The Honeymoon’s Over

They say that all good things must come to an end and I can safely say that 4 months tripping around Europe and North America has certainly been good, to say the least. The return trip was long, with a 3 hour bus ride from Whistler to Vancouver, a 90 minute flight to San Francisco and a 2 hour wait at the airport to get back on the plane and fly another 13 hours to Sydney. Then it was collect the luggage, make it through customs, catch a bus to the domestic terminal to get a flight to Brisbane. Needless to say we were both tired by the time we landed, but walking out of the gate and being smothered with hugs and kisses by our nearest and dearest refueled our batteries like nothing else could. Then it was off home for drinks on the deck and it was amazing how easy it was to slip back into that routine after so long.

It’s been three weeks, however, since then, and whilst the first week was great catching up with everyone and getting back in to the Australian lifestyle via a relaxing long weekend away. It was also nice to be able to unpack and know that I wouldn’t have to be packing it all up again in the next couple of days, but I must own to being a little sad. When we were away it was James who suffered from homesickness, whilst I was practically in tears at the thought of having to return to the humdrum of work and everyday life. And I must admit that coming home has been hard. After 16 weeks of soundproof rooms and blockout blinds it was difficult to sleep with the sound of birds twittering, and the once familiar sound of Kookaburras laughing, at the break of dawn. Difficult, too, was it to sleep to my accustomed 8-9am when the sun, with undeniable rudeness, pushed its way through the chinks in the blinds at 5am.

However, the most difficult of all has been returning to a job that I love, but without the usual excitement of starting a new year and looking forward to the experiences it customarily brings. Somehow, I find it difficult to reconcile the fact that whatever new experiences this year may bring at school, they will be nothing compared to the ones I have just had. So I have set my screensaver to randomly cycle through the 1800 odd photos we took in a bid to hold on to that wonderful feeling that I desperately don’t want to lose. It certainly is nice to be able to look up from the chaos of my desk and be reminded that life is not all about work (and even though I have told myself this many times in the past, anyone who knows me will know that I find it very difficult to disconnect myself from what I do and, therefore, life often was about work) and I am determined to make this my new mantra.

It’s funny how these 4 months gone have brought me so much more than I expected, and I think James was right when he said that it would either make us or break us. At times we felt close to breaking point, but being alone together, with no where really to run to when the tension rose, also forced us to deal with each other - and our own short comings – and did bring us closer to each other and a better understanding of our relationship. But whilst the honeymoon is over I will not see this as a negative, despite the fact that it means the government is no longer paying for me to be a permanent tourist. Instead, I look at it as the start of a whole new adventure, albeit a little more domestic in tone, and like Mother Superior wisely commented, “When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window”. Somehow, however, I think it will be me who ends up shoving open the window; and I always keep a spare key handy so I can fling open the damn door!

Whistler a Happy Tune

Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to ski we go, and so far, yes that’s what we’ve done. We’ve hit the slopes (both figuratively and literally) and hit them hard. We have had 7 days skiing so far and there are 5 more to go; today is our one day off and believe me we need it. After checking in we headed out to collect our gear and went to bed nice and early so that we could better cope with having to get up at some god awful hour of the morning: 7am! We woke up to snow drifting past the window and it really hasn’t stopped since.

Our first day on the slopes was spent back at school, with James in boarding school and me in ski school and, for the first time in 100 days, we did not see each other until school let out at 3pm. Yes, that’s right, for 100 days we have pretty much been together 24/7 and, whilst it has provided for some interesting moments, this was the first time we had “news” to share with each other. The short version goes like this: James – I spent most of the morning on my ass but have discovered that I’m an ambi-turner! Me – told them I was level 3 and ended up on the magic carpet; what the hell?! Was promoted to a new instructor who said I was level 4 and needed to go to a different school up the slopes. Hooray! I get to play with the big kids!

Day 2 of the lessons went like this: James – I can link my turns and safely navigate green slopes. I’ve been promoted up to level 4 and can play on the upper slopes with the big kids too! Me – I have gone from top of the class to bottom of the class. I hate skiing and my legs hurt. Anna, I know exactly how you felt on your last ski trip and am desperately depressed. Poxy skiing.

It was this attitude that led to us spending our third day on the slopes by ourselves; James showing just how clever he was going from level 1 to 4 in 2 days and me trying to regain my confidence. We also had our first ever experience of skiing powder and had much fun falling over in it. The next day - our last day of ski school - was a more positive one for us both, with James boarding at upper level 4 and me being much happier in my new class with my new friends.

