Saxing it up at Brissie’s best jazz bars


Hey there lovely readers, looking for a sophisticated vibe to wrap up a day of Brissie sight-seeing? Well there’s nothing better than a sassy little sip while being serenaded with a sexy sax. Oh yes! If you love a cosy little jazz club, Brisbane doesn’t disappoint.

Mood lighting, vintage comfort, eclectic décor, and smooth music that’s both relaxing and danceable depending on mood, or cocktail choice(s). Cool the heels and scat the night away at four of our faves…

Mr Vain

FORTITUDE VALLEY

New to Jazz? I dipped my toes right here, stumbling across this little gem while feasting with buddies on Mr Vain’s Pan-Asian cuisine. Every Thursday night, you’ll be hypnotised by the nostalgic sounds of NYC jazz at this ever-so chic spot. Hidden down a moody laneway illuminated with ambient orange lighting, Mr Vain serves up a delicious à la carte menu while you sip on a Manhattan and let the sweet sounds of jazz music wash over you.

1a/610 Ann St Fortitude Valley 4006

Doo-Bop Bar

BRISBANE CITY

There’s something snazzy about basement bars, reminding me of the smoky speak-easy’s of yesterday-year. You’ll find Doo-Bop Bar has that feel and its cool moody vibe offers the perfect respite post shopping or office slogging. Listening to both local, interstate, and international artists getting their groove on live while you sip on your favourite cocktail? What better way to wind-down.

101 Edward St Brisbane 4000

Chattanooga Jazz Bar

FORTITUDE VALLEY

Inspired by America’s deep south where jazz music first began, this one showcases vintage furniture, hearty food, a casual atmosphere and is the place for absolutely anyone. Whether you’re new to the world of jazz or know John Coltrane’s discography like the back of your hand, at Chattanooga, you’ll enjoy the full jazz experience and feel right at home. 

115 Wickham St Fortitude Valley 4006

Brisbane Jazz Club

KANGAROO POINT

Sheltered in a historic boat-house, the Brisbane Jazz Club is a musical institution. Known as the home of live jazz in Brisbane, a night at this iconic venue offering fabulous views of the Story Bridge from the private river deck, scrumptious food, refreshing drinks, and incredible artists from across the world, improvising exciting jazz music on the spot – no musical experience is the same at this beloved establishment! Wanting to see the best of the best? Head over to the Brisbane Jazz Club.

1 Annie St kangaroo Point 4169

Tell us about your fave bars!

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Summer Action in Brissy

Hi there lovely readers, find yourself spending more time planning your next overseas vacay than exploring your own back yard? Me too! Until friends who’d recently relocated from Sydney to Brissie, kept regaling us with their latest local adventures. Well! Ready to embark on your own local journey in beautiful Brisbane? Here are the perfect folk who promise to make your summer truly special. Kiff & Culture invites you to spice up your summer with hidden gems in Southeast Queensland and Northern New South Wales- check ’em out and let the good times roll!

Kiff & Culture…

Kiff & Culture is about to take your summer to a whole new level! Dive into the wonders of Southeast Queensland and Northern New South Wales with bespoke tours that will leave you grinning from ear to ear. From lounging on the sun-soaked beaches of Byron Bay to exploring the magical rainforests of Tamborine Mountain and indulging in a memorable feast, Kiff & Culture has your back. Brace yourself for gourmet farm-to-table dining, award-winning wineries, and heart-pounding outdoor adventures, all served with a side of exceptional service. We’ve already booked a helitour and a nosh gig, staytuned! Unforgettable moments and grounded connections guaranteed right there – enjoy!

https://kiffandculture.com.au/

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Happy 2024!

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Wild Dining in Dubai

Hi there lovely readers, how’s the festive planning going? Heading overseas to revel in spicy dishes and chilled cocktails by a balmy tropical beach? Or Europe for robust dishes and warm toddies under twinkly fairy lights?

On a recent interstate flight I was ruminating on said options while flicking through the latest Qantas mag when I came across an article extolling the uniqueness of three restaurants in Dubai. Well that settles it said I, Europe with a stop over in this fine city. Needs must if I am to write with conviction.

But would I bring these restaurant experiences alive in the same captivating manner as Jenny Hewett who wrote the article in question? Clipped straight from the web, link at the end, read on. And if you add one (or all three), to your agenda, let us know about your experience.

Over to Jenny…

Ossiano, Atlantis The Palm Hotel

Chef Grégoire Berger’s “11-wave” experience begins with a slap, albeit of the edible variety. The emulsion-like amuse-bouche, presented in a clear, dissolving sachet and aptly named Slap of the Ocean, is eaten in the total darkness of the “plankton” room. “Don’t be scared,” says the hostess with a laugh as she swirls glowing liquid in a glass orb while an automated recording explains the experience. The scene is being set. Next to Atlantis The Palm’s Lost Chambers Aquarium, Michelin-starred Ossiano is the closest you can get to dining in the sea without scuba gear.

Berger’s latest menu, Escale, which translates to “stopover” in French, charts the 37-year-old chef’s seaside travels from childhood to now, taking in flavours and anecdotes from Brittany to Japan and Morocco, with bursts of olive wakame and yoghurt and mushroom with dashi.

After the amuse-bouche, we’re led to the dining room for the 10 remaining seafood courses. A humpback whale and ethereal crimson-red Spanish fighting fish are giants among the 65,000 other sea creatures in the aquarium in front of us, which comes courtesy of a cleverly placed large-scale digital animation at the back of the room that’s reflected onto the glass.

At one point, the server decants a homemade mulled pinot noir and lights a candle to detect sediment. “I’ll be serving you this candle for your dinner tonight,” he says, snuffing out the flame and chopping the deceptive log of foie gras into four pieces to be spread with sour fruits on brioche.

The surprises don’t stop there. A code is required to unlock a treasure chest containing uni (sea urchin) and seaweed and guests are led to the bar for the mid-meal palate cleanser, a non-alcoholic tequila shot chased with pop rocks and sorbet instead of salt. At the end of the meal, we take home gifts of housemade Japanese dashi in a jar and a booklet capturing chef Berger’s coming-of-age through food.

Seven Paintings, Hyde Hotel Dubai

Those taught not to play with their food will need to reconfigure their manners at the mind-bending, seven-course interactive experience Seven Paintings. In the ballroom of the Hyde Hotel in Dubai’s Business Bay, you’re invited to paint edible colours onto chocolate to recreate your own Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh and add mock “tears” from a dropper bottle to the Picasso dish of chilled poached prawn, mango and passionfruit.

This art-focused meal was conceived by Nadine Beshir, CEO and show producer of Dubai-based Dinner Time Story, and chef Omar Sartwari, who regularly pops up as a projected miniature of himself on the table. The venture, which employs multimedia art, technology and projectors, is Beshir’s fourth. She recently launched a Message in a Bottle experience from the JA Hotel & Resort in Jebel Ali, which takes place aboard the family-friendly boat, Sirene, and has a strong message about climate and sustainability.

The dishes at Seven Paintings are tied back to artworks by Leonardo da Vinci, Banksy, Picasso, Salvador Dali, Jackson Pollock, Andy Warhol and Vincent van Gogh. For the Pollock dish, where guests are encouraged to create an artwork with salad dressing, “we wanted guests to not only understand the art but also to experience it from the artist’s point of view”, says Beshir. “Pollock was about translating movement with music into abstract art. The natural colours of foods like capiscum, beetroot and spinach represent paint and we give our guests the chance to use a paintbrush, listen to jazz and paint on the table.” For extra irreverence, the consommé that accompanies the beef arrives in a Coca-Cola bottle in a nod to the Andy Warhol era.

There’s something underground and a little bit rebellious about this dinner and that’s part of its appeal.

Krasota Dubai, Downtown Dubai

“I’ve always looked at a restaurant as a theatre,” says Vladimir Mukhin, head chef of Russian-born concept Krasota Dubai. Marrying food with visual art from co-owner Anton Nenashev’s digital art studio, the gastronomic theatre opened in April with a grand, interactive immersion that magically brings to life the works of eight renowned 19thand 20th-century Russian artists, including Marc Chagall.

The restaurant seats just 20 guests on a large circular table in a round room that has the effect of a diorama and plays on every human sense. Mukhin uses texture and complex flavours, such as the tart prickly sea-buckthorn berry, to create sensory moments. The soft crunch of young almonds in the crab with limoo amani (dried lime) animates the crystallised texture of Mikhail Vrubel’s painting technique.

Thanks to 20 projectors (one for each diner), a suite of industrial cameras and optical trackers, dishes such as scallop, finger lime and sea asparagus sit under a whirl of moving digital graphics. Meanwhile, masterpieces, including Ukrainian-born Russian painter Ilya Repin’s All In the Details, are projected around the room.

The Krasota team trained in AI for months to distinguish plates from other objects. “No matter where the guest moves their plate, the effect moves along with it,” says Mukhin. This is no amateur production. There are also costumes to help convey the narrative. Our waiter, Abdul, changes his outfit nine times, at one point appearing at the table wearing a sculptural, iceberg-esque headpiece.

The new show, Imaginary Future, which launched in October, explores eight scenarios of human development to come in the next 30 to 50 years, such as life underwater.

Qantas October 23

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Around Brissie – this one’s for the foodies!

Planning your next holiday? The glorious Queensland weather whispering ‘pick me, pick me’? Pop Brisbane city on that agenda and give yourself permission to explore the wharfs, roof tops, gritty lanes, shipping containers, holes in the walls and underground spots dishing up  boujee cocktail and intimate wine bars and a plethora of reknowned restaurants. Biancas, Honto, Greca, SameSame, Agnes, Hellenika and more. And…if you’re a serious foodie hankering for exquisitely delectable tiny morsels that sing to your superior taste buds, you’ll be wanting to add a degustation or two into the mix.

From Japanese flavour bombs and clever Australian twists to traditional French fare, I’ve just made your life easy by rounding up 10 of our best degustation destinations worth your holiday dollars, starting with my absolute fave…

 Rogue Bistro

NEWSTEAD

A block away from my home, the bolt hole for celebrations, the dark and brooding atmosphere at Rogue Bistro livens the senses to the culinary experience ahead. Immersed in their six-meal degustation menu that rotates monthly, features the freshest local and seasonal produce and epitomises perfect simplicity, and I’m in heaven. I also love that the menu caters to all dietary requirements, ensuring no one misses out.

WEBSITE |I NSTAGRAM

Deer Duck Bistro

AUCHENFLOWER

Deep in the heart of Auchenflower you’ll find Deer Duck Bistro – this French Renaissance-inspired spot delivering a fine dining experience of delectable culinary delights.

Featuring five modern Australian and European degustation menus, there is something for every foodie (yes, including vegetarians). A quirky and artistic vibe, Deer Duck Bistro promises a renaissance of sound, sight, and taste! Oh yum!

WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM

Montrachet

BOWEN HILLS

Scratch that Parisian itch at Montrachet, one of our most acclaimed French restaurants offering a seasonal French menu both traditional and contemporary. Foie gras, lobster tartare anyone? Pair this with Beluga caviar and your favourite French wine. Montrachet’s tasting menu features a six-course meal, where you’ll enjoy flavourful yet delicate French cuisine from start to finish. Yet to experience this one as I just can’t move past their famous double baked crab and cheese souffle, however that caviar coupled with a delectable french wine is beckoning!

WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM

Exhibition Restaurant

BRISBANE CITY

Nestled under the streets of Brisbane City, Exhibition is an intimate 24-seat restaurant dishing up a rare multi-sensory dining experience. Exhibition takes inspiration from Japanese-style omakase and the highlight here is in the details – from the handmade cutlery to ceramics from Japanese artists, and cooking artefacts. Staying true to an ethos of simplicity and sustainability, the six-course degustation is as thoughtful as it is mind-blowing.

WEBSITE |I NSTAGRAM

Joy Restaurant

FORTITUDE VALLEY

Joy epitomises the degustation menu, proving that great things really do come in small packages. The compact 10-seat restaurant holds a six-star culinary experience in its intimate omakase-style offering, lovingly served up by founding chefs Tim and Sarah Scott. Whereas other degustations are served under dim lighting with a moody ambience it’s all in the name here at Joy – a unique degustation experience that’s more quirky than imposing.

WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM

Da Biuso

MOBILE

Fitted out to resemble Brisbane’s historic trams, this 12-seater restaurant welcomes passengers aboard at revolving locations around the city to a first-class dining carriage experience. Da Biuso serves Mediterranean-inspired fare, with a paired wine option curated from a glorious list of Italian drops – some of which are exclusively sourced for Da Biuso. The menu changes with the seasons, so expect the likes of oysters all’onda, a spritz cocktail with Australian scampi, and Tasmanian lamb in a balsamic bone reduction.

WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM

 

Bacchus

SOUTH BANK

Bacchus boasts opulence and timelessness with a venue and menu that are equally as divine as each other. Beloved by foodies Brisbane wide, this is impressive degustation dining.

A thoughtfully considered 11-course degustation menu, Bacchus will impress with its high-quality ingredients leaving you bursting at the seams after completing your journey of flavour and delight.

