can speak the Mother flicks her hand in the air muttering rushed Italian.

The waiter looks at me, then back to her followed by a nod.

5 minutes later a platter of Pizzella is slotted in the middle of the table for us to share. Fried Pizza dough balls with Tomato sauce & Parmesan to be followed by a main course of Pizza. So basically carbs followed by more carbs. Start as you mean to go on!

I turn to thank him but he is now delivering something else to another table, leaving me mezmorized by a larger than life wood burner in the corner of the room, in front of it the Chef is juggling a ball of dough in each hand. The same dough, topped with Zucchini & Anchovy, that the waiter announces is 'For the Inglese' when he serves it to us minutes later. WOW! I eat it in less time than it took to prepare.

The whole experience is over in less than 30 minutes. Apart from being full, it's like it never happened & I can't help but wish I could eat it all over again.

England feels an absolute lifetime away & the closest thing to it over the next few days is a visit to a small Kebab shop at the top of the street. Stuffed with their homemade Chilli sauce & Chips, they label mine 'Engilish'... but I don't feel it.

  

I was changing. Settling in... & filling out!

The Appetite comes while you are Eating

'Have you had sufficient?!' I looked up at my Granddad not quite understanding what he had asked. As a child he'd spell out new words as he passed me a dictionary to look up the definition myself.

S-U-F-F-I-C-I-E-N-T (enough for a particular purpose/to have eaten enough).

 

Returning home from travelling, I knew I wanted to explore Italy again; learn about their food & culture, but how... I didn't know. Though I needn’t have worried; fate stepped in 3 weeks later when I was invited to work for an Italian family as their live-in English teacher.

I was on a plane & I was going ALONE! I mean, I had never met this family. Mum hadn't even spoken to them!  

Overcome with excitement I danced off the plane, comforted by the humid air wrapping its warmth around me, but just before I reached the arrivals lounge I hesitated. What if I didn't like them?! What if they didn't like me?!

'BRYONY' revealed a sign written in beautiful swirly calligraphy, with delicate patterns around it. Creative. Personalised. The two children clutching it, holding hope in their eyes, stood beside their friendly yet businesslike Father. 'Buongiorno!' (Hello) 'Piacere!' (Pleased to meet you). At this point I literally knew the basic basics of their language & resorted to repeating everything they said back to them!

Making our way to the car I was greeted with a kiss on each cheek by an admirable woman who then turned on her gorgeous red heals to unlock the gigantic boot for my tiny hand luggage size case. Yes - I had learnt how to travel light after Dam!

Latina is just 20 minutes drive South of Rome, close to the coast, full of protected landscape & where, as I was soon to learn, hardly anyone speaks fluent/native English.

Scenic routes through mountains led us in through the centre of the bustling city. Racing past cafes brimming & bubbling with life & laughter, weaving through parked cars, parking cars & cars that clearly did not know what their drivers wanted from them, we finally arrived at the electric gate. With the click of a button the gate opened & we drove down in between the apartment blocks. I stared out of the window in awe of how lovely the apartments looked, illuminated in the evening darkness.

My room was a princess paradise, pink, pink & more pink! With a veranda wrapped around the entire room - as if it had always been expecting me.

I was shown every room, every cupboard & every draw, given the rules of 'our home is now your home, treat it like a home' (Something that was to change later on). But for now I saw a library full of food books & catering magazines that were sure to keep me entertained. 

To kick off my new way life the Father had made reservations at their friends' restaurant, Osteria de Fefe, so we went straight there. Al fresco dining - Yay!

After explaining 'I eat EVERYTHING' they ordered a bottle of Vino Rosso (Red Wine) along with a whopping platter of food for us all to share. Mozzarella in Carrozza (deep fried Mozzarella), Suppli (deep fried Rice with Peas & Tomato), Salami & Speck (cooked Ham) & for mains we each had Spaghetti Carbonara. Mmmmm mmmm!