Since then we have explored lots of blue runs on Whistler and Blackcomb mountains and absolutely love the skiing. James is even keen to try some bowls, I’m not so sure, but one thing we both agree on is that we can’t get over how much snow there is, both in the village and on the mountains, and how much we are loving it here.

Some people might think that getting up early and throwing yourself down a mountain time and time again knowing that you’re going to come down covered with bruises and every muscle in your body aching is no kind of way to spend the end of your honeymoon. But we think it is perfect. Anyway, yesterday was James’ birthday so we took the afternoon off and went out for drinks and had the most expensive dinner of our lives so it is not all work, work, work. But let’s not mention that word, because it only reminds me that it’s just around the corner and I’ll have to change my tune to hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to work we go…but not just yet!

The Big Apple…devoured

New York is such an iconic place and we have both seen it countless times on TV and in the movies, but actually being there is another thing altogether and I don’t think I will ever view it in the same way again. I had every intention of writing 2 entries whilst in the city that never sleeps – one half way through our 7 day stay and one at the end just before we flew out – but never seemed to be able to find the time to do so. Somehow, there always seemed something better to do, and I hope you will forgive me for the lack of information then, and for the overabundance of it now.

As we flew in to JFK I kept craning my neck to get my first glimpse of the skyline and the steel jungle that is Manhattan, but it managed to elude us until we were about 5 minutes away from it in the cab. After checking in to our hotel on West 47th St between 6th and 7th Ave (Times Square) we set off to explore midtown and Hell’s Kitchen, where we ended up in a sports bar watching NFL, eating potato skins and drinking local beer. After 12 weeks in Europe we were both looking forward to sampling well known American cuisine and, believe me, there was no shortage of choice or amount. We have had hotdogs and a big pretzel, baby back ribs, cheesecake, pizza, waffles, pancakes, cheeseburger and fries, ‘slaw, Boston cream pie, home fries and coffee (although it was purely for the caffeine, not the taste!). Since our time in the Big Apple I have had some of my preconceptions (predominantly negative I will admit) about Americans shattered: they are very friendly and not rude at all, on the whole; they are far more generous in giving change to people on the street; they have a sense of humour. However, when it comes to food it was all that I thought: there’s far too much of it given to you; there is far too much of it consumed; there is far too much of it thrown away.

It’s a strange place, New York, but one which I have come to love through the people we have met and the things we have seen and done. Our first day was spent Christmas shopping in Macy’s and checking out the tree and ice skaters at Rockerfeller Center. The next day was Christmas and we spent it in Central Park with every other tourist and local who had come out to take advantage of the perfect weather: blue skies, relatively warm temperature and crisp air. We walked through the Ramble where we saw squirrels in abundance and past the boathouse restaurant up to the Jackie O Reservoir and back through Strawberry Fields. We then had a roast turkey lunch at the Galaxy Diner in Hell’s Kitchen where we met these 2 guys who told us about Junior’s cheesecake which is definitely worth the wait to get a table.

A trip to the American Museum of Natural History followed on Boxing Day and it was by far the most crowded place we have been on the trip. Everyone and their child was there checking out the incredible displays and it was worse than Grand Central Station, literally. We had an early dinner at John’s Pizza, one of the top 10 pizza places in the U.S. before heading out to a Broadway play – Cyrano de Bergerac – starring Kevin Kline and Jennifer Garner. Yes, that’s right, we saw famous people in the flesh, on Broadway, and only had to pay ½ price for the tickets because we bought them that afternoon. It was rather surreal to be sitting there listening to Kline deliver perfectly timed lines and it wasn’t until walking home on Broadway that it actually hit me why they were called Broadway shows and that we were staying right in the middle of them. Yes, I know, as James has commented several times to me on this trip, for someone who can be so intelligent, I am so stupid.

Anyway, to continue the list of “things we’ve done, places we’ve seen” we rode the Stanton Island ferry and saw the Statue of Liberty, whose size can only be appreciated when people are standing next to it; we walked down Wall St and across the Brooklyn Bridge and back; we visited Ground Zero, although the visual impact of what is no longer there was far more obvious from the break in the skyline when looking back from the top of the Empire State Building; we visited the U.N. and toured the Security Council Chamber, which looked like the war room in the Peter Seller’s movie Dr Strangelove with its outdated, but still used, décor and technology and we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and added even more names to our already long list of famous artists.