WEBSITE |I NSTAGRAM

Takashiya

SOUTH BANK

Want to impress your guests? Takashiya’s omakase VIP room will definitely do the trick. Anintimate 12-person Japanese dining experience, Takashiya offers the best-of-the-best Japanese degustation with fish and wagyu coming all the way from the motherland. Omakase is a Japanese phrase referring to the trust between the chef and the customers – oh yes, you can trust revered chef Takashi Nami to treat you to a culinary adventure.

WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM

C’est Bon

WOOLLOONGABBA

The chef’s tasting menu at this heritage French institution guarantees you an experiencebursting with passion, dedication, and discovery. Whether you opt for the five-course or eight-course spread, each dish is imbued with a sense of sincerity sparked by a modern flair. Of course, the menu offers the perfect wine pairings to complement each flavour and take it to the next level.

WEBSITE |I NSTAGRAM

Cuisine On Cue

IN HOUSE…

Ok, so you’d prefer to treat your travel buddies at your Air B&B? Make your next dinner party one to remember with an exquisite degustation thanks to the brilliant chefs at Cuisine on Cue. Course after course of high culinary art that scintillates the senses, each dish carefully selected and prepared to create a bespoke and memorable catering experience. A dedicated staff on hand to ensure your event is hassle-free. Enjoy!

WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM | FACEBOOK

Thanks Style Magazine for the inspiration! You can check out the rest of the best in food here. Or, you can read the latest issue of Style here.

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Return Tickets…

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Light us up Brissie!

Hi there, lovely readers!

As you know, I’m passionate about exploring the world and love to showcase the hidden gems on this blog. Well! Scratching an itchy foot while lamenting to my travel bud Jen about the drought between trips, the woman said, ‘Hon! You live in a city full of action, yet you don’t share any of those adventures?’ A Sydneysider having FOMO about the vibrancy of my hometown Brisbane? Unusual. She’s right, though.

Thing is, you’re less likely to hear about Brisbane’s ever expanding vibrancy over thecacophony of our Sydney and Melbourne sisters extolling their brilliance in a never-ending competition for supremacy, so let me enlighten you. From fresh fare markets to music gigs, new restaurants and roof-top cocktail spots to hidden bars and roving foodie trails, light shows, underground concerts and more – Brisbane is no longer the ‘sleepy town’ of yesteryear. Heck no! Let’s start with RiverFest.

River Festival is when Brisbane brings out the big guns in celebration of all things art, culture and community. From theatre, art and music to a combination of all, such as ‘The Partty’ delivering a ‘mind and body bending’ combination of circus, cabaret and acrobatics. Kicking off with the fireworks extravaganza – Riverfire (I know, all those dollars wasted, but this one rivals Sydney’s New Year’s Eve, and I simply can’t resist a good firework’), there are over 1000 performances running city-wide across 23 days worth exploring, experiencing and indulging. Running from September 1st to the 23rd, why not come on up, over or down, book a spot of accom and jump right in!

A wonderland in the botanic gardens

For more information: https://www.brisbanefestival.com.au/whats-on/2023

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Travelling with your buds made easy…

‘Practice the fine art of shuttle diplomacy. Don’t bicker over breakfast. Include a wildcard. Aperitivo is Italian for bottomless brunch. Drop the intermittent fasting. And do not, for heaven’s sake, Splitwise.’ 

Hello lovely readers; why am I inspired by such sage advice from the vacation guru – David Prior? (A man known for org

anising groups of strangers to have the time of their lives) Because dear reader, I’ve been invited to join a group holiday, and excited though I am, we need to talk about the rules of engagement.

When my dear friends invited us to join them and a dozen or so of their nearest and dearest to celebrate a milestone birthday aboard a Yacht cruising along the Croatian coast, I squealed, ‘hell yeah!’ The silver fox, with face aghast, exclaimed, ‘hell no!! 

If you’re nodding at my man’s declaration, yet the agenda sounds too exciting to pass up, fear not. It can be an absolute blast if the right mutually decided rules are established, agreed upon and adhered to. When done well, a seamless mix of fun, relaxation, and exotic locales can be fun. Sunset cocktails overlooking the Mediterranean with a rocking soundtrack, locally sourced dishes and animated bruise comparisons after a day banging around that yacht’s deck, anyone? 

Sounds fabulous. But what about the things no one likes to discuss, such as money, habits, expectations, familiarity, group v solo time, room size, agendas etc.? Is there a secret to ensuring all that fabulousness? Yes there is!

EXPECTATIONS

‘Diplomacy, yes; however, the first rule of group travel is: This is not a democracy. There isalways a ringleader with a clear idea of where the group should go. Before committing to anything, think about where you are in your life. Are you coming off a super stressful work time and want to be blissed out with tropical waters and nothing but mellow? (In this case, French Polynesia, Sardinia, or Antigua might be the go) Or are you looking for activity and action? (Perhaps Croatia, Iceland or Costa Rica). Does the chosen agenda match your headspace?  

FAMILIARITY

Old friendships can mean a lot of history, but intimacy can breed conflict. After all, the whole point of going on holidays with others is to avoid the kind of breakfast table drama that can blow up a family vacation. “There can be so much gossip and showing off with groups of friends,” says George Scott, who owns the Andalusian guesthouse Trasierra with his sister Gioconda and organises group horse rides with stays in old farmhouses.

What does that history look like? Will too much familiarity be an issue?  Possible to put diplomacy front and centre?

MONEY

The trickiest issue is how much everyone will spend, say, on a villa in Bali or Santorini for a week. “One of the things that can make a group vacation weird or tense is money because people have different capabilities and levels of comfort around it,” says Ezra Woods, who co-owns the L.A.-based showroom Pretend By Appointment (this man goes on many group trips with an eclectic mix of folk and associated budgets). How will the monetary side be addressed?

Ezra has found a few successful formulas: Everyone splits accommodation equallyand then it’s nice if friends take turns hosting meals or activities.” (His inspiration for that was The Real Housewives.) “This way, someone can host a dinner for 10 people one night or pick up the tickets to an archaeological site or massages at the villa for everyone. Maybe another friend with more resources could rent a boat for the day.” He recommends cutting it off at one or two items on the itinerary daily. This isn’t a sightseeing bus tour or a class trip. “It’s grating when you feel obligated to participate in everything. 

SCHEDULE

If someone is overscheduling, set expectations from the outset. Say, ‘I’m so excited, but I sense that I’m not going to be interested in doing every group activity,” says Christopher Golden, a yoga teacher in New York who plans retreats (Provence! St. Lucia! Oaxaca!) and goes on his fair share of trips with friends. “If I’m in Cape Cod with a crew, and everyone wants to go to the beach, but I don’t, it’s nice to say no, and suddenly I have this huge house to myself. That’s when I really feel like I’m on vacation.” Comfortable setting your own pace?

PRIVACY

Private space is essentialwhether that means having a room to yourself or not staying together. Travelling as a group for adults does not have to be a slumber party. Golden went to Paris with friends one spring, and part of what made it successful was that five people stayed at a mix of hotels and rented apartments. Some would pilgrimage to Dries Van Noten together, others to the Pompidou, but there was no pressure to do any of it. Every night they came together for long dinners that started with seafood towers and steak frites and ended with cheese courses and pavlovas, and they talked about their days. A room of one’s own can also avert disaster: everyone getting sick of one particular person, whether the reason is the person is high-strung or won’t stop talking or is a chronic complainer. What level of privacy will you need?

PREFERENCES

This brings up another important though often unspoken rule: It’s wise to have a shared level of hedonism. Some folk like to work out every day on holidays, while others don’t. Some want to maintain their Gwyneth Paltrow–esque intermittent fasting regime no matter what. Some want to dance till dawn at a club and then continue partying back at the digs. Some would rather die than part with their phones for an hour (or, worse still, lose service altogether). There are no correct answers. To travel well together, you don’t need cohesion, but you do need to be able to coexist happily. Looking at your fellow travellers, feel you can coexist?

CHEMISTRY

Ultimately, the perfect group to vacation together is like the ideal blend of dinner party guests. It’s about chemistry, but also some wildcards and surprises. Up for it?

So am I going? I would love to, however having enjoyed that same journey pre-Covid, albeit on a slightly bigger boat (you can read about that here: Sailing the Adriatic) my travel lust is begging for new territory – Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Finland – or maybe southern Italy and Turkey, or possibly boarding the newly opened Orient Express from Paris to Opatija – so much to see, so little time! Followed by finding my ‘post cruise’ beloved friends and celebrating that birthday. 

I hope you all have a lovely holiday in mind and why not drop a line and tell us about your best or worst group travel experience?

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Top Five Clever Traveller Stopovers…

Dubai Miracle Garden (image – bader_almuqbali – Instagram)

Hi, lovely readers; damn, I’m excited to be planning trips again, aren’t you? Not so enthusiastic about swapping out those tediously long lockdowns with tediously long flights, though. Nor exiting that winged baby looking like I’ve just gone 15 rounds in the Hadron Collider; an unfortunate side effect of long-haul flights.

If, like me, your budget and hard-won frequent flyer points don’t extend to turning left as you board, why not capitalise on your flight stopover?

Once viewed as the annoying but necessary fuelling pit-stop on the way to somewhere exciting, stopover cities are gaining popularity as the perfect place to enjoy a little restoration while minimising beginning and end-of-journey jet lag. As most have as much magic to share as your final destination, I’ve rounded up the top five and added a few culturally enriching gigs to your itinerary. 

Dubai, United Arab Emirates:

Burj Khalifa

A tour of the world’s tallest building, the Burj Khalifa, to give yourself a good dose of oxygen deprivation and, by night, the spectacular light show. Pop an antihistamine and check out the Dubai Miracle Garden, home to over 45 million flowers. Go ice skating at The Dubai Mall, followed by a spin around the underwater zoo. Try snow skiing in the Mall of the Emirates and reward yourself for emerging limbs intact with a spot of bling shopping. Face it, there’s something cool about saying you’ve been snow skiing in a desert, right? Speaking of the desert, take an extra day for a Desert Safari to experience the region’s unique landscape.

Singapore:

Changi Airport is one of the world’s best airports, and once you’ve sampled the delectable fare, enjoyed the shop-till-you-drop vibe, the Butterfly Garden and taken a dip in the rooftop swimming pool, it’s time to head out. Ideally, lock in a few days to marvel at The Gardens by the Bay, the Marina Bay Sands SkyPark and the Promenade. The Night Zoo, and the newly furbished pastel-toned Peranakan Museum celebrating Peranakan (orStraits Chinese) culture and history, fashion, architecture, homeware and more. Oh, and the freshly refurbished Raffles just to snap a selfie with an overpriced but iconic Singapore Sling.

Marina Bay Sands (image – yolo_gang_2 – Instagram)

Marina Bay Sands (image – yola_gang_2 – Instagram)

Marina Bay Sands (images yolo_gang_2 – Instagram)

Hong Kong:

Here, you can ride the famous Star Ferry and prepare to be struck by the sheer size of the lush mountains soaring behind the elegant towers. Take the ferry towards the city at night to see the mesmerising Symphony of Lights. Visit Victoria Peak for breathtaking city skyline views (provided it’s a smog-free day). Get lost in the Temple Street Night Market and dig into the traditional handmade crafts, admire the jade jewellery sparkling under the market’s neon lights, and chow down on the best cheap eats in the city while barely spending a cent.

Symphony of Lights (image – zirosou – Instagram)

Istanbul, Turkey:

The perfect stopover when flying between Europe and Asia, the Blue Mosque, famous for the intricate blue tile work covering the interior, is an excellent place to start. Pick the jaw off the floor from there and head over to the Hagia Sophia. Constructed in 537 AD and considered the most outstanding architectural achievement of the Byzantine Empire. Stroll through the Grand Bazaar, one of the world’s oldest and largest covered markets, and don’t exit before indulging in kebabs, baklava, and a smidge of Turkish delight.

Blue Mosque (image seagulleye34 – Instagram)

Seoul, South Korea:

Bukchon Hanok Village (southkorea.explores – Instagram)

This place is positively pumping! Start with one of the city’s most iconic landmarks, the Changdeokgung Palace, for the breathtaking secret garden, landscaped lawns, ornate pavilions and lotus pond. Continue getting your culture on by touring the traditional Bukchon Hanok Village and charming Jogyesa Temple. Check out the Gwangjang Market, a jolly convenient place to sample Korean food at its best. Tteokboki (sweet and spicy rice cakes), bindaetteok (mung bean pancakes), and mayak gimbap (seaweed rolls) washed down with some makgeolli (rice wine). Avoid a food coma and take a break from all that sightseeing at the Insa-dong. While there, pick up some traditional Korean souvenirs – especially during the weekly Saturday market.  

Worth spending a few days at your layover spot, don’t you think? And you’ve just added an extra country to your travel repetoir Tell us about your favourite stopovers?

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Five travel blogs that make my heart sing…

Hello lovely readers! Yearning to scratch that travel itch? Me too! So many places to go, people to see, views to snap, exotic foods to consume, i simply can’t decide where to next.

You see, the silver fox, a Naval man with a story for every port in the world, primarily swaggering through posh hotels (aiming to attract women who can’t resist a sharp Richard Geresque white uniform I’m sure), is a tad meh! ‘Your choice Jano.’ So do I revisit existing highlights (all things European) to inspire and annoy in equal measure, or do we make new memories together? Research required stat!