The family were pleasant; loving towards each other, welcoming to their new addition, testing me on my Italian - or lack of! They looked happy & I was pleased to be around people who loved food as much as me.

Maybe I was hungry before, but I had definitely NOT had sufficient!

Now I was in a local restaurant, absorbing it all; every rolled R, each chink of a wine glass, the twirling of Spaghetti forks & waving of expressive hand gestures. This was Italy & I wasn’t finished.

As the Italians say 'L'appetito vien mangiando' - The appetite comes while you are eating...

.... AND IT DID!

Pari!!!!

My feet first touched French soil years ago, but this time was very different. I was in Paris!

For years, I'd pictured couples kissing in the windows of romantic restaurants, pretty women, their arms full of designer shopping bags, Champagne flowing, plates of classic French cuisine being served, expensive hotel suites with posh cars parked outside, & poetic words being whispered between couples as they walked hand in hand along the famous river Seine.

Well... there's a reason they call it the City of Love, right?!


Of course the above is just every girls dream of Paris. In reality, we arrived by train to find a small, cramped, run down, overpriced hotel... with a cubicle toilet in the same room. Nothing like privacy!

We were hoping that a large glass of Parisian wine, with a side of Olives, from the local wine bar, Vino-TK, would make the city more attractive. It did. It was a bar renowned for its wines & I was loving every sip!

Rising early and leaving Rosie in bed, I walked along the Champs-Élysées staring in all the shop windows as I made my way to the Arch de Triumph, and then to the Eiffel Tower. This is where William and I met. (No, William is not a man I fell in love with or anything like that, before you get ahead of yourselves!) Rosie & I had met William on the train from Florence & he happened to be in Paris at the same time as us and loved food as much as me.



Deciding that taking the lift all the way to the top wouldnt be "doing it properly"... we climbed the entire 669 steps to the second platform and then took the lift to the very top. WOW! What a view!



Champagne!! A well deserved reward. As if I needed an excuse ;)

Good job I'd had a tipple; on the way down I kept freaking myself out... 'What if it collapsed!?' Deep breaths & concentrate on your footing B!

OH DEAR LORD.

With my feet safely on the ground, I knelt down & kissed the floor! No, I didn't really... but I felt like it. Now get me some more Champagne!

On the walk to the Lurve we stopped in a French restaurant & ordered Snails, Beef Tar Tar & French Onion Soup. I was in Paris. I had to try everything French.

I'm glad I did... it was best soup I have ever tried! The way they'd toasted the bread & cheese as a layer on top of the soup base instead of a poncy crouton was enough for me!

Rosie had spent all morning amongst the thousand artworks within the Louvre, so we made a start by heading straight to the Mona Lisa, the Winged Victory & the Wedding Feast, as these were the main peices I wanted to see.

That evening, we wondered around & found Les Galopins Nation, a lovely classic French Brasserie with tables full of locals. We sat outside & I ordred the Foie Gras. Although completely diagreeing with the production of it, I HAD to see what the fuss was all about. Yes, it was worth the moral torture I gave myself for days afterwards.

Thinking that endorsing upon an artwork adventure would cure my guilt, I spent the next day in the Louvre & Musee De L'Orangerie. Yes, you could spend a lifetime in there with its corridor mazes leading you to its beautiful antiques & precious sculptures, and I enjoyed remebering why I loved studying art so much at A level.

That evening we visited Les Galopins Nation again, where I'm pretty sure I tried the best Dijon sauce, with my Rare Steak, and about a gallon of Red Wine!

The next day we visited Montmartre & climed the hill topped with the white domed basilica of Sacre Coeur, trimmed by the Moulin Rouge & famous for it's talented artists lining every inch of the way. This was the part of city that actually looked like the Paris I had imagined. It's an odd looking place full of eccentric people, yet still oozed class. This is where I stopped at Le ConSulaT & found my prince! In the form of a Frog...

