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.

The Peace of Return

Was this reality? Was I really on route to the city that had once given me butterflies?!

My first experience in Rome was a lovely weekend spent sight seeing, eating Gelato, and walking for miles on end, and as expected, revisiting, my stomach started to somersault, the smile had re-appeared, and I began to turn into the excited little adventure girl I had been on my last visit.

I walked out of the train station, stood and took a deep breath; consuming all the smells, sights, sounds and tastes. Letting the charm of the city overwhelm me once again.

I was infatuated.

It was fairly late so we literally checked into our hotel and set our sights on the first restaurant we could find. In search of Roman style Pizza, (Roman style is thinner with a crispy base, and Napolitian style is thicker with a softer base...being in Rome, I had to try the first!) we discovered Florian's Café just around the corner. An old guy welcomed with a "Ciao Belli", gestured to the seating inside or out, and carried on clicking and clanking the Espresso machine. We took a table outside as the weather was far from that in Berlin. And yes, I ordered the Roman style Pizza.

The two waiters made such a fuss over us and remained our friends for the rest of our stay (I think I ended up having about three Espressos per day from this place)... Panna Cotta for dessert?

Need I have been asked?!

Afterwards, we took a stroll into the historical centre. I remembered the way. Although Rosie was not convinced that 'I know Rome like the back of my hand'.

I mean, we may not have taken the fastest or easiest route to the Trevi Fountains, but we got there. Witnessing it lit up in all its glory, I followed tradition and tossed a coin into the waters, praying that I'd find a way back. Again.

Being so close to a little Irish bar I knew had a good atmosphere, I suggested that we head there. We got talking to a few Americans who then took us to the river; lined with bars and pop up restaurants during the summer months it's one place where you'll see locals and tourists mingling. We got our cocktails and plonked ourselves down on huge Moroccan style floor cushions under the candle light. Just the kind of relaxation I needed before sightseeing the next day.
 
One thing to be repeated from my first visit was to sleep with the window wide open... that was not a choice this time as we'd opted for a no air-con room (fools!). I've always slept better with noise; the bustle and liveliness are carried faintly through the night up from the street... Just a shame there was no breeze with it!

Together, we visited, and without sounding like a travel guide:

The Vatican, this time I went into the museums and saw the Sistine Chapel - AMAZING! I could have spent hours there once I'd actually reached it! I was jostled around in a herd of hot, sweaty, stop to take a photo of every little thing on display, tourists.
Navona Square.
The Pantheon. Still my favourite thing in Rome. Its dominance over the square is jolting; you walk through the little streets into this fairly small square, and there it is! You're taken aback, questioning "How can something so big and bold be here!? Amongst these tiny delicate streets?!"
The Colosseo, although this time I didn't go inside. I perched myself in the sun and read a book whilst waiting for Rosie.
The little island in the river, with the best Ice Cream shop ever! Again, the Bacio Gelato.
The Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele ll, which I have nicknamed 'The Big White House' (I had previously been to the roof of this building for a panoramic view of the city, definitely not worth a miss).

...And everything in between.


Feeling a little 'Ah! Why not do everything once" I had my palm read by one of the gypsys near to the restaurant. She told me I'd live a long life and that I'd become rich from my creative ideas... (probably spiel she feeds every tourist). I am still working on this!

We ate at Bar Navona - why? Mainly because Dave and I had eaten there before and the guy getting the custom in is hilarious! He comes up to you as soon as you start to look at the outside menu. Now, usually I hate this, but he gives this speech, somewhere along the lines of..."Welcome to the right choice! You know why you made the right choice?! Because this is Navona Square, and this *scans arm to present the restaurant* is Bar Navona". Without fail, to every customer.

We enjoyed pasta, Spaghetti Carbonara, with a bottle of red wine, and on the way back to the hotel I consumed my body weight in Bacio Gelato. Again.

Half of the time spent in Rome, Rosie and I parted for the days, I took long walks, fuelled by my new found love of the syrupy Italian Espresso. She went sightseeing, and I tried to find places I hadn't seen when there the previous time. Walking around aimlessly was joyful, I could soak in my surroundings, most of all when sitting outside restaurants reading, learning Italian and watching the world go by.

The charm with Rome is that wherever you look there is something of importance, something to appreciate. Whether it is a historical monument, a ruin, a church, or another secluded cobbled back street with shutters on every apartment door and window, lined with flower boxes and the occasional Roman man leaning on the balcony railing toking on a cigarette. A local going about their every day life amidst the chaos, the endless queuing traffic and the sound of the chattery language over the beeping of Vespa horns, the women dressed as though they are straight from a catwalk show, and the handsome men, expressing with their hands, loving through their food and wine. It's as though an accordion should be playing in the background the whole time you are there.

I felt totally at peace. I absorbed it all, let out that deep breath and smiled. As John Lennon said "It was like being in the eye of a hurricane. You'd wake up in a concert and think, Wow, how did I get here?".

Upon leaving, I knew I'd be asking myself the same question again soon.

Dipping my toes in the Floating City

When someone recommends a book to me I always make a point of reading it.