Drawing inspo from my favourite travel blogs, I realised there’s a lot about travel that I’m not an expert on. Family destinations? No idea. Travelling solo? A little bit. Information on hotels? Only a little. Photography? My trusty iPhone. Food expert? Only to consume it. While researching I came across even more exciting blogs from people who CAN answer those questions; and as you might be after a little inspo as well, here are my top 5:

The Blonde Abroad

The minute you subscribe to The Blonde Abroad you’re greeted with Kiki’s favourite destinations with a focus on photography, food, culture and adventure. The safest cities to travel alone, top Safari destinations in Africa, best Scuba Dives, best Girlfriend getaways. Beautifully presented, inspirational, you can just feel Kiki’s passion pulling at your travel heart strings.

I Am Aileen

Aileen Adalid is behind the cool site I Am Aileen. Gorgeous design, ethereal photos, Aileen is the epitomy of a successful digital nomad with a mission to show us that no matter the odds, it is entirely possible to create a life of non-stop travel and establish financial independence with remote work. Check her site out for the destination guides, hints and tips and humble lessons.

Salt in Our Hair

Nick and Hannah are two creatives from The Netherlands, Salt in Our Hair is their baby, and if you’re looking for Asian, European, African, Central and South America and Middle Eastern inspiration, look no further. Their Instagram imagery so inspired I just had to subscribe! While garnering inspiration from their insightful recommendations, check their Insta out here:  #saltinourhair

12HRS

Have a destination in mind, a limited itinerary and unsure where to start? 12HRS provides you with 12hr long itineraries that encapsulate the best of the best to see in one handy schedule. Less sightseeing, more wandering. Cool stores instead of tourist traps. Luxury when you want it and bargains when you least expect them. You can just feel their love for fashion, design, great food and even better coffee.

Hand Luggage Only

Yaya and Lloyd upped their Facebook holiday snap share competitiveness while at Cambridge by collaborating their stories into this one spectacular site Hand Luggage Only. Just reading their bios makes you want to follow. And that’s what I did. Not unlike 12 hours, these guys give you 10 things to do when visiting… sometimes 11 because why not? Hints, tips, hacks, advice and a cracking good journalling comes with their destinations. Check them out here: Hand Luggage Only

Now you have a glorious feast of suggestions from which to draw a little inspiration. Me? I’m hovering between Spain (the Catalonian region), Portugal and Morocco, the nordic countries or the southern tip of Italy (thanks ‘The White Lotus’ season two!) 🙂 Drop us a line on where you’re planning to brave the 24 hour flight for a fabulous holiday…

 

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Why travel?

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Beating the post holiday blues…

Hi, there lovely readers, let’s talk about post-holiday blues. I get them, don’t you? Seems my friends do too. Over a recent lazy lunch, the girls and I were hoping to enjoy a vicarious holiday via our ‘just returned from a three-week European break’ friend. Instead, she confessed ‘It all went so fast, I feel like I have permanent jetlag!’ As we toasted ‘jetlag’ (any excuse) we ruminated on the question – how can we hold onto the buzz of a holiday rather than succumb to post-hol malaise?    

A spot of research via fellow travellers, travel-loving bloggers and my own experiences resulted in three magic words. Nature. Detox. Ritual.

NATURE

Some years ago I took a six-month sabbatical; to mourn, rest, rejuvenate and to test my solo mettle. The Cinque Terra, the five old fishing villages perched high on the Italian Riviera in the Liguria region of Italy became my home, the locals my friends, nature my saviour. You see, the last words my husband, a passionate yachtie, shared with me before he sailed permanently over the horizon were “Think of me at sunset babe and know I’ll be thinking of you.” The Mediterranean sunsets were so spectacular, finding the best observation vantage point became an obsession. On some eves I’d share my day with him, fond memories too, on others I’d sit in quiet contemplation and simply marvel at the glorious hues of rose and magenta, cerulean blue and indigo as the sky and ocean became one. A calming, spiritually cleansing ritual and one I continue to this day.

Sneak away from your fellow travellers, immerse yourself in a spot of nature and notice how your mind and body feel as you begin to relax into your surroundings. The meditative sound of the surf tumbling pebbles along the shoreline; the subtle colour shifts as sky and ocean become one at sunset; the gentle luft of a lone yacht passing by. Sparkles on water, sunlight filtering through treetops, the scent of unfurling blossoms, cacophony of bird calls at dusk. All so obvious, yet how often do we give ourselves permission to truly absorb these moments?

Taking the time to do this can be equivalent to clearing our mental slate and eliminating the noise of “busyness” that often plagues us. Unlike the stimulation of a large, bustling city, it’s a chance to process your thoughts and allow new ideas to emerge. 

DETOX  

Possible to hide your devices and detox? Possible yes, but not always plausible, depending on your personal circumstances. I use my phone to document observations, take snaps, an offline map to find my way around and, at times, Spotify to add a soundtrack to my day.  But scroll my socials? No.

During a European trip with friends, our daily ritual was simple. Share the day’s photos over a G&T when we landed at our next digs. Discuss everyone’s favourite highlights over dinner. Document the best over a nightcap. Recap and refine the resulting blog post over breakfast. Post. Can we remember almost every aspect of that holiday – absolutely! Friends followed the blog, the blog auto-posted to the socials and anyone interested could follow the journey from either option. Those who have adopted the habit say they love the way this keeps them focused on their adventures rather than scrolling.

If writing isn’t your gig, a quick daily round-up of observations in a journal and curation of favourite images gives solo you, or you and your travel buddies, a chance to relive the day in glorious colour. 

Friends also say that if you’re self-employed and feel the need to check in with work, resist the urge. Instead empower your team to make decisions on your behalf and inform them that, bar the building burning down, they’ve got this!  If you feel you must check in, select a specific time frame and stick with it. Creating solid boundaries around technology can help you remain in the present and give your mind that much-needed break.

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Oh for the love of travel…

Lovely readers, travel is back on the agenda and I’m so excited! You see, I live to travel, I revel in writing, and Indulge Divulge, launched way back in 2013, has been the perfect platform for combining the two. Until COVID.

As we embraced lockdown I ‘pivoted’ (seriously, how could I not exploit the most overused word of that period huh?) to share hints and tips for living a life filled with elegance and passion via the blog’s additional topics; fuelled by your brilliant suggestions and feedback. From career inspiration to personal confessions, a sanity check during those dark days, and available via the menus should you wish to dive in.  But back to travel!

Indulge Divulge ignited the desire to jump off the tourist junket and explore and write about the lesser-known parts of the countries and cities I’ve had the privilege of visiting. Living with the locals in the fishing villages of Italy’s Cinque Terre; seeking the space invader tile montages tucked away in the back streets of Paris; marvelling at the soft hues of Florence; revelling in the Mediterranean sunsets on the Cote d’Azur; gasping in awe as Mt Fujiyama briefly peeked through her misty shroud; climbing the walls of Dubrovnik; singing wildly out of key with a Venetian gondolier… I could go on but that would be just too tossy. I’ll let my stories do the talking.

If you’ve been to those places yourself, a joyful reminder of your own experiences, potential inspiration if building your future travel agenda or simply a chance to vicariously enjoy my ramblings from the comfort of your sofas.

I’m already plotting the next journey and can’t wait to share and inspire again. Of course, my beloved Paris will again be on the agenda, accompanied by the silver fox; after all Paris – the city of lights – is also known as the city of love!

Stay tuned lovely readers, meanwhile enjoy a few blasts from the travel past…

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Off the beaten Parisian path…

Friends heading to Europe for Xmas recently asked, ‘Jane, how long should we spend in Paris and what’s to do?’ ‘Why at least two weeks, ideally six months, a year, forever; so much to see in this fine city!’ Said I. Pondering my frankly unhelpful Francophillian response, I gave the query serious thought:

Three days?

The Big Red Bus for a city highlights reconnaissance just to get the bearings. The Eiffel Tower’s pretty sparkles, preferably viewed from the top of the Trocadero. The Arc de Triumph and a prayer for the unnamed soldier beneath. The Champs Élysées for fabulous Xmas fairy lights, Laudree Macarons, the Louis Vuitton Flagship store, Ferrari, Mont Blanc and Sephora.

The Grand and the Petite Palais for pure palace awesomeness. Palace Opera’s ornate mirrored glitz and bodaciously luxe tassels. The Louvre – Mona’s wing. Notre Dame, stand on point zero and admire her pure majesty. Sacre Coeur up there on the hill, mounted by the stairs, followed by a wander through the artists (at non peak to avoid the hustlers). Galleries la Fayette for that stunning domed ceiling. Fueled with plenty of fortification while seated on those cute little red wicker chairs on the Bistro footpaths of course.

Five days?

Add a day trip to Chateau de Versailles for an even bigger palace fix. Napoleon’s Tomb , Place de Voges, the Musee de Orsay, L’Orangerie and Pompidou for extra hits of visual culture. A wander in the Jardins des Tuileries and Jardins des Luxembourg to park your green chair wherever takes your fancy amidst the lush gardens, ponds, statues and Sunday boules players. The Latin Quarter. Bon Marche for the pleasure of feeling your credit card’s sphincter muscle contract. Fueled by still more French fare and people watching over a glass of wine or five.

 Already ticked these boxes? Time to dig a little deeper into the less touristy fare. My top 10 suggestions:

1) Rue de l’Abreuvoir –  it would be remiss to neglect this picturesque road as you wander around Montmartre, followed by Avenue Junot, very chic and along here you will find ‘Pass-muraille’ – the man who could walk through walls.

2) The Je t’aime wall – while still in the region, wander Place des Abbesses, find the small public garden (Square Johan Rictus) and admire ‘Le mur des Je t’aime’  where you’ll find ‘I love you’ written in 311 languages…tres romantic in the city of…well um…romance? For more detail: Jacques and Jane discover the Je T’aime wall

3) Le Moulin de la Gallete – while still in the Montmartre region you’ll find this elegant sister to the Moulin Rouge. One of only two other windmills left in Paris, this one houses a rather elegant restaurant.

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Ten delightful environmental developments just for you

Hello lovely readers. As most of you are aware, my blog centres on nurturing in all its forms,  whether that be at work or at play, hence a post about environmental developments may seem a little at odds. Well, I say anything that might offer joy, as this omnipresent virus continues to disrupt life as we know it, has to be worth sharing and these will simply delight you. Straight from ‘Window on the World’, a thoughtfully penned article sharing David Attenborough’s career and his opinions on the future of our earth. (Mindfood June/July 2020). Enjoy!

Welcome to our oceans Whales

Image - Stephen Fink/Getty ImagesThe whales are coming out to play...

There are reports that whales have been spotted away from their usual routes and habitats, thanks to a decrease in the number of boats on the ocean. According to experts, they are now exploring new areas. Likely contributing to an increase in sighted whales on our coastline too. [Image – Stephen Fink/Getty Images]

Revved to see your reef work Australia

Our reef is being restored…Image - Zach Ransom/Coral Restoration Foundation

While tours are closed, scuba divers in the Great Barrier Reef have joined forces with scientists to help restore vital coral reefs. The operators are now using their boats to ferry the scientists to coral nurseries. [Image – Zach Ransom/Coral Restoration Foundation]

Terrific to learn about your Trees Pakistan

Trees are being planted…Image - Junaid Ali/CC

Thousands of out-of-work labourers in Pakistan have been hired by the government to plant trees for the 10 Billion Tree Tsunami project. This project was launched in 2014 as a response to global warming. What a great way to keep people employed, as well as rejuvenating mother nature’s lungs. [Image – Junaid Ali/CC]

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Japan – a spot of lyrical waxing…

So what was the highlight of your trip?’ Aargh! How often are we asked this question? Yearning to deliver a blow by blow reminisce supported by just 500 of your carefully curated photos; scrabbling to single out specifics, all the while wondering if the querist is genuinely curious or merely appeasing the post-holiday excitement emanating from your persona? A little of all I suspect lovely readers and being the gratuitous oversharing person that I am, I’ll oblige. With not one but three!

Given my little trip was a nine-day Japan Classics with an agenda as packed as a pub on a public holiday, and covering a mere fraction Japan has to offer – just being in a country where my grasp on the language being zero was a highlight. So too, experiencing the inhabitants treating their land, each other and you with the most profound respect. Where food presentation, delivery and consummation is an artform, slurping considered a compliment and chopstick placement significant. Where Mt Fuji, a deity, is referred to as shy, where deer bow for favours, temples abound, and blossoms have profound significance. Almost 100% literacy rate, unemployment at just 4%, the second lowest homicide rate in the world. What’s not to love?

Three Highlights

1) The ‘Symphony of Light’ Kimonos

Itchiku Kubota wanted to live to be 120. That how long the textile master estimated it would take him to complete his life’s work, a series of elaborately handcrafted kimonos, which, when hung side by side, will form a panorama celebrating the four seasons and the cosmos.

At the age of 14, Kubota began studying yuzen (rice-paste resist), six years later stumbling across a 350-year-old fragment of elegantly patterned cloth in the Tokyo National Museum. ‘Trembling in the face of such mastery and refinement’ he related, he stood transfixed for three hours. ‘I encountered a source of boundless creativity which revealed to me my calling’.