We then took a walk back down the hill heading to the Notre Dam as I ate my 4th Nutella Crepe of the day :)

For our last night in Paris we found a typical touristy restaurant near the Eiffel tower (more American than French). I hurried through my Pizza & Icecream so that we could make our way once again to see the beautifully lit tower against the starry night (Yes, that was Van Gogh inspired).

Here, a group of tourists who were looking for a bar invited us to join them. I wasn't too fussed but Rosie liked the fittie model so we joined them. Not being able to find a bar close by, & being tired, I navigated the Metro back to the hotel.

Although I'd had fun, I had much preferred the good old days of boarding the family car & crossing the Channel, driving another 6 hours to find a camp site in the middle of nowhere. Setting up camp for the night & then finding a cosy traditional French restaurant close by, where Mum would give it her best attempt to speak French to everyone she met, whilst more sounding like Del Boy from Only Fools & Horses.

I found my seat on the plane destined for England. How could this city possibly capture my heart?!

Rome already had it. 

Bearing with Me

I haven't blogged for a while so a quick thanks for 'Bearing with Me!'. And this leads me on to the next part of my travels.

Framed by green trees, the glacier river Aare wraps itself around this pocket sized city. It passes the Marzilli-Bad, the Parliament Building, the Einstein Museum, the Munster platform, the Young Boys football ground, the Bear Pits and the Rose Garden. All the things I wanted to see whilst visiting the capital of Switzerland.

Being well known for having housed Bears in the city since 1857 this was my first stop. Although, instead of the concrete Bear Pit I was expecting to see, they have been relocated to an enclosure with green grass, logs and a bathing pool. Complete with a view of Bern!

Quite the little haven compared to the small grey hole they were in previously...

After hours of watching them play around I made my way up to the Rose Garden above.

Most people made their way up the steep hill with no interest apart from the panaramic view over the city, but I was fascinated by the perfectly formed flowers within the grounds; hundreds of them on display! Feeling like a princess in castle gardens, I had to look at every single variety.

'If I were a Rose, which Rose would I be?'.

Sticking with panoramic views, I made my way to the Munster platform. From the top is a sudden drop from which a glass elevator takes tourists to the area below. I stopped here, on the platform, for a tea, a slice of tart (almost too good I forgot to take a photograph before I ate it all!) and read my book whilst taking in the views.

Rosie and I decided we wouldn't be extravagant with food until we reached Paris, so Rosie (being a good cook) made us pasta in the Hostel. Afterwards, we went in search of a roof top bar. Although finding it was an issue it was worth it!

From the bamboo bar we ordered cocktails, walked through the sand and chose to lay on sun loungers, perfectly placed with a sunset view of the Alps. After spending a whole day in the city this was the first time I'd even noticed the snow topped mountains in the distance.

A million miles away from the hot tubs that were bubbling away behind us.

We'd arrived in Bern unaware that the usually sleepy city was full of buskers, all gathered together for the street music festival. With my love for live bands I couldn't sit and relax for long, so we joined the crowds, moving between food stalls to the next performance. 

Some performances were strange... but one band that blew me away were Micha Sportelli. I got their signed album :)

Setting my alarm for 8am, I made my way to the Einstein house and the museum, both just a short walk away from the clock tower on which he based the theory of relativity. Learning about his life's work was incredible. I literally lost track of time. 

Next on the list was the Parliament building, which houses a 214 bulb chandelier. I HAD to see it!

Unfortunately I'd forgotten my passport and couldn't get in, so instead I walked through the archway of the main doors to discover another panoramic view of the city, including a view of the local park area (the Marzili-bad), followed by the river and then the Swiss alps in the far distance. And I came to see a chandelier!?

Every inch of grass along the Mazili-bad was covered with towels, bags, and muscly, Speedo wearing men playing frisbee (I have never understood Speedos!). I found Rosie and got down to my bikini. We sat, chatted and ate ice cream.

We couldn't leave without trying a Swiss tradition. So we decided to take the plunge into the river and allow our selves to be carried past the sights by the rushing water...