Needless to say we did not have any difficulty in filling the 7 days we had there and when it came time to leave, we could not believe that the week had gone so quickly. It may have been difficult to get in to the Big Apple – security checks before checking in at Paris, as well as after, bag searches, having our fingerprints and photo taken as well as signing a declaration that agreed to giving up our right to appeal if refused entry for any reason they deemed reasonable – but the opportunity to take a bite out of it was one we are glad to have had, and one we devoured with relish! There only remains one more leg of our “ridiculously long honeymoon” to quote my beloved, and much missed, sister, and with any luck we will manage to keep both of our legs in one piece. We leave tomorrow for Whistler, after 2 restful days in Vancouver and a quiet ringing in of the New Year. The snow reports are promising: 200 out of 200 runs open and 1.8 metres of snow, with more to come. We are looking forward to seeing snow again and feeling the rush of icy wind on our faces as we swoosh down the slopes. Sorry, that’s me, as James will more likely be feeling the rush of icy snow IN his face and sliding down the slopes on his bum, as he has decided to try boarding. If you’re still reading, then thank you for your perseverance and patience. We hope you had a wonderful Christmas, and we wish you all the best for the New Year. I will keep you posted over the next 2 weeks re our skiing exploits and James’ progress as a boarding dude.

PS Since James lost his phone somewhere in the marshland of Carmague, we have been relying on mine. However, apparently my phone is not compatible with North American networks, so if you need to contact us then email is the best bet or if there is an emergency you can contact us at Delta Whistler Village Suites, 4308 Main St Whistler, ph 001116049386510.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

This song has always conjured up images of sipping hot chocolate and cosy carriage rides across a landscape of rolling hills blanketed by glistening snow. These, however, are not the things we have experienced. COLD, FREEZING, MY TOES FEEL LIKE THEY ARE GOING TO SNAP OFF, these have become the constants as of late. It’s funny but the Alps were cold, and of course we expected them to be, but what we didn’t expect was that the Loire would be even colder. The last time we drove through this region we were in short sleeved shirts, but we now we wake up to -50 C at 9.30am and scrape the ice off the car windscreen and windows.

Yet even such cold conditions could not deter us from the main purpose of our return: Chenonceau, Chateau des Dames. We rugged up, left the warmth of our final B and B in Orbigny and drove the short distance to the chateau. I have only ever seen pictures of Chenonceau in spring/summer when the gardens are in full flower, so it was with a sense of trepidation that I approached from the car park. Yes it was cold, and the trees that lined the path up to the castle had lost all of their leaves and the canal had even iced over in sections, but there was beauty everywhere to be found. The rest of our time in the Loire was spent watching ice sculptures being carved and sipping hot wine at Christmas markets or enjoying the wonderful food and conversation offered up by our fabulous hosts Denis and Laure.

From here it was north to Amiens for the night in order to visit the Australian War Memorial outside of Villers-Bretennoux. Again it was cold, with the frost crunching under our feet as we walked alongside the graves, but this time it merely served to remind us of how lucky we were to have the car heating to return to and not the cold, wet conditions of the trenches faced by the men who fought and died there during WWI. It was difficult to believe that such a peaceful and beautiful landscape was once filled with so much death and destruction.

The last of our 86 days in Europe were spent back where they began, in Paris. This time, however, we stayed in Montmatre, and took full advantage of its relative height by watching the sun set over the city from Sacre Coeur and wandering around the square where so many famous artists have been inspired. We also caught the metro to the Eiffel Tower and walked down the Champs Elysee at night and enjoyed the Christmas lights in the trees. Speaking of which, the big day is almost here and we will be enjoying it in New York; we are both very excited at beginning the next part of our adventure but are not looking forward to replacing espressos with American coffee. Despite the differences in language and customs, Europe has become what we do and there is no doubt that we will both miss it.

The final 4 and the first of the 10

Well, the umbrellas are still intact but Tuscany has managed to elude us again. For both of our two days here it has rained pretty much nonstop, meaning that our forays into Siena have predominantly been either short lived, or indoors drinking more wine and eating more pasta and pizza. In fact, as the end of our Italian leg has drawn closer over these final four days, we have been indulging more and more in any opportunity to eat and drink as much Italian fare as we can fit in. This has resulted in not only our pants getting tighter - I keep trying to convince us both that it is just the fact that they have been through an industrial strength dryer – but quite a few memorable meals.