Later, incarcerated in a Siberian prisoner of war camp, he observed sunsets that he hoped one day to emulate on his kimonos using the technique he’d identified on that tiny piece of cloth – tsujigahana. A complicated method of tie-dyeing embellished with intricate embroidery, elaborate brush painting, sumi ink drawing and gold-leaf application. Post-release, 20 years attempting to replicate that lost art, Kubota eventually perfected his particular technique, referred to as ‘illusionary dyeing.

Each Kimono takes up to two years to complete, an atelier of artisans to help and 40 of his intended 80, called the ‘Symphony of Light’ can be found at the Itchiku Kubota Art Museum, a gallery he built to showcase the work. Hung side by side, the kimonos create a panoramic landscape, the intricacy of each taking my breath away. It will you too. His son continues the collection. Impressive!

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Temples, Geisha, hot springs and all things gold…

‘Ikura desu ka?’ How much does it cost? ‘How can you put a price on such beauty? A fair response for I’m talking about the absolutely stunning Kimonos depicting intricately detailed inked and dyed scenes that have taken up to two years to craft lovely readers. Just one of the highlights on the Kyoto to Osaka leg of the journey. Gallery’s, temples, hot springs, foods that initiate Instagram frenzy, bamboo forests, Geisha; such a culturally rich journey is this. A few highlights, all wrapped in shades of gold, with full stories for those interested in a deeper dive coming shortly:

Being blinded by The Kinkaku (The Golden Pavilion) / Rokuon-Ji Temple

Marvelling at the Tsujigahana-Dyed Kimonos in the ‘Symphony of Light’ exhibit at the Itchiku Kubota Museum, simply breathtaking. Stay tuned for the full story. (Oh! And photos sadly not permitted, this one found on Google)

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Yukata, Ginza, Rickshaws and more…

Konichawa my lovelies! Been wandering amidst the blossoms, examining a palace, wallowing in hot springs, dining in Kimonos (Yukata), marvelling at the shy Mt Fuji, paying homage to the Healing Village, admiring the muscles on our Rickshaw man, scuttling across the crazy Shibuya four ways in the Harijuku, window shopping in the Ginza, searching for Robots. Yep! A tad busy this past 48 hours; fuelled of course with Udon, Ramen, Sashimi, Shabu-Shabu, Yakiniku and a whole raft of curious foods we’re yet to identify.

Now on the bullet train to Kyoto (then Biwako) hoovering a bento box, supping champers and silently marvelling at the chaos of the Tokyo we’ve left behind, the consistently faultless service and the historic complexity and scenic majesty that constitutes Japan. A few highlights (will update with interesting info when this crazy gig eases up)

Imperial Palace East Gardens – fabulous colour shows and serene koi ponds…

 

Lake Kawaguchi:

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Shinjuku, Sake and robots…

Irasshaimase (welcome) to Japan lovely readers. As you know the blog was founded on travel and my, how I’ve missed making a toss of myself in foreign lands! So why Japan? A mission to explore a culture renowned for its respectful nature, where each task is executed with pride, where the food is intricately presented, the service immaculate…and technology abounds. Ok enough about waxing lyrical, let’s explore yeah? Starting with Shinjuku, Tokyo.

Quick brekky of omelette stuffed with rice and doorstop bread with soft fried egg (consumed with chopsticks – reputation intact) in a local before navigating through narrow, tangled telephone line canopied streets into an electronics store. In search of a baby robot. Seven hours, 42 escalators, 3 department stores, 3 Starbucks frappes (for the wifi) – didn’t find the robot. Did find an Oyster bar with happy hour!

Why not said we! An assortment, from Ireland, Washington, Japan and NZ please; washed down with a tidy little rose which led to a slightly frenzied food and bar fest in a maze of over 100 teensy wee bars in the Golden Gai (“Golden District”)

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Tea ceremonies, cherry blossoms and robots…

Hey lovelies, we’re off on another adventure…to a country renowned for the depth of its gentle, respectful culture. To explore the juxtaposition between traditional tea ceremonies, Geisha, Zen gardens, tatami mats, bathhouses, Sake, cherry blossoms …and baby robots – Japan.

Come with me on the journey as I post via the blog and Instagram! (@jinnylizzz)

Jane x

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‘O Sole Mio’…or not?

Venice. How can one visit this mystical city without stepping into one of those sleek black Gondolas at least once? Quietly gliding beneath one or two of the 409 bridges that span the 150 plus channels, linking the 117 small islands that constitute Venice while enjoying the soothing baritone of your Gondolier’s narration. Admiring the softly decaying brick facades with petticoats of lush green moss while trailing fingers in the clear aqua marine waters as your Gondolier croons a sweet ballad. Sigh! While standing atop one of the bridges watching the many Gondolas gliding deftly beneath, I became a tad curious. Why are they all black? What does that pointy thing on the stern symbolize, and why are the Gondoliers male?

image

A spot of sleuthing later and here’s the low down:

Although always black (six coats) – the result of a 17th century law a doge enacted to eliminate competition between nobles for the fanciest machine – each Gondola has unique upholstery, trim and detailing but with just three flourishes – a curly tail, a pair of seahorses and a multi pronged prow. The six horizontal lines and curved top of the prow represent Venice’s six districts and the doge’s funny cap. Each one weighs 700g, has 280 components and uses eight types of wood. Interestingly they are slightly lopsided and bow out on the left, this asymmetry causing the Gondola to resist the tendency to turn toward the left at the forward stroke and compensates for the weight of the gondolier who stands in the stern and rows only on the right side.

image

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Sailing the Adriatic – a blogger’s pit stop diary

Dear Blog Diary…about this Athens – Venice cruise. How are we to share the excitement of seven days aboard a snazzy ship with Greek Island and Croatian pit stops when on board wifi is so damn satellite exy? FB snapshots backed up with a spot of diary musings for later free wifi gratuitous blog over-sharing natch! A good thing lovely readers for I suspect excessive complementary cocktails may just compromise a girl’s writing skills (sorry – not sorry). For the curious, here are the outcomes:

Tuesday: Throw the ropes off, good bye Athens, 4.30pm, 235 fellow passengers, heading for the Corinth Canal. Rather spech boat the Le Lyrical, brushing up on French, the ship’s first language. View the ship being gently guided through the canal by the ‘tiny tugboat that could’ on top deck. Accompanied by a Violinist. And French champagne. And a great deal of oh la la! Hit the cabin doona 11pm a little bit tipsy on excitement and exhaustion…and champers…and that nightcap in the piano bar.

Just a little curious about the Corinth Canal? Well the canal connects the Gulf of Corinth with the Saronic Gulf in the Aegean Sea. Cutting through the narrow Isthmus of Corinth, it separates the Peloponnesian peninsula from the Greek mainland, thus effectively making the former an island.

The canal is 6.4 kilometers in length, only 21.3 meters wide at its base, earth cliffs flanking either side reach up to 63 meters in height. A dream that dates back over 2000 years, finally accomplished 1893.  Ironically, aside from a few modest sized cruise ships like the Le Lyrial, the Corinth Canal is unserviceable to most modern ships. Damn fine place for bungy jumping though! There you go.

Wednesday: Anchor off Zakinthos, Greece. Leisurely breakfast on pool deck, board the shore excursion boat, wander around with vague intent on buying a hat, nope, shops closed, it’s siesta time. Substitute with a G&T or three, free wifi in a hip little cafe and a snap shot or two.

The interesting stuff: Inhabited from the Neolithic age. Homer, the famous Greek poet mentioned Zakynthos in his masterpieces the Iliad and the Odyssey. Lots of conquering along the way.

Tolmides, the Athenian military commander concluded an alliance with the Island between 446 and 459 BC during the First Peloponnesian War to source tar from the island’s lakes to protect the planking on their shipping fleet. Better than pitch which is made from pine trees.

And did you know that during Nazi occupation of Greece, the Mayor and Bishop at the time refused Nazi orders to turn in the town’s Jewish community for deportation to the death camps, instead hiding all 275 of them in rural villages. All survived.

Also prime nesting area for loggerhead sea turtles. Also known for the beautiful Navagio beach and limestone caves. We’ll be checking out similar tomorrow.

Finish day with cocktail of the day (Apple-Tizer), Captain’s own welcome cocktail (free for all – choices, choices!), Gala dinner in posh restaurant, check out the pianist (stardust memories), crash.

Thursday: Paxos ‘n Antipaxos smallest group of Ionian Islands, brilliant azure blue waters, pretty villages, wall to wall yachts, sunburnt snouts. 

First up fresh juice, bespoke omelette, coffee then grab ship provided Palms (fins) face-masks and snorkels, towels and water, slap on sunscreen and swim-suits and jump aboard a smaller boat to explore Paxos and Antipaxos. Limestone caves, startlingly clear aqua waters, beach pebbles that tickle underfoot, bombs straight off the back of the boat and a bunch of sun crazed water lovers making for a fun, pleasantly exhaustive day.

According to Greek mythology, Poseidon created the island by striking Corfu with his trident, so that he and wife Amphitrite could have some peace and quiet. Peaceful. Quiet. Poseidon nailed it.

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All aboard! 

The Le Lyrial. One of the French company Ponant’s fleet, a petite ship carrying maximum 235 passengers plus crew. And a mighty crew it is, 148 to be exact. Photographers, beauticians, cabin attendants and wait staff; Chefs (12), bar tenders, musicians and dancers, excursion managers and engineers; our ship’s captain Olivier Marien and a cluster of crisp white clad officers.

Captain Marien looks way too young but exudes an air of confidence that tells us we’re not likely to do a ‘Costa’ any time soon. Proven as he and his team steer the ship deftly through the Corinth Canal aided by just one small tug-boat, the walls so close you could reach out and caress their rough lime surfaces. A spectacular experience enhanced with champagne and the strains of an accomplished violinist. One classy boat this! Or should I say ‘Tout à fait magnifique!’

But first we board (Athens), settle in, oooh and ahhh, take photos of cabin, ocean, heck anything that doesn’t move, knowing full well post holiday photo audience are already stifling yawns. Attend recon in the ship’s theatre announced in both French and English followed by life vest exercise where voice in head wonders exactly what that bit might be for followed by another exclaiming ‘dragging you back out of the water idiot!’ Note six months worth of French classes flinging themselves overboard…sans vests.

Choose this eve’s restaurant, forward deck? Pool deck? Decisions, decisions. Instead settle on sipping cocktail of the day up top while toning down slightly bogan voice in head screaming ‘Free alcohol? I LOVE this ship!’ Gazing at the French flag wafting gently in a softly muted sunset breeze, accompanied by a jazz singer with thigh gap and slinky Sade moves, I pause to admire the stippled wash of the ship’s wake. Reminds me of Wagu steak, fine dining tonight it is. Pinch self. My trusty travel bud Jen exclaims ‘If a girl’s gotta do a cruise, might as well do it in style yeah?’ A toast to her for choosing this gig. And to the coming days. And to…us…and you.


Now dedicated readers listen up. Dodgy ocean faring wifi will require temporary default to brief Facebook brags for fam and friends keen to enjoy a day by day account of Greek Island and Croatian onshore gigs. For those keen to learn more or contemplating a similar cruise, stay tuned for one biggie blog sharing a tad more detail, straight to you from our disembarking destination (Venice).

Bon voyage to me, love to youuuu! X

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Sunsets and shopping the Santorini way..

So what’s a girl to do on the Isl of Santorini after a slog of shopping other than gaze at glorious Sunsets from her eyrie atop the volcanic ridge? Drop on down and view one from sea level of course. And what better way to do so than via a sleek cataramaran huh? So said half the island! I’m talking wall to wall catamarans, though no two the same, our discerning Aneon Villa hosts Alexandra, George and team selecting the best on which to luxuriate. And that’s exactly what we did. Heck why not, that’s what holidays are for yes?

If your popping said jaunt on your Santorini ‘must do’ list, may I suggest jumping on board the brand new 560 semi-private. A 22 person limit ‘spread yourself all over the decks’ wine in hand fest that most other cats don’t afford. Leisurely swims, snorkeling, drinkies and BBQ feasting while moored along side a red beach, a white one and a batch of hot springs for good measure. Oh! And a sail past Indian rock, Acrotiri and Aspronsi as well as the volcano and the Caldera cliffs of Imerogivli (where our home resides) and Oia, the perfect possie from which to watch that imitable sunset. Disembarking at Ammoudi harbour no mean feat as cat upon cat queue obediently to shed their sunburnt and slightly dazed cargo into the chaotic traffic. Not us for we are whisked away in a private van and dropped right on our doorstep. Too civilised by half.  (Sunset Oia Cruises)


Meanwhile, while Jen’s examining the shops or seeking shelter from the relentless sun, I’m climbing to the top of turrets, running down cobbled steps, dodging donkeys and tourists in my path to snap just one more shot. Just one more. Here’s a few faves:


Next stop…the cruise.

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Santorini – infinity and beyond

Brilliant white villas enhanced with hues of blue and vibrant magenta bougainvillea atop a raw volcanic precipice tumbling into an ocean of the deepest sapphire blue. Santorini. The Greek Islands. You could conclude all that for yourself via Instagram but hey, if your planning on enjoying a vicarious holiday through my blog, gonna have to expect a tad of lyrical waxing.


That infinity pool? Our first day a compulsory relax, cocktail(s) in hand after a speed sleep in Anthens following a manic 140k spin from airport to city via a crazy Greek taxi driver fancying himself a formula one champ. This off the back of a 27 hour flight making for delirious giggling on our part. But I digress, about that pool!