Mum had put Tell it to the Skies by Erica James in my bag. She said it'd be a good holiday read. It was! I had finished it 3 days into the trip, and low and behold... It happened to be set in our next destination. Venice.

Reading it had certainly built up expectations of the city as being full of beauty, class, romance, dreams, chance meetings, happiness and old flames relighting. I was ready to be captivated! :)

Or maybe not... :(

Getting there was a total drama...did you expect anything less?! We got so delayed on the train from Vienna that we ended up missing our transfer train from Verona main land. Debating a snooze on the platform until the 6am train, we decided to just get a hotel. Great! An extra nights hotel fee and a whole night/half a day in Venice gone.

The train ride into Venice the next morning was lovely; the weather was warm, and it seemed to brighten our moods watching the Italians cruise along the waves either side of us.

Don't hold your breath...

As soon as we got off the train....it was chaos! Rosies' case lost its wheels, which under normal circumstances would have been hilarious, but we had spent two hours in the heat going up and down, and back and forth on the river buses along the Grand Canal trying to find our hotel. 

We had even seen a willy!

Explanation: A man stood in the same queue as us for the Vaporetti (water bus),  with a little too much on display. We thought maybe he had just forgot to zip up...oh we were too innocent...the next time he turned around, his whole 'ahem' was out!! EVERYTHING! In public! We could not stop laughing. Then it dawned on me. He knew! This wasnt turning out to be the romantic place my book had made it out to be! Annoyed, I scolded him with my harshest stare. After all...How dare he scar lovely, romantic, dreamy Venice.

We had walked over and across bridges that seemed to sprout from nowhere and with no chance of calling a taxi we were literally ready to give up on life...Dramatic I know, but we were in Venice.

Then I saw a Gelateria serving Bacio Gelato! :D ALAS! WE WILL NOT SINK!

Rome was where I had started my addiction to Bacio Gelato. A Ferro Roche flavoured icecream that I literally cannot get enough of when in Italy and have to make my friends try it. No choice in the matter :) 

Minds and moods cooled....Rosie phoned the hotel owner, who confirmed that our bus port was in fact closed for the day (no wonder we were so confused!), and gave us directions, which involved more bridges and case lugging! But we got there.

The room was gorgeous, like a sanctuary....and we still had half a day to explore. Yay!After checking in and freshening up, we struggled and barged our way through a thick sea of tourists all flooding to the Rialto bridge and made our way to St Marks' Square. The queue to St Marks' Basilica was too long and it would soon be closing. 

Feeling as though I wouldn't get to see/do anything whilst there, I decided to go up to the top of the Campanile (Bell Tower of St Mark). Hands on hips and an angry pout I went up in the lift. If I couldn't get to see the cathedral from the inside, I'd see the whole of it from the outside. 

I got more than I bargained for...

Breathtaking!

When my feet touched back down, Rosie and I wandered around the square, then strolled along the waters edge admiring the stalls displaying elaborate Carnivale masks and soaking in the stunning architecture and surroundings.

Settling on an outside table at Le Cafe in Campo S. Stefano (the second biggest square in Venice), and ordering a glass of Prosecco, we people watched whilst discussing how on earth a city can survive relying on water and foot as transport?! Baffled!

Rosie, half way through a sentence was cut off by me wavering a finger for her to quickly turn around and look. "THERE!". A group of guys who we had got talking to on the delayed train had also spotted us and were walking over. What a small world. City. Same same.

We arranged to meet up at St Marks' Square later that evening, and from there, decided to eat at a place our hotel owner had recommended. Locating the original Ae Oche Pizzeria, Santa Croce 1552, wasn't hard, and it was away from the real touristy diners which I liked. 
The only way to describe this place is Italian food met American style. It was casual; perfect for 7 young, budgeting travellers who were starving!

I opted for Melon wrapped in Parma ham for starters, and also tried some of Rosies' deep fried Mozzerella balls. Yummy! For mains I ordered Spaggetti with seafood sauce. Well...Venice, water, sea, sea food. It had to be done.

We all shared a large jug of house Vino Roso (Red Wine) and after our meal, we had a nightcap in a bar close by that was packed with locals. Kicking out time came. Not wanting to go to bed, or leave the dog that had taken a liking to me and cosied up on my lap, we made our way to Erbaria square, ordered our tipples from Al Pesador restaurant and sat on the waters edge chatting and drinking. I slid off my shoes and dipped my toes into the floating city's foundations, swishing them around to make ripples. Captivated.

The next morning I woke EARLY... and took in everything around me as I strolled through the mornings' market; the fresh catch being hawled onto the iced covered fish stalls, Italian words being flung from dealer to dealer, fruit being hung and displayed ready for the customers. Customers who were all still tucked in their hotel beds :) BLISS!

Crossing over the Rialto bridge.....touristless this time. I skipped down the steps like a girly girl, letting my dress blow in the wind, like something from a movie; convinced that James Bond would be round the corner ready for me to fall into his arms... One can only dream.

Upon reaching St Marks' Square again I saw the tourists, cameras at the ready, disembarking for the cathedral tour. I turned and headed in the opposite direction, planning to...well...to get well and truely lost!