...Knee deep, I see a dead mouse floating past and have second thoughts! Maaaaaaaybe not!

Instead, we take the train to Paris. 

And from Hell she found Heaven

Beauty, Renaissance, Culture and Money are all words that spring to mind when envisioning the Italian city of Florence... for most people.

I hated it!

I know I should have been in the majority, swooning over its art and treasures that line every street, very similar to Rome and Venice. I was shocked myself but it really had no positive effect on me at all.

Arriving and locating our hotel down HELL STREET probably didn't help.

Yes, it was literally named 'hell'. Which pretty much predetermined the next two days.

The street was more of an alley way, getting narrower the further you went like something from Alice in Wonderland or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and the ground floors were home to noisy mechanics garages. The hotel was okay, not the worst room, not the best. Basic. A little grotty but it was spacious, which is a big need after being crammed into hostel rooms full of people, packed train journeys, and hot stuffy hotel rooms. The owner was a pleasant helpful little man.

The first night we ate satisfactory food at a place where we literally pointed to things on the menu as the hostess didn't speak any English. I had bruschetta, followed by a tomato based pasta. Not the great Italian dish I had hoped for...

Afterwards, we found a lovely little corner bar with odd bright coloured steel tables and chairs. I was immediately attracted to the place as it was mostly open air and it looked busy with everyone sitting outside. We followed suit and ordered a couple of glasses of their Vino Rosso just as the Canadian couple beside our table had done and chatted with them for hours. The lady had exactly the same music taste as me; singers like Otis Reading and Paulo Nutini and their restrained voices. 'Singing with sorrow' I think she called it.

All the music talk got us in the mood for a dance. Rosie had picked up a brochure for 'Space Club'... Which I must admit looked pretty cool with its fish tank bar and after a couple of bright pink cocktails and some funny photos in the teacup style seats we were on our way to having a good night! We had Italians chatting to us, were taken to the VIP area for Prosecco & nibbles and even took part in a tattoo competition...

 

...Rosie won!

Drunk, and not able to find Rosie, I settled my bar tab and made my way back to the hotel. I'd assumed Rosie had already left. With not knowing where I was I asked a group of guys where the hotel street was and one kindly walked and pointed it out. Finally! (My feet were tired). But he had other ideas... He followed me down the alley and pinned me up against the wall and tried to kiss me. I screamed, yanked away, and desperately tried to call my friend. Luckily I always keep my phone in my hand when I'm on my own. He answered. I ran.

With me hiding in a door way 2 streets away, he stayed on the phone to me until the guy had finally stopped lingering by the hotel door and I was safe. I was about to let myself into the hotel when Rosie came striding down the street, angry that I haven't been answering my phone. The last thing I needed. I walked in with Rosie in tail, text my friend to say thank you and went to bed.

I just wanted to leave the city as soon as we could.

Of course there were positives... we saw a string band who were brilliant, I'd found a Botanical Garden on my lone wonders, and generally every where we walked there was proof of the city's art history... the Ponte di Vecchio (Old Bridge), the Cathedral 'Santa Maria de Fiore' with its beautiful Duomo (dome), the busy street markets, the impressive bakery shop displays, the Boar who's snout you rub to ensure a return to the city, Michelangelo's David, Palazzo Pitti, more Bacio Gelato, and lots more.

                  

 

One thing that had a lasting impression on me (other than the shops being lined with Pinocchio which scared the hell out of me) was the view from the Basilica di San Miniato al Monte. 

 

Starting from the Piazza G. Poggi the walk to the top isn't an easy one but if you go even further, past the panoramic viewpoint of Piazzale Michelangelo designed by architect Giuseppe Poggi, you will find the Church (Basilica di San Miniato al Monte).

 

Hungover, fed up, and worn out I sipped on my refreshing, and well deserved, cup of Strawberry Granita that I'd purchased from a vendor on the climb...

 

...and scanned the dreamy Tuscan country side.

 

Heaven.