Aenaon villas. A star spot in the Mr & Mrs Smith bible, stunningly simple and elegant, our hosts Alexandra and George and team sensing our every desire and damn they’re good at it. Positioned on the narrowest part of Imerovigli, Santorini, the villas offer the luxury of viewing both sunrise and sunset for which the islands are renowned, the latter from the cool waters of that very pool. And right now? Determining exactly where the ocean intersects with the sky through the shimmering mid summer haze, my new national pastime.

It’s a chaotic island teeming with cruise ship refugees swarming the narrow cobbled lanes lined with the usual jewelry, white linen and vibrant blue souvenirs depicting all things Greek that make up the main thoroughfares of Fira and Oia. The roads cluttered with on shore tourists on quad bikes weaving between buses and wary hire car folk like us. And that brilliant Agean Mediterranean, visible from almost every direction. Our eyrie a welcome respite after a day chanting ‘stay on the right, stay on the right!’




Of course you’re wanting to learn more about the olive tree that changed history. The three wineries where one can saviour ‘the unique volcanic taste and sea aromas’. The natural spring located inside the cave church of Zoodochos Pigi where one can quench one’s thirst after said wine. Nope. Saving that for later. Right now there’s a cataramaran waiting to whisk us away for one of those spectacular sunsets viewed from sea level. And wine! More wine.

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Four weeks four countries two friends…

Indulge Divulge was founded on one fabulous six week European trip where my travel buddies Fifi and Dicki kindly allowed Pixi (that’s me!) along for the ride, way back in 2013. During that journey I gained a fabulous reputation as back seat driver with the perfect falsetto for ‘Big Boys Don’t Cry’ (I bet you’re already singing it!) and blogger. Britain, France, Italy, Switzerland – so many of you joined us via the blog as we shared the fun, the idiotic, the food, the alcohol, the unusual, the breathtaking and the…did I mention alcohol?

More of you came on board two years later as Fifi and I checked out Bruges, checked into Barcelona, fell more in love with Paris then Florence in all her glorious hues. You became my loneliness relievers while I stayed on, spending six further months with the locals in fishing villages along the Italian and French coasts, under the pretext of writing my novel (it does exist and it will be finished), and concluding in Paris (well natch!).

In between, the blog’s theme morphed twice as IndulgeDivulge continued to be a vehicle for exercising my writing skills. My Dad was a journalist, my brother Evan is too, seems I’ve inherited the desire for gratuitous over sharing, made so much easier thanks to the wonderful folk who invented WordPress.

Well we’re off again! Heading out this evening. Join us as we stumble around the Greek Islands, cruise along Croatia (literally), sup Aperols in Venice then celebrate my big 60oh! in…you guessed it…Paris! Seriously, how could we not?  Where there’s Wifi there’ll be a post.

Oh! And given the uncertainty of this crazy world, should we not make it back, know that we love you all! To the moon and back (well Paris at least) xx

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Research darling, research!

Swanning around ancient European countries requires a savvy strategy if we are to justify enduring the 24+ hour airline food and movie fest sans sleep marathon don’t you think? Not to mention ensuring a glamorous entrance at our ancient cliff clinging quaintly cobbled village upon arrival. Now if you think getting stuck behind a pig parade is fun, consider trashing your best Louboutin heels par for the course or are still wondering why heavy baggage hefting isn’t yet an Olympian sport, stop reading now. For the rest of us…we need tactics. Big ones. And Google. Just a small amount of research can prevent a big amount of pain. Trust me, been there!

Research darling, research!

You’ve a list of places you’d love to visit while on that fab holiday and you’ve Googled highlights to add to your must see list. Now, seven further items worth the research:

1: Is the hamlet/village/township/city built upon level terrain, clinging cliffside or an ancient fortification perched atop a bloody great mountain?
Two weeks spent toting a heavy suitcase full of endless wardrobe possibilities up and down Italian cliff clinging villages and I was quickly packing excess into boxes homeward bound.

Solution: Pack light! Wanna know how? See: Packing like a sophisticate

2: Is it historic and thus likely paved with cobble stones?
The death knell for those gorgeous heels!

Solution: Thank god ballet flats are considered de rigueur in Europe!

3: Can it be easily accessed if one hasn’t a car?
Damn! Strike those gorgeous little villas in the Tuscan mountains, the lavender fields of Provence and anything else remotely remote off the list.

Solution: Day tours make great substitutes! I took one which started at a winery. Five tastings later and our party had morphed into one hilarious fun fest. For more on that crazy day and a little taste of the Luberon: Wine o’clock somewhere yeah?

4: Are there multiple platform swaps if traveling by train?
Most European trains have steps. The platforms have steps, few  of the smaller train stations have escalators and if there’s a lift, it’s usually broken. Platforms are mostly accessed via subterranean pathways. This means steps my friend. Steps!

Solution: Pack light! Allow plenty of time between connections (Oh! And here’s a story about a time I sat on a set of train steps with a bunch of perfect strangers eating pizza washed down with cheap red wine: You eez on zer wrong train Signora

5: How far is my chosen accommodation from the train/bu20131215-210108s/airport?

Just one baby jumping, phallus whacking,orange throwing, pig celebrating festival street closure and next thing your taxi driver is salivating as both meter and your flight climb heavenward right before your very eyes. (Spain, Greece, Italy, France)

Solution: Research festival and market activity scheduled at the time of your visit. Put Spain on future agenda – baby jumping is a must!

6: How close is the accommodation to the action?
The outskirts may be cheaper but a quick stroll directly through quaint streets into the hamlet heart and soul means a deeper, more culturally enriching experience.

Solution: Negate public transportation costs by choosing digs close to the hub of activity.

7: And if the hotel/villa/apartment isn’t on ground floor, does the building have a lift?
My traveling buddy’s hubby started divorce proceedings in a stairwell somewhere between the 9th and 14th floor of a particularly arduous curvy flight of timber stairs; though it must be said BOTH their bags weighed the equivalent of two dead bodies. The beauty of the actual apartment and a stiff G&T managed to stifle a potential screaming match. Just.

Solution: Need I say? Pack light!

 Logistics sorted? Prepped for a penis whacking? Anxious to avoid a divorce hearing? Keen to pack mega efficiently to make the most of that well earned holiday? You can do it!!

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Packing according to man…

My buddy and I will soon be sipping cocktails at sunset on the other side of the world. This means endless chats about what to pack. You see, my bud packs as if she’s on a one way ticket while I argue the case for whittling my wardrobe into just one Airline authorised carry on. Yep, I wanna pack like a man. Throw open a bag, shove a bundle of fave t’s ‘n jeans in, spare pair of sneakers, top off with a toothbrush, razor, after shave and Bob’s your uncle. That’s packing according to man. Good for them I say. Bastards.

As for we girlies…an outfit for breakfast, another for lunch, and for shopping, and sight seeing, beach, snow, dinner, concert, night club…per day. Every day.

imageI once spent two weeks in Bali surrounded by an explosion of outfit possibilities from which just three items lived on constant rotation. Sticky, yucky, hot, hot, hot. I left trails of sweat in my wake, not to mention the added discomfort of that post Brazilian experience. Errr let’s not go there. Let’s just say the enticing concept of the ‘Emperor’s New Clothing’ was thwarted only by a desire to protect the locals from visual trauma.

Similar situation on the opposite end of the temperature gauge while on a winter sojourn in Europe with late hubby. We lived in just two pairs of jeans, t’shirts on rotation under a woolen knit, a jacket, fur lined leather gloves, weather proof boots and two scarves. Wore the cute dress just once and froze my ass off. Didn’t help when matching one off heels threw me face down in a sleet filled gutter (nothing to do with that slight excess of mulled wine). Must admit, the jeans did make their own way home.

Which brings me to my point…

Pack light…seriously! Whether stumbling up stairs, hobbling across cobbles or streamlining across a smooth terrazzo, it just makes life easier. Period. Are you listening my lovely friend?

Only your travel buddy will know you survived in just two pairs of jeans, mixed it up with a couple of t-shirts and knits, a few fave scarves, a jacket and sweet little ankle boots. A water resistant hooded puffer jacket for inclement weather, or a $5 plastic emergency raincoat which makes for a bloody good laugh, your choice. Only she will know you wore the same little black dress, kitten heels and touch of bling for those glam evenings over and over. And will she care? No…’cos she’s being just as savvy!

Same goes for beach bound breaks. A pretty sarong and swim suit or two by day, a cute singlet cover up to sass the look in time for late afternoon aperitifs; a cotton shift, sandals and bling for lounging around beach side bistros sipping cocktails at sunset while batting lashes at bronzed hunks…oops, am I thinking out loud?

Inspired to pack light for your next holiday? Stay tuned! A few handy hints coming up cos’ for this trip? I’m gonna pack like a man!

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Friend affirming pre-trip tips

Major birthdays must be celebrated in grand style, preferably in a magnificent location and what better place for this Francophile to do so than in Paris? I know right? Plans have been hatched, a few additional countries attached, itinerary matched, tickets stashed and Jen ‘n Jane are now on count-down. Interestingly, I was recently asked if traveling with a bestie for extended periods of time might be a recipe for disaster? ‘Au contraire’ I retorted, we’re the perfect travel companions! Why? Well firstly let’s compare our (traveling) personalities.

DSC05274Jane: Dodgy sense of direction, trips over carpet patterns, struggles with foreign languages, techno-queen, obsesses over connectivity, cries at random moments, panics over missing flights, has public toilet, thunderstorm and tripe phobia, packs like a minimalist pro, can talk under water.

DSC05104Jenny: Reads maps upside down, falls off her heels, has a modicum of grasp on foreign languages, technophobic, slaps Jane when she cries, panics over missing flights, has public toilet, steak tartare and steep climb phobia, packs like a celebrity, can talk under water.

See? Perfect! And a good plan doesn’t go astray either.

Over a few too many Sangrias in the back streets of Barcelona, French Martinis on the Champs-Elysees, Beers in Belgium, Negronis in Florence, we’ve cemented a friendship that remains rock solid for we recognise our foibles and plan accordingly. Thanks to my beautiful traveling buddy’s careful research, project planning and our joint execution Jen and I have so far managed to avoid excessive public humiliation and Australian Embassy intervention.

How? Well before kissing off the fam at the departure gate, there’s a few basics one should always take care of. Some you might consider ‘suck egg’ while others might just save your marriage, bank balance, reputation, sanity or, as in our case, a dear friendship:

DSC055131) To avoid ‘Ignorant tourist, I spit on you!’ attitude from locals, we research our destinations in advance, gathering intelligence on:

  • History and culture – oh so that’s why the Frogs dislike the Poms!
  • Tourist high season – you want me to queue for two hours? Er, ain’t gonna happen!
  • Low season – why is everything we’ve travelled 24 hrs to see closed?
  • Seasonal weather – should I pack the puffer jacket as well as the bikini?
  • Dress code – what do I wear in sacred places?
  • Rules of behavior – so it’s illegal to photograph an Emirati then?
  • Transportation – seven train transfers to get from there to there? Nope!
  • Emergency numbers – you mean triple zero isn’t global?
  • Security status – angry people sporting guns, machetes and attitude? Steer clear!
    For high risk countries of course you’ll check the Govt’s smarttraveller.gov.au web site for up to date status on high risk countries.

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Utilising Word Lens, Google Translate and iSpeak (insert language) we’ve also managed to communicate without completely bastardising the local language.

2) To avoid ‘damn we ran out of time’ sobbing, we develop a rough list of places we’d like to go, foods to try and experiences in which to indulge through Like A Local, Viator and Townske apps, then check opening hours, accessibility and advance ticketing options to avoid queuing. We also categorize our list into ‘Must See’, ‘Nice to See’ and ‘If Time Permits’

3) Lists built, we lock our attractions in on CityMaps2Go, including accommodation address, determine proximity to other list items, check transportation options with apps like AllSubway  then hit the streets. But not before jumping on the big red (or green, or yellow) open tourist bus to conduct an advance recon.

Happy traveling folk! Hints of your own? Please share.IMG_4532

 

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Dear Paris, I love you but…

Dear Paris, I love you but…our relationship cannot last for I have met another.

It was a sad breakup, but what can I say? I know She’ll understand and forgive for She knows I always come crawling back. Before we parted however, we had just one final fling, a fitting finale to a fine romance and this is how it started…

Hopped aboard the Metro from Republique to Chatelet and…

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20131116-054928.jpgStrolled past the Hotel de Ville and an ever so pretty carousel and on…

20131116-052227.jpgAcross Pont au Change to view the Seine and…

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20131116-052423.jpgOn past the Conciergerie where Marie Antoinette awaited the guillotine then stepped onto…

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Point Zero, the spot in front of Notre Dame marking the centre of Paris and the 1st Arrondissment then…

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20131116-052939.jpgPaused to view the cathedral’s majesty and while there…

20131116-055112.jpgListened to a Scot piping VIPs from the Remembrance day service and thought of a special friend’s love of Bagpipes; before entering to light a final candle to all the people I’ve loved and lost. While there I…

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20131116-055515.jpgSnapped a few photos of her magnificent stained glass rose windows and beautiful lighting and cussed ‘cos my camera isn’t capable of capturing their majesty. Then I rewarded my self by…20131116-055847.jpgIndulging in the best ever yet Crepe Citron Sucre before…

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20131116-060028.jpgHopping metro from Hotel de Ville to the Trocadero to view the most beautiful tower in the world. She sparkled just for me, a sight that would make even the most jaded sigh in awe. The city of lights indeed. Finished off the day by…

20131116-060658.jpgDining with my gracious host Randal at Au Passage Wine Bar where we sampled some rather nice French fare. The Chef? A Queenslander!