I had some logic; I knew I couldn't get off the island without water transport, so realistically I could never be too lost. And this is how I discovered the Dali museum, of whose work I studied at A Level, so I waltzed around it for about 2 hours admiring the soft, delicate, dainty sculptures he'd created. I felt like this after dipping my toes in the water, a high contrast to how I'd been feeling less than 24 hours before.

The book remains one of my favourites. It had so many unguessable twists and turns...reflecting our time in Venice perfectly. Both had managed to reduce me to tears, laughter, anger, contentness, and had left me with fond memories to look back on. I slowly and dreamily made my way back to meet Rosie at the Rialto bridge, which was now rammed with tourists.

It was time to leave.

Time to be reunited with an old flame...

The Beauty of Desire

Hostel located. Wiiiiiiiiiiith a brothel next door. Were we back in Dam?!

My first impressions of Vienna were far from positive. It seemed as though our European travels were doomed. It was late, it was dark, we'd had trouble finding the correct train station, a guy had hassled us for money (Apparently, volunteering to help two ladies carry their cases down 24 steps involves a fee!). The taxi driver couldn't find the hostel, and I hate to admit, we had even opted to eat a KFC. The one thing I hate doing when abroad. 

No...we did not give the guy any money. I'm stubborn :)

Waking up the next morning was NOT delightful in the slightest.

After a 10 minute bus journey in to the city centre, which we didn't bother paying for (Naughty!), I jumped off the bus with the most enthusiasm I could muster (not much), looked up... 

...and was stunned by the pure beauty of absolutely everything! Buildings, parks, shops, monuments. All so...clean, white, big. Grand. Classy. All so...WOW!

I whipped my map and notes out. Where would I start?!

 

I'd circled the things I wanted to see; the Haus House, St Stephen's Cathedral, the Opera house, the Anchor Clock. But it seemed that everywhere I looked there was already something beautiful, ready to be marvelled at.

This was the city to take that opportunity. To stand back and soak in the beauty. I folded my map and placed it back in my pocket.

B's 'itchy feet' had been allowed to stand still and let life catch up with them.

If I hadn't mentioned already, this was my time out. My travelling was a time for me. I hate to say it, but it was set aside to 'find myself', to not rely on a man to make me happy. Going from seeing someone every day for 4 years, to being totally alone was bound to have an effect.

It is said that "the desire of a man is for the woman, but the desire of a woman is for the desire of the man" (Samuel Taylor Coleridge). The beautiful paiing by Klimt known as 'The Kiss' made me stand still and contemplate this. I was trying to figure it out. What does it mean? For about half an hour I must have stood in awe. Thinking; Is the woman enjoying the embrace? Is she almost pulling away? Are they in love? What does it represent?

I came to only one conclusion, 'He adores her'.

Right there and then I told myself I'd made the right choice by leaving. I'd never felt that. Okay, I'd felt attracted to and loved, but never adored. I smiled to myself, maybe one day, but for now it was just me. I had all the time in the world to be desired.

After all this deep thought; staring at the gold encrusted painting, smiling silly to myself, nodding in agreement with my realisations, and the occasional passer by giving me the 'what a weirdo' look, Rosie took her cue in falling off her seat and our bursts of 'bhahahahaha!' laughter pierced the silence of the room. I suppose there's only so much space for serious sentiment, and then you just need a good old laugh to cleanse the soul. Perfect timing on Rosies part if you ask me! :)

After a whole day of moments like this, marvelling and then being brought back to reality by hilarious things happening (I wont go into detail; I would only end up saying 'You had to be there!'), we'd worked up a monsterous appetite.

FOOD!!!!

Budget permitting we couldn't eat like kings every night, so we adopted a German speaking Belgium guy (as you do) and went for a cheap meal in a Bistro bar. The traditional Austrian dish Wiener Schnitzel was ordered (a thin piece of breadcrumbed deep-fried veal), served with a slice of lemon and a potato side dish, and accompanied by a pint of Ottakringer, the local beer. Filling!!

We burnt off the calories with a little walk through the streets in search of a place for the next part of the meal. Dessert. Oh no... I was about to burst as it was.

That's when we discovered Restaurant 1070.

The hostess invited us to sit at a small table outside with a big, warm, welcoming smile. Straight away I took a liking to her. She was brilliant; very helpful and also had a laugh and joke with us. We allowed her to choose us a typical wine from the region, and as we talked about the day, she poured our tipple. Giving us each a glass of water  too, "because when you drink red wine you always need the water!" she said as she raised her eyebrows. Uni days and Rosie's Mulled wine = OH! We know!

When we asked to look at the dessert menu, she told us to leave it to her... and I'm more than pleased we did!

1. Because they have no menus, and 2. Because the next thing we know, we each have a beautifully served selection plate placed infront of us.

I dug in.

More than 1 year on, I can't exactly remember what the desserts were, but my memory recalls a zesty orange sorbet? A pear mouse? And a dark berry chocolate cake? I just remember thinking 'My golly gosh. These are Delicious!'.

THIS was the reason I had travelled. I had desired food. I was hungry for more and now I was being fed.