The first of these was in Siena, on our last night there, where, concerned about avoiding another Firenze situation where we needed to book and that this was listed as the best restaurant in Siena, we had dutifully made a reservation the night before. And we were so glad that we had, given that we were the only people there! Sure it was a Sunday night, but best restaurant and all that…Anyway, needless to say the service was excellent, our conversation was not interrupted (yes, believe or not, we have as yet to run out of things to say to each other) and the food was incredible; best rabbit of the trip and spinach that Popeye would have given his pipe to eat. The only downside was when our evening was rudely interrupted by another couple muscling in on what we considered (and rightly so given that we were the sole occupants) to be our restaurant. Luckily, we were then distracted by the arrival of tiramisu and panacotta and were too overcome to care.

The last of these wonderful meals was in Porto Venere, just west of La Spezia and south of Cinque Terre. It was to be our last day in Italy and we could not have asked for a better one. The houses were brightly coloured, and appeared even more so against a backdrop of bright blue sky which that merged into the green of the ocean. We ended up at a little osteria, run by this Italian guy and his mamma, who cooked up the wonderful food which we ate: the best ever anchovies (James) and spaghetti with pesto (Sharie). The atmosphere was as unique as the food, as it was low ceilinged, set with wooden benches and frequented by local fishermen. The grappa was not the best, but I managed to take the focus off of that by inadvertently making a rather large gaffe. Let’s just say that the response of the guy who ran the place was this: “He’s not my father, he’s my friend!” and that his mamma found it very funny, as did the other Italians who came up to pay their bill, upon being told by the guy who ran the osteria what I had said. Oh well, I’ll just chalk it up to a language issue and resolve myself to no longer ever being able to live there, as planned earlier in the day when I was not “the girl who thought…”.

The next day we left Italy and entered France for the third, and final, time via the Frejus Tunnel (yes mum, we know that’s what you suggested). We were slightly nervous as the temperature plummeted and registered 00C at one point and our car warned us of the possibility of ice. However, in the end, the only thing we had to be scared of was the cost: we went through 6 tolls and ended up paying 71 euros ($125) to do so. But on leaving the Frejus and emerging from the darkness into the light we gasped at how beautiful, and dramatic, it was. On entering the tunnel on the Italian side there was quite a bit of snow, but on the French side it was a blanket of white; there were pine trees whose branches were fully laden with the stuff all the way down the mountains right to the edge of the road. We are currently in La Bridoire, close to Chambery, and yesterday drove to Annecy - very picturesque town on a lake with a fabulous view of the Alps – and are getting used to the car’s warnings of ice and seeing it register -10C.

We have now organized all of our accommodation between here and our departure from Paris on the 23rd, which is a little sad as it brings home the reality of the end of Europe, for this time anyway. But at the same time we are also a little bit excited - James especially – at the thought of New York and Canada. Until then, we still have 9 days left in France and are going to make the most of every one. It is amazing how much we have missed France, even though we keep passing through it. Perhaps it is because it now feels familiar, or because even though the roads are expensive, we can find our way around them! But then again, there’s the people, the food, the wine, the croissants, the pastry, the cheese…

Roman Holliday

It’s really hard, sitting in Siena, only 2 days after leaving Rome, to write about it. So much was seen, and so much experienced, that it feels not only like Rome was several weeks ago, but that separating everything into single events is impossible. Nonetheless, I will try, albeit a little haphazardly.

Our first real look at Rome was by night, and was the Colosseum, or as we later learned the Flavian Amphitheatre. We were only 3 stops from there and so it seemed the logical place to go and get a feel for the city and have our first meal. Walking out of the metro and seeing this iconic edifice sitting right there in front of you was a little unnerving. Although, after a brief circumnavigation, wine and pasta I began to feel that I was going to love the place. For those who don’t know, I am the Modern History teacher, and although any history is good history as far as I am concerned, my knowledge of the sights we would be seeing was not as extensive as James’ and so I was a little more apprehensive of how I would feel about the city.

We had set aside 5 days to see the eternal city, feeling that any less would hardly do it justice, but even so, by the end, we were exhausted. I could list all of the monuments, archaeological treasures and buildings we saw, but there would be little point, as it would be just that, a list. What I will do, instead, is give you an overview of the “best”, according to each of us. For James it was the Colosseum. The sheer size of the thing (seating 50-60 000 depending on who you believe, and believe me, there are people willing to have you pay them to do so at every turn) and the imagination that it provokes, of the gladiatorial fights (not chariot races, I learned, that’s at Circus Maximus – always knew that Russell Crowe was crap) its iconic form and the labyrinth city underneath the wooden floor where slaves worked to provide the required spectacle demanded by a Roman audience.