A heavy heart farewelling Paris but one full of joy as I boarded a flight bound for another beautiful city…my home – Brisbane.

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So what exactly did Jane take away from that six month sojourn while we were all slaving our butts off (besides 7,800 photos, enough grasp on the Italian and French languages to avoid serious mischief, an appreciation of 38 new wines and  a whole lot of bragging via the Blog) I hear you ask? Well stay tuned for there’s a little self indulgent blabbering coming up.

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I saw dead people!

Well their bones that is. Sculls, femurs, clavicles and varying components of century upon century worth of Paris past, all stacked ever so tidily in the Catacombs deep beneath the city. Also learnt how they broke a body down to mere bones. Be afraid, be very afraid!

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20131115-212226.jpgFollowed that up with a tad of medieval musing at Musee de Cluny. Learnt about Unicorns. Uh huh!

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Then checked in on Maree Antoinette’s prison digs pre Guillotine at the magnificent Conciergerie.

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While there discovered a bunch of old men dozing in motorized wheelchairs. An old codger with rheumy eyes, white whiskers and an obvious inability to party started circling and I freaked! Then I realized he and his cohorts were made of wax. My kinda guy really – the kind you can manipulate (oh did I say that?). All of them an element a politically themed art exhibit. Clever. Bizarre.

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Could say I spent the day spent hanging with the dead…bet your jealous!

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How to beat the blues…

Feeling a tad blue yesterday I took a wander down to the Jardins Tuileries….

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I feel better now…

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Jardins des Tuileries…

Sunny Sunday afternoons must be spent in a lovely garden and where better than the beautiful Jardins des Tuileries?

Wandering the length of the gardens, from the Louvre to Place del la Concorde, I marveled at the autumnal tones of the Plane Trees; folk casually settled on the iconic metal chairs the shade of lush green grass, reading, kissing, chattering, dozing, observing. Water fowl snatching crusts as they jostle one another against the light breeze rippling across the circular lakes. Happy snapping tourists, family clusters. Immaculately dressed twins in gorgeous tonal puffer jackets sailing miniature sail boats, lovingly coached by their Mum, the epitome of French chic dressed in skinny white jeans, tailored tan leather jacket and matching boots and sporting the most adorable plum colored YSL cross body bag that I make a mental note to seek out…wait! I digress! A beautiful day mingling with the locals. Just a few of my favourite snaps….

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A black cat and a nimble rabbit…

Le Chat Noir and Lapin Agile to be precise. I’ve been exploring Montmartre and the treasures hidden in the narrow cobblestone streets around Sacré-Cœur and discovered the pair of them reside in this neighbourhood.

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Since ‘Au Lapin Agile’ was a popular meeting place for questionable Montmartre characters including eccentrics, pimps, a batch of local anarchists, students from the Latin Quarter and one or two well-heeled bourgeoisie; seemed a fitting place to start.

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Lapin Agile

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After the obligatory jostle of tourists around the iconic Basilica Sacré-Cœur, checked out the Montmartre Museum housing Toulouse-Lautrec and a host of other famous artists’ works including the iconic Chat Noir by Théophile Steinlen, the posters now more famous than the actual night club they were promoting.

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Aside from cats and rabbits, I also came across a vineyard, a floppy clock, a couple of windmills and a few more space invaders.

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Vineyards beneath the Museum.20131103-010820.jpg

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Salvadore Dali works

20131103-011121.jpgA bite to eat

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20131103-011302.jpgArtists sketching tourists

20131103-011400.jpgOne of the two remaining windmills that once stood on this hill

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It’s sister – that other famous windmill in neighboring Pigalle20131103-011637.jpg

20131103-011645.jpgAnd more of those pesky invaders

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Right. That’s Montmartre and surrounds taken care of…next?

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Just a Perfect Day…

The late, great Lou Reed’s words resonating in my ears I take to the streets to make the most of my last days reveling in what beautiful Paris has to offer. One week. Just one more week to explore her beauty, taste her culture, forge lasting memories. The sun is shining and as the man says – ‘it’s such a perfect day’…

Today’s highlights:

20131101-220402.jpg Le petit déjeuner (small breakfast) in a quaint outdoor cafe.

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Hôtel de Ville20131101-221006.jpg Love locks on the Pont des Arts behind Notre Dame

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20131101-222527.jpgL’Hôtel national des Invalides (The National Residence of the Invalids) war memorial and Napoleon’s tomb

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20131101-223139.jpgThe Place Vendôme and Pont Neuf

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20131101-224635.jpgWandering home after a coffee stop

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20131101-225017.jpgBack at Republique...just another perfect day indeed.

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Jacques and Jane discover the Je t’aime wall…

Loved up couples arm in arm strolling the streets, snuggling in warm cafés, kissing on steps…it’s enough to make a girl want to adopt a perfect stranger for the day. Handsome, debonaire, with a small dog and a large smile…oh that’s right they’re taken…sigh. Instead I create my imaginary composite and just as I’m having a gay old time window shopping with ‘Jacques’ I stumble upon ‘the wall’. The ‘I love you’ wall! Or more precisely the ‘Mur des Je t’aime.

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Forgetting about Jacques I examine the wall, feel even more lonely, shed a tear then toughen up. I promised reports on the lesser known gems of Paris my friends and I will deliver! And this one’s particularly special.

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Frédéric Baron created the concept and Claire Kito, an artist who practices oriental calligraphy, assembled the script. Their collaboration resulted in a wall composed of 612 squares of blue enameled lava on which the principle languages and dialects of the planet feature in the form of the words ‘I love you’ – 311 times and in 250 languages. The splashes of red on the fresco represent parts of a broken heart, symbolizing the human race which has been torn apart and which the wall is attempting to bring back together.

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Just above is Rita Hayworth by artist Rue Meurt d’Art, and a loose translation is, “Loving is chaos… so, let’s love.” To the right of Rita you can see a ghost. That’s Ava Gardner who originally graced the wall. C’est une mystère… The monument, dedicated to love, stands in a Square at the Place des Abbesses in Montmartre. Jacques and I concur – it’s a must see for lovers, after all Paris is the city of love.

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Who loves Space Invaders?

Damn space invaders, the little suckers are everywhere!  Hi, there lovely readers – and no I have NOT been indulging in a little too much champers! You’d think so though, the way I’ve been stumbling over gutters, into fellow pedestrians and on one particularly embarrassing occasion, a street lamp. You see, I’ve discovered these perfect little mosaic depictions from the arcade games of yesteryear residing on walls high above eye level and I’m now obsessed with finding more – a risky business necessitating eyes to the sky and not to the sidewalk.

MUST FIND MORE!

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So, why are they there, what do they mean and exactly how many of them are scattered across this fine city? And who’s the quirky artiste who put them there in the first place? My flatmate, a former WA chap who regards himself as more Parisian than Perthy, and thus the font of knowledge for all things French, doesn’t have the answer. Well dear reader, in the interest of reporting on the lesser-known quirks of Paris –  I’ve stepped up to the plate,. starting with a spot of research.

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Seems there are over 500 space-invaders in Paris alone, all lovingly planned and attached by a French urban artist who goes by the name of ‘Invader’. Having started the project in this, his home city, he now pops little invaders high above the urban traffic in cities across the world, then documents this as an “Invasion”, with books and maps for those obsessed with finding every invader. Erm, that would be me!

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The locations for the mosaics are not random, rather, they are chosen according to a diverse criteria which may be aesthetic, strategic or conceptual. He favours locations frequented by volumes of people but also has a few hidden locations. In Montpellier (France), the locations of the mosaics were chosen so that, when placed on a map, they form an image of a giant space invader character.

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I”m on a mission and have so far found 10. I will need new shoes of fine leather, of course, perhaps those super cute boots with the gold hardware I found in the Marais, and that uber-cool pair of…oh sorry, I digress!. I’ve popped a few space invaders captured so far into this post to tickle your curiosity. Don’t ask me for their addresses as I was mostly lost at the time but you can visit the Invader’s website and Google maps also have a series that share invader locations. That’s it for today, lovely readers – I am about to justify the gutter trips as it’s champers o’clock and moi must find a sweet little bar and make a meal of free aperitifs  – this super-sleuthing takes energy!

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 (photo below taken from Invader’s website)

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Paris in Autumn…sigh!

Crisp sunshine, nippy breezes (gorgeous swing jackets, tights and ankle boots too) and a veil of dusky bronze, gold and red foliage so vibrant the colours are hard to comprehend much less duplicate with paintbrush and canvas…it’s Autumn in Paris and I am totally enthralled; so much so I just had to share.

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Pink Ribbons in Paris…

A friend, a mum, a gran, a sister, an aunt…so many of us have been affected by cancer in some way, the subject never far from our lips. So too the ever vigilant and determined Pink Ribbon Breast Cancer Awareness (BCA) campaign.

Today I visited the 2013 Estée Lauder Pink Ribbon Photographic award exhibition in the courtyard of the Hotel de Sully – Le Marais. And what a splendid backdrop for such powerful, courageous and poignant works. Here’s a little taste of the winner and finalist entries:

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Photographer: Salome Barrot (Jury Special Mention)

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Photographers: Jeremie Conte (left) Kira Anglade (right)

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Photographers: Bruno Autin (left) Yann Renoard (right)

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Photographer: Sophie Loustau

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Photographer: Ines Sawaya

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Photographer: Adele Parison

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Photographer: Loic-Yann Parmentier

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Photographer: Emmanuel Brassart (Grand Prix 2013)

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Photographer: Peter Honnemann

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Photographer: Amandine Strasbach

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Photographer: Akane Yamakita

For more, click on this link Pink Ribbon Award – Paris

A note on Evelyn Lauder for those who may not be familiar with her contribution to this campaign: Evelyn died of ovarian cancer in 2011 but not before working tirelessly on the BCA campaign as well as co-creating with Alexandra Penny of SELF magazine the Pink Ribbon, now recognized worldwide as a symbol of breast health. She was also an avid photographer.

For you Moo. xx

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A pint ‘o Cider in London Town…

Negotiated tube and overland trains between Paris and London without once getting lost (thanks to Rupert for detailed instructions at British end) and while there responded to greetings in French and a spot of Italian for good measure, albeit unintentionally.

Could say I’m now officially ‘international’ yes? Nope!

Cousins Rupert and Hortense, tour guide maps and stiff upper lips firmly in place, provided the itinerary while I acted the crazed camera wielding tourist thirsty for the city’s offerings. Bridges, boats, buses, cabs, works of art, statues, Shards, Meridians and Queens – West End Queen and Buckinghuge Palace Queen to be exact – all prey to my overzealous shutterbug enthusiasm. You see, I’ve been to London on numerous occasions, jet-setting toss that I am, but always in transit t20131022-000948.jpgo somewhere else and thus the thrill at finally being shown the town, and by locals.

And just to show how adaptable I am, hoovered back a hearty serve of Bangers ‘n Mash, a batch of good old Fish ‘n Chips too and all washed down with a pint of Cider while my wonderful hosts ate quality British fare, sipped wine and counted down the hours ’till I was safely escorted back to the Eurostar.

Highlights from good ‘ole Blighty?

20131022-001956.jpg– Time with Kent’s family sharing fond memories
– Views from the Shard
– Tate Modern (Paul Klee exhibit)
– Greenwich Fish ‘n Chips (and a waitress who believes in ‘Coddock’, a cross between Cod & haddock)
– West End (Queen Tribute ‘We Will Rock You’)
– St Paul’s Cathedral candle moment
– London’s smallest monument (two tiny mice chewing a knob of cheese)
– An enormous ginger & white puss called Paddy
– My dearly beloved Aunt, Uncle and cousins’ David & Helens respective hospitality – thank you all! X

Oh! And here are a few photos to prove I really was there…

20131022-000637.jpgThe wheel

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Float my boat…please?

Puffer jacket – check; wooly scarf – check; comfy shoes – check (no not the Homy Peds honey…le tres chic Nao Brazilian sneakers); sunglasses – check. It’s 5 degrees outside and I’m off to do what the Parisians do…take in some rays by wallowing in the garden. However I’m not choosing just any old garden, I’m heading for Les Jardins du Luxenbourg. Here are my fave highlights…cue collective sigh…

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Kiddies sailing model boats in the Grand Bassin, the main pond in the centre where ducks interrupt even the best sailing capabilities and parents trample one another in their efforts to ‘help out’.

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A bunch of folk deep in concentration playing Petanque. Many had magnets to lift their metal balls to them rather than bending down to pick up (try wording that without inciting a raft of guffaws!), an excellent idea for the diehards.20131015-095509.jpg

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Burnt copper, gold and sun bright yellow leaves swirling across crisp manicured lawns and colorful well tended gardens.

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Statues, monuments and fountains, many wearing veils of soft green moss, some proudly exposed, others more discreet like the Fontaine de Leda tucked behind the beautiful Fontaine de Medicis.

