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.

A vow of poverty, sort of…

Ahh, Assisi. Good old St Francis and his help the poor, live the simple life (who knew he would predict a hit series??), don’t focus on worldly possessions and take time to contemplate. Yes, that sounds like what we need: we’ve spent all our money on leather goods in Florence, so that makes us poor and perhaps we will now qualify for help; we like the simple life and getting away from the rat race, surely our commitment to stay away from it for 4 months proves that. Not focus on worldly possessions? Sure, we’ve stayed in one star accommodation so clearly we are not that obsessed. Contemplation? That sounds nice and relaxing, especially while watching the sunset over the valley.

And that’s exactly what we did, to some degree, anyway. We did watch the sun set over the valley and watch it turn to mist on both of the nights that we were there and it provided a much needed balm for us both. We walked down to the Basilica di S. Francesco twice – once at night and once in the morning – and even sat through mass. (Yes, this is very unlike us but this is how it went: the previous night I had confessed that I had a secret desire to go to a mass – please note that this is after several drinks - and while we were at the Basilica the next morning, we went to the crypt to view St Francis’ tomb and whilst there one started. By the time I realized what was going on, they were in the middle of praying and next thing you know we end up sitting through a very weird experience, as the mass was given by an American, to a group of Americans, who seemed to be on some kind of religious tour.)

So yes, we contemplated, we relaxed and we REALLY planned on invoking a vow of poverty, but we didn’t, and this is how IT went: on our walk down to the Basilica at night we noticed a sign that read, “If you are interested in trying the best balsamic and olive oil, come in, if you are interested in the cheapest, please don’t.” Of course, being interested in both, we went in and discovered that the guy was not lying. And not only that, but that he ships all over the world and had just sent a crate to Toowong (we even saw the receipt to prove it) and if some rich guy in Toowong has it shipped to him, well that’s good enough for us. Next thing you know, we’re contemplating weight and thanking god that we get an extra 10 kilos when entering and exiting the U.S. and before you know it we’ve spent the equivalent of one night’s accommodation on condiments. So much for that poverty thing.

What have we learned from this? Well, the fact that the Basilica was directly involved in EACH of these strange occurrences reinforces what we both believe: religion makes you do funny things and contrary to popular belief (ie what we were hoping to believe) places where men walk around in brown robes taking vows of poverty does NOT necessarily mean that it will rub off onto you.

Next was (yes, this entry is about a week behind because frankly we have been far too busy seeing things) Napoli, Sorrento and Pompei, but James is writing that one, and will be posted soon. Then Roma and beyond!

PS Toby – St Francis may have taken a vow of poverty but he clearly enjoyed a drink now and again; mission accomplished. Pray we don’t get thirsty!