For me it was the Vatican museum. We have certainly seen our fair share, and more, of art and sculpture on this trip, and at times it feels like it is all too much to take in. But the Vatican amazed me with not only the size of its collection, and the range – from Egyptian mummies to Salvador Dalis – but the fact that they expected you to see it in only 4 hours, if you were there from opening to closing; apparently that’s enough time in winter. So we were there at opening and were still there, taking our second look at the Sistine chapel, when they shut up shop, literally, and we were told to leave the chapel. What struck me about the Sistine chapel is that although I’ve seen the ceiling so many times before in books, I had not quite realized just how big the space is, or how overwhelming the images are. I felt a little bombarded by them and their colours, and even when the chapel was almost empty and we were pretty much the last people in there as they were herding the tourists out, I still felt that there were too many figures in the room.

Other than that what really sticks with us at this point is how good the weather was, especially compared to now, when it is raining. We had blue skies every day and the only catastrophe was when the digital camera decided not to turn on when we went to Palantine Hill and we were forced to go old school and rely on memory for visuals – funny how you don’t really realize how much you depend on the camera until the battery dies! We were also very excited to discover that Venice is in the grip of flood and hooray for us for deciding to see it first, rather than last, as we would have needed gum boots to see anything. However, we better not crow too loudly, in case the rain doesn’t let up and we have to suffer it for the next two weeks, as I’m not sure that our Florence umbrellas will last that long!

The big V… and me

Mt Vesuvius is big! Really big. And still active. It dominates the Bay of Naples and was easily visible from 60km away as we approached from the north towards Campania. It was an eagerly anticipated part of the trip for me as I felt that I had been here so many times before (Google Earth is a beautiful thing) and, as a teacher, it was topic of the first lesson I ever designed. A’lora, as we entered the outskirts of Naples, Vesuvius loomed ominously against the blue sky before us, I was imagining the death and destruction it had rained down upon Pompeii and Herculaneum (Ercolano).

It wasn’t till the next morning, after frantically trying to find a Meteo report on Italian television (not an easy thing to do), did we discover that it was predicted to rain heavily for the next two days. We had prepared ourselves for such an occurrence with allowing extra time and had our recently purchased, slightly dodgy umbrellas from Florence, and Sharie had her emergency poncho! We decided to take the risk that the weather would improve and set out for the National Archaeological Museum of Naples.

Napoli is a sea of humanity: it pushes and shoves and feels rather intimidating. Cars constantly honk horns, piles of rubbish and the detritus of city life line the streets (as does virtually everywhere else in Campania) and hordes of people, even in the pouring rain, rush down narrow alleyways where all forms of merchandise are pushed towards you. It was with some relief that we found the museum, a peaceful place in stark contrast to its surroundings. The museum houses some of the most recognizable artifacts left after the Vesuvius eruption, including the mosaic of the Alexander the Great from the House of the Faun. Amazing! Over one million pieces went into making that mosaic alone. And there were rooms of the stuff! There was even a special adults only room, The Secret Room, which housed a collection of erotic art. A particular cardinal’s collection was very interesting.

On our second day, with the rain easing, we headed towards Pompeii. Vesuvius was still obscured from sight by low level clouds and I was beginning to fear that our first sighting in the car would be our only viewing. It drizzled on and off for the first three hours, but it only seemed to add to our visit. It was easy to see why large stones had been placed regularly across streets because we needed to use them at times to avoid the pooling water. We saw the Villa of Secrets, House of the Faun, Lupinarium with interesting anatomical paintings, the Stabian Baths and so much more. We wandered the streets for seven hours and could have easily spent the same amount of time again and not seen everything. We were rewarded for our perseverance in the last hour when the sun came out and Vesuvius was revealed. The sun glistening on the wet cobbled streets and light on the walls of the ancient city is a moment I will remember forever.

On our final day in Campania, we drove the Amalfi coast and attempted to scale Mt Vesuvius. The former was beautiful and remarkably blue. We stopped on several occasions, both legally and Italian style (pull over wherever you want and put you hazard lights on). The drive is a thrilling rollercoaster with twisting bends, blind corners and long straights with majestic views. The latter, the scaling Vesuvius, was a frustrating experience of poorly signed directions, horribly potted and dangerous roads and a depressing and decaying human landscape. On arriving to the entry point to the Vesuvius park we found the road closed a quarter of the way to the summit. In the end, Vesuvius was bigger than both of us, not surprising really, as its bigger than everything else around here.