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Green metal chairs draped with folk reading books, newspapers, magazines, slurping from Chinese noodle boxes, sipping coffee, dozing (you can pick up your chair and park it exactly where you want)

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Lovers entwined, whispering, kissing. This is where Cosette and Marius (Les Miserables) first met therefore entirely appropriate. Same sex couples swinging their children and all dressed as glamorously as their parents.

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A vintage Carousel, humble in comparison to the one under the Tour Eiffel but just as thrilling for the kids were squealing with delight, had just stopped for lunch here. (There’s also a clever little marionette show in the grounds)

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A gazebo full of mismatched band members sporting crazy hats and playing wildly random notes in a sort of synchronized chaos with their conductor.

20131015-103011.jpgTwo very sore feet attached to legs that have just traversed the second largest Park in Paris to observe a microcosm of Parisian life against the milieu of the French Senate, housed in the Palace.

Two interesting facts:

Marie de’ Medici (Mother of Louis XIII) of Italian descent had the Luxembourg gardens laid in Italian style having been inspired by the Boboli garden at the Pitti Palace in Florence where she spent her youth. (Thanks Penny)

The park has an extension beyond the gold tipped black wrought iron grill and gates along the centre of rue de l’Observatoire where at the very end is a fantastic statue of four nude women supporting the globe beneath which turtles and fish spout water.

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Zombies Have Rights Too!!

Like there I was just walking along and suddenly whack! Marilyn Manson all covered in blood and bruises is in my face. You deserve those bruises ‘cos your weirdly weird eyes freak me thought I, right before doing a double take into a hapless bystander for behind Marilyn was a grey person with a dangling eye being followed by a bunch of dead surgeons with ridiculous amounts of blood oozing from top to toe festering orifices. And then…like…holy crap! I’m completely surrounded by Zombies! Yes…goddamned Zombies! And ghouls (there is a difference) and everything undead and scary and reminding me of me in the morning mirror post big night out.

As they ambled, 20131014-095846.jpgshuffled and/or dragged themselves and each other along, some waving placards bearing ‘Zombies Have Rights Too’, a van screaming apocalyptic rock followed by a few bored riot control police (who could make for tasty snacks later) hauled up the rear. But you know what? I just couldn’t help grinning right back at them for the Zombies were having an absolute blast!

Hundreds of people participate in the annual Paris Zombie walk (one in Lyon too) and there’s no significant point to it other than giving individuals obsessed with the undead opportunity to roam the streets; albeit in a chaotically controlled manner as they had a specific route (Republique to Place des Vosges in the Marais) but heck, who’d want to run over a Zombie anyway? Too risky.

As I stumbled out the other side of the 400 plus throng, I giggled to myself – imagine if they’d let the Zombies loose last week during the fog exhibit back at the Republique? Pooped panties everywhere…so très unchic!

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Ten cute, curious, clever and ‘what th…’ finds

I confess. I can’t decide which category to put these in: cute, curious, clever or capable? Ten interesting items I’ve stumbled across in Paris…what do you think? 20131010-223217.jpgBaby sunglass and dummy combo – ’nuff said

20131010-223343.jpgCane toad coin purses and necklets – elegant use of a pesky critter’s coat

20131010-223603.jpgChicken wire lace fences – bog standard fence be gone! 20131010-223808.jpgFlams – a skinny tostada that thinks it’s a Pizza that thinks it tastes great and it does

20131010-224725.jpgGrape drape – makes grapes look super lush

20131010-223948.jpgHerb storage tower – love these!

20131010-224058.jpgPig face pies – or is it a teddy?

20131010-224145.jpgRibbon Giraffes – coats made entirely of grosgrain ribbon

20131010-224300.jpgStorm umbrella – need a storm to test

20131010-224350.jpgWing wearing Monkey – well why not?

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Coffee, cats and more Passages

Seven days exploring Paris means regular coffee stops which means I’m ricocheting off walls, or should I say boutiques which means my credit card is moaning, but not as loudly as my feet which means I’ve done some serious legwork, 63k in fact which means I need new shoes. Shame! ‘Cos there are some seriously funky boots out there. But I digress…it’s the Passages I’m here to report on today and I have found another. Well it wasn’t actually lost in the first place, but I was. And in a good way for that’s how I stumbled upon Galerie Vivienne.

Beautifully preserved architecture, delicate mosaics and exquisite detail housing seriously cool, chic and tres expensive shops including Jean-Paul Gaultier’s flagship boutique; Wolff & Descourtis a fabulous fabric store and my little favorite L’Aparte specializing in paper butterfly’s and flowers. As well, Les Caves Legrand believed to be one of the be20131009-183414.jpgst wine shops in town, several lush restaurants and A Priori Thé an elegant little rendezvous for afternoon tea.

Naturally a spot to rest the feet, quench the thirst and observe the scenery; and you know what? It’s often the smallest observations that bring the greatest pleasure. As I sipped my coffee I noticed an elderly woman sitting outside her store discreetly sketching the patrons opposite as they sipped theirs. Her companion, an enormous shaggy cat sprawled across the entire stoop. Both were wearing deeply satisfied smiles. Seems I wasn’t the only ‘observer’ that day. I like that.

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Jane’s new addiction…

Uh! oh! I have an addiction. Correction. Another addiction (yes, yes there’s that wine one, and the chocolate one, and the…oh shut up!). This one’s to do with Passages. Parisian ones.

Determined to report in on the lesser known experiences Paris has to offer, suffice to say I was absolutely thrilled to find these hidden gems. This particular one reminded me of the fabulous Queen Victoria Building in Sydney. The Passage du Grand Cerf, again full of delightful surprises (see previous post ‘Loving Parisian Passages’) absolutely enchanted…

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Restored to its former glory a few years ago and off the usual tourist track which means it wasn’t crowded, rarely is they say despite the myriad of tempting shops within. Gorgeous Florist Marie Stark, contemporary jeweler Eric et Lydie (apparently originally discovered by Christian Lacroix) and more with très intriguing display props. Particularly enamored with a cocktail umbrella wreath (may press that idea into action for Xmas, accompanied by a steady stream of actual cocktails).

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Home wares store La Corbeille for unusual finds including storm umbrellas and Pour Vos Beaux Yeux for vintage eyewear. Loved L’Illustre for cute and clever prints and right next door to a store full of gorgeous silks and wool and a dear little vintage pram housing bolts of fabric. As’art for cool African goodies and the particularly eclectic Richshaw full of twee antique pieces, from delicate door knobs and bicarb lamps to ancient decorative tins and classic comics.

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20131008-144231.jpgThe bonus? Stepped out and onto the cutest pedestrian only rue Saint-Denis bursting with bars, Frommagerie, Boulangerie, Chocolatiers and a batch of uber coolly dressed Mums picking up tiny, chattering tots from the local crèche sporting complete ‘Tartine et Chocolat boutique’ ensembles. Almost made me want one…a wine that is.

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Also found an Escargot restaurant. It’s on my list for dining experiences as I’m positive I can manage those ‘slippery little suckers’ without taking an eye out.

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Loving Parisian Passages…

Exploring the second layer of Paris requires the luxury of time and given I’ve done the touristy bits, am now on a mission to explore the Passages (see previous post ‘A second layer of Parisian finds). And you know what? Sometimes they just sneak up on you…

Passages Panoramas has numerous entrances and I just happened to find one as I popped out the other end of Passages Jouffroy and onto Boulevard Montmartre. Fortuitous indeed for this one is chock full of surprises. There are half a dozen philatelists’ shops but also several seriously hip wine bars: Les Racines for trendy vins naturels, Coinstot Vino for Italian vintages, and Le Diable Verre, a lounge bar where your feet will insist you wallow a while. Spent ages examining the fascinating collectables in Tombées du Camion, from curious plastic dolls to kitsch postcards, antique tin boxes and quirky door knobs.

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Satisfied, a smug smirk on my face now, two Passages in one day. Eight to go.

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A second layer of Parisian finds…

The town planners in Paris created a labyrinth of hidden passages across Paris in the late18th century and although many have fallen into disrepair or have been demolished over the years if you know where to look you can still, in the words of John Brunton ‘push back a doorway and walk into a fabulous belle époque arcade, a glittering art nouveau galerie or an ancient courtyard’. (The Guardian: 2012) Game on!

Found the Passages Jouffroy and felt like I’d literally been swept into the mid 19th century. Wandering through I came across a Paris version of Madame Tussauds (Grévin), fabulous old-fashioned toys in the Pain D’épices, antique walking sticks in Segas and at the end of the main passageway the petite entrance of the Hotel Chopin. Round the corner and into the second passage, a cutting-edge photography boutique called Photo Verdeau and the Librairie du Passage full of glorious art books. As well, lots of quaint restaurants and tea shops brimming with punters chowing down on their power meeting lunches.

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And then I discovered the Passages Panoramas...tomorrow’s post. Stay tuned!

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Shhh! I have a secret!

But first, take this quiz:
A) Do you fight small anxiety attacks when choosing from a delectable dessert menu?
B) Do you enjoy scintillating your taste buds by throwing them regular surprise parties?
C) Do you find yourself wishing you could try just a mouthful of every dessert on that menu?
OR
D) None of the above, pass the cheese please

OK ‘D’s’ you can leave now. But as for the rest of you…I have a secret!

It’s a well known fact that I’m a girl with Champagne tastes on a lemonade budget. Lesser known that I’m a dessert piglet too (is there a three step program for this?). Enter the ‘Café Gourmand’.

A ‘Café’ is just a coffee right? Whereas a ‘Café Gourmand’ is a coffee accompanied by several petite dessert surprises. Slender shot glasses, mini ramekins, spoons brimming with creme brûlée, mousse, macerated fruits, home made ice cream and sorbet; generous slithers of flan, cubes of cake, macarons, mini tartlets, berries and twille – Chef’s choices artistically anchored on large plates with generous swirls of chocolate or berry coulis. And all for little more than the straight up coffee. Sweet! (pun intended). And fast – two birds with one stone, which is how the idea originated. A secret to us tourists unless we’ve been informed by a local or we ask.

So far I’ve spooned my way through enough ice-cream to deprive a two year old’s birthday party; cake and tart to hold my own at a London high tea; creamy concoctions and mousses to want to press all those gifted shot glasses into action and twilles to research how to perfect these paper thin, haughty crisps for future posterity. And in the interests of reporting, my ‘research’ will continue. You can thank me later.

Please Aussie restaurants, please add these to your repertoire? It can be our little secret just like here in France. Otherwise ordering a mere coffee will never be the same again.

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Vaisselle Techôtel

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Born again with dessert spoon in mouth…

Today’s top three from gay Paree…

20131005-091654.jpgChecked out the National Archives. Aside from housing all the public docs from the state of France since the seventh century AD to 1958 did you know that Napoleon’s will is also stored there along with the rules of tennis, keys to the dungeons of Bastille and the declaration of human rights? A whole lot more of course. Interesting.

Could have lingered a few days and risk being personally filed under the curious Dewey system. Stately building too.

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‎Walked the length and breadth of Île de la Cité, the island on which Notre Dame sits. And then it’s smaller sister the Île Saint-Louise. Did you know that all road distances from France are calculated from the 0 km point in the square facing Notre Dame’s western towers? Tried to push the tourists off the marker and take a selfie for posterity but no joy.

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Lunched in a lovely little restaurant where a British born-again Christian (post adultery) tried to save me. Jesus was our only savior said he (between hoovering up great mouthfuls of frites because they’re forbidden back home). Nope. We are our own saviors said I (between spooning down great mouthfuls of a very nice Cafe Gourmand selection in preparation for taking flight). Did you know that if you order a Cafe Gourmand you’ll get your coffee PLUS three or four small desserts? Nice! 20131005-092138.jpg

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Tomorrow, the Passages…the quaint kind between buildings.

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Nana on a Scooter?

Saw a Nana whizzing down the Avenue de la Republique footpath on a Push Scooter and I reveled in her joy. Saw authorities taking away a homeless man’s puppy and I cried with empathy. Saw the Eiffel Tower just as the clouds made way for her hourly sparkle and I gasped in awe. Paris. City of lights and lovers and tragic and magic moments.

Six weeks to explore under the guise of ‘local’, six weeks to seek out the interesting, less touristy locales, six weeks in which to bring you, my beloved subscribers (all 441 of you whomever you are) and dear FB fans…a daily top three. Since you can’t be here beside me, a vicarious holiday will have to do. Your welcome!

Now where would you like to go and what would you like to see with me? Please share.

Meanwhile…a lovely little florist I found today.

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Mind bend sans drugs…

Looking to take a trip without the necessary evils? A visit to the Foundation Vasarely will do it. A long term fan of the work of Victor Vasarely, the master of optical illusion, I just had to check in. Over 70 photos later and you can correctly conclude that my mind was both blown and bent; thus necessitating a few deep breathing exercises, a splash in a fountain and a soothing Vin rosé…or two. Are you a fan?

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The Foundation is just outside Aix en Provence. If your a fan, add a visit to your list when next in the region. Check opening times as the venue closes for lunch, bless!

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‘Wine o’clock’ somewhere yeah?…

‘It’s ‘wine o’clock’ somewhere in the world right now’ 

Said I, justifying my ‘nosing’ the first wine at 10.00am, sipping 3rd at 10.20, chugging 5th, a lovely little Rosé ‘party wine’ so named for its instant drinkability at 10.50, before letting the palate go wild on the 7th and final, a beaut little vintage poured with deftness from a Jeroboam by our extremely knowledgeable young Sommelier.

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The backdrop? A Potager (kitchen) garden ripe with fruit trees, veges and herbs behind which a well manicured garden leads to languid rows of grape vines heavy with fruit and edged with slender Cypress receding into the distant mountains. My fellow tour mates and I concur (somewhat noisily as the lovely Sarah our guide gently herds us like wayward sheepdogs back to the car) a wine tasting session at the Val Joanis winery (near Pertuis) is an absolutely splendid way to start the day touring southern Luberon & Cassis!

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Next, a visit to the ‘perched’ village of Ansouis, a pretty little hamlet clinging to a rocky cliff pinnacle with spectacular views of the surrounding Luberon Mountain ranges (between the Alp20130927-182313.jpgs and the Mediterranean). Too late for the Poppies (May), Lavender (July) or Sunflowers already drying in readiness for reaping (Sept); instead I content myself with the glorious amber colors of Plane Tree leaves clustered across the long pond in nearby Cucuron while making a note to watch the movie ‘A Good Life’, parts of which were filmed here. Sadly, said trees across Europe are being destroyed by a fungus from the inside out. Equally so the thought of how badly this pretty little place was affected by the plague epidemic spread from nearby Marseille 1720-1.

20130927-174153.jpg20130927-174210.jpg20130927-174223.jpgWe lunch on local wine and fresh seafood hot off the wharf in the quaint fishing village of Cassis, famous for its white limestone; quarried to build nearby harbors as well as the plinth on which the Statue of Liberty (NY) sits.20130927-174722.jpgNext we board a boat that takes us deep into the 5 calanques: Port Miou, Port Pin, En Vau, l’Oule and Devenson; sheltered inlets created by river erosion through the limestone cliffs and affording safe and protected havens for yacht anchorage and swimming, rock climbing and abseiling.20130927-211713.jpg20130927-182217.jpg

Follow this up with a drive up the Route Des Cretes to the Cap Canaille where a magnificent view of Cassis and the Parc national des Calanques is unfortunately veiled by a natural hot air turbulence, a phenomena both eerie and majestic. I’ve just scratched the surface of what Provence has to offer.

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And I’m now officially a Sarah fan. A visit to this beautiful region cannot be fully appreciated without the warmth, knowledge and deep passion displayed by her. Visiting the area soon? Head to this site…http://www.discover-Provence.net and make the most of her expertise!

Now about that wine…

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Bike short bulges!

Got your attention? There’s an Iron Man comp in progress in Aix en Provence today. I discovered this by following the beat…the welcome to the finish line doof doof beat…heck it even made me want to join in! Shame I don’t rock Lycra, not in public anyway. Used to seeing the rangy, lean forms of serious competitors in Australia, I can’t help but stare at the beautifully sculpted equivalent here. Stringy calves and skinny arms replaced with quality definition, shoulder to ankle…and the bits in the middle too! (No photos out of respect)

Dragging my salivating self away, I wander up the Cours Mirabeau, lose myself and discover why Aix is oft referred to as the ‘city of fountains’. 20130923-091358.jpg20130923-091512.jpg
The fountains? They’re everywhere; one of natural hot water and covered in a dense growth of cool green moss and ferns, others upholding statues of important folk or various obelisk and still more mere fonts pressed into action for hand washing, doggie drinks, cooling feet and for splashing in on a hot summer’s day.

20130923-091001.jpg20130923-091253.jpgIn every square under leafy canopies and along the curved narrow alleyways there are bars and bistros spilling with beautiful people for the city is home to a huge batch of top notch Universities. I select a bar and observe the city morph into dusk over a chilled cider. Couples everywhere. Loneliness replaced with speculation as I observe a pair nearby enjoying a carafe of chilled rosé. In their 60’s, German, silent. Not a word. I suspect a companionship so comfy they simply don’t need conversation.

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Markets abound. They’re fabulously enticing. Different ones almost daily. Clothing and home wares that meander for miles around half the old town. A daily lush, fresh produce market piled high with fat green and black glossy grapes, cheeses, cured meats, seafood, mushroom species I’ve rarely seen, deep velvety aubergines, baby carrots, zucchini flowers. Yes! Flower markets too, blossoms, plants and small trees abound…a fabulous feast for the senses.

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Trying hard to spot a grimace but it seems the men enjoy as well. Small dogs munching on salami tit-bits, kids in strollers chewing on baby sized baguettes, me on a Palmier and all of us supping caffe, glaces, vin or a bière over a lazy lunch. Je pourrais vraiment m’habituer à ça. I really could get used to this…

Today’s mission? A snap of every fountain! Below the Cours at dusk.

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Squeezed in Èze…

Squeezed a quick peek into the quaint medieval village of Èze today and immediately fell in love with the village motto – Isis Moriendo Renascor ‘In death I am Reborn’ (its emblem is a phoenix perched on a bone); and here’s why…

The village circles the ruins of a12th-century fortified castle (torn down in 1706) which is perched atop a narrow rocky outcrop 429m above sea level. Tiny red brick centered lane ways wind their way upward to the Jardins Exotique surrounding the castle and which afford the most spectacular views east to Cap D’Ail, straight ahead to Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat and west all the way to 20130919-215012.jpgAntibes and beyond on a good day. The restored walls and buildings crowding the lanes now house interesting hotels, cave dwelling art galleries and tourist driven gift shops and enticing little tree shaded squares dotted here and there make perfect ice cream retreats along the way. Reborn indeed.

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20130919-215022.jpgÈze commune extends from Èze-sur-Mer on the Mediterranean up to Èze-Village and Saint-Laurent-d’Eze connects the two, along with a rather irregular bus service for those less willing to slog up a steep irregular pathway.

The wise take the bus up and dawdle the walk back down. The views along the way would thrill even the most jaded traveller’s taste buds.

 

Bono (U2) thinks so too for he has a home in Èze-sur-Mer. A big pink and white concoction not at all in keeping with his image yet totally in keeping with the ‘hood’.

Such a pretty, atmospheric element of the region, a last minute ‘so glad I did’ visit.

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The ‘bitch’ does Cannes

I am now officially someone’s ‘bitch’. My master goes by the name of ‘UP’. Created by ‘Jawbone’ hangs with the Apple gang. Clingy. Promiscuous too. Always trying to penetrate my iPhone and upload a pile of gabble on an App that reminds me that I sleep too much, exercise too little and really should cut back on alcohol, baguette crusts and those delectable crisps disguised as ‘happy hour’ Aperitifs.

UP’s worse than a nagging mother in law. This electrode infused rubber shrouded bangle monitors my every move, 24/7. Mum in laws are electrode infused, house coat shrouded necklets and monitor your every move. According to men from past lives anyway.

Mind you I loved mine (in law that is). Vera rolled her own fags, told hilariously bawdy jokes, couldn’t cook for nuts (gave me great bouts of colic) flippe20130918-103513.jpgd her skirts to deliver Nana versions of a ‘brown eye’ and kept the tea pot perpetually hot and full. A delightful woman  with an invincible attitude ‘Don’t like it? Well bugger off!’ A fine woman but I digress…

20130918-103527.jpgOf course you’re wondering why i’ve indulged in this sadomasochistic relationship with UP aren’t you.

 

Cast your eyes around. Anyone currently punching the air triumphantly screaming ‘We survived Tough Mudder!’ while clearing the last glug of mud from their ears? The lean, mean fighting machines? Well they had to get their motivation somewhere didn’t they.

Thanks to my desperate need to satisfy UP’s demands, I visited Cannes yesterday. Wasn’t that impressed (compared to other parts of the Côte d’Azur). Reckon the celebs leave the helicopter idling, slip down the carpet, swipe their awards and make a run for it! Was impressed with my stats though.20130918-103537.jpg
• 21,076 steps
• 14.59k
• 210% move goal
• 1,774 cal total burn

UP almost smiled. Dare not tell it about my coffee and Gateaux reward. Meanwhile, you’ll be looking for photos of the place. Here we go then…
PS: Cannes has real sand, not the pebbly kind, an excellent Antique market, a lot of very big hotels, very small dogs and a great deal of naked flesh.

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Jane’s top 10 Villefranche gigs – ENJOY!

Ever visited Villefranche-Sur-Mer?

So many off beat, interesting, exciting and downright brilliant things to do in and around Villefranche-Sur-Mer (VSM) on the Côte d’Azur France, it would be remiss not to share my favorites. View the list as confirmation for ‘Heck yeah I’m booking my ticket now!’ or valid argument for ‘Bugger off, that’s not my gig.’ Your choice.

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20130908-100542.jpg20130908-100550.jpg20130908-100556.jpg1) The village clutches to it’s heart an ‘old town’ which includes the Rue Obscure, a 14th century defensive passageway which fell victim to urbanization over the centuries and became completely covered. St Michel’s Church with obligatory bell tower serving as village alarm clock and Saint Peter’s Chapel decorated by Jean Cocteau and devoted to fishermen. The villas bathed in soft hues of terra cotta, clotted cream and dusty tangerine, crowd narrow alleyways lined with restaurants, bars, clothing and gift stores, a Boulangerie-Patisserie, mini CoOp market and the essential Tabac (phone recharge, mags, papers, tobacco) all pushing up against a spectacular harbor foreshore; as well as…

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20130907-195131.jpg 2) Du Plage des Marinières, the local beach. Fee free too. Smooth pebbles, heavenly on hot summer days averaging 29-34 degrees, water so deliciously cool and salty you can toss the Floaties and indulge in submerging ears to listen to the swoosh of the ocean bed below, eyes heavenward to admire the ridiculously deep blue sky while pondering a visit to…

20130908-100734.jpg20130908-100741.jpg20130908-104613.jpg20130908-104710.jpg3) The ancient Citadel, once a fortification now housing Le Hotel de Ville actually the town hall; intriguing art and sculpture exhibits with zero entry fee, a nightly open air Cinema for minimal euro, uber cool vibe and compulsory language grasp, plus art centric gardens in which to view the harbor which is…

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20130908-101536.jpg 4) The deepest port in the Mediterranean and where you can (a) park your maxi yacht right in front of the many restaurants lining the harbor, give the crew the night off and/or (b) demand your cruise ship does likewise (agenda tick given the volume of cruise ships in the bay) where you can feast on Moules et Fruits de Mer (mussels and seafood) while you plan a…

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5) Walk to Beaulieu-sur-Mer, the neighboring harbor jam packed with yachts and sea craft , more beautiful beaches, a backdrop of cliffs upon which houses cling precariously. You may refer to this village as Beaumont-sur-Mer if you enjoyed ‘Dirty Rotten Scoundrels’ starring Michael Caine and Steve Martin; a movie script rumored to have been written for David Bowie and Mick Jagger…which leads to turning right at…

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6) Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat where you can admire the €€€ real estate belonging to ‘notable’ gentry including Microsoft co-founder Paul Allen and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Stroll along the beautiful Promenade Maurice Rouvier from the Beaulieu Bay de Formis side of the Cap and while there check out Villa Nellcote (the gates that is) where the Rolling Stones recorded ‘Exile on Main Street’ (in between Keith indulging in or brushing off the French constabulary for drug misdemeanors) while also…

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20130908-112414.jpg20130908-112509.jpg20130908-112601.jpg 7) Taking in the glorious Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild where Rothschild imagined and designed her gardens as a ship’s deck; temple of love at the bow, the Villa from which to admire her work (well that of the hired help, all required to sport red berets with pompoms) at the stern, the garden itself flanked with l’Espalmador bay to starboard and the Fourmis bay port-side. Observe and admire the musically synchronized fountains and while on the famous Villa roll you may also wish to…

20130908-114318.jpg 8) Marvel at Villa Leopolda up there on the VSM mountainside backdrop; possibly the world’s most expensive real estate where (a) battles over integrity maintenance were fought and lost with royalty, (b) a banker’s wife sued and won a Russian billionaire’s renege on a €35M deposit (on a sale originally touted at €500M, later refuted to be just €375M) and (c) in which a number of movies have been filmed including ‘To Catch a Thief’ starring Grace Kelly prior to her becoming a ‘local’. Which of course brings us to…

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20130908-114733.jpg 9) Utilising the village as the perfect 20min access to Monaco where you can don your fave Chanel frock or Stuart Hughes suit, add your best Harry Winston bling, tip the driver and head in to roll the dice at the Monte Carlo Casino while pouting for the paparazzi (see Black Amex Down post). Alternatively, to Èze-Sur-Mer where you can trek all the way up to Èze Village (while also admiring Bono’s home clinging to the mountainside); a mere 3 hour, 430 metres from sea level hike…yeah right! There’s a bus – €1.50

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20130908-115025.jpg20130908-115040.jpg10) If that’s not your bag, head in the opposite direction to Nice and dance down the Prominade des Anglaise (see ‘I’m still standing’ post), trawl the nitty gritty back streets and check out la mOMa gallery; Canne, if your anxious to do your best ‘red carpet’ imitation. Now throw off the papps, return to VSM and follow the…

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11) Tiny foot prints enticing you to brilliant works of art deliberately and enticingly hidden throughout the village, then debrief on what the artiste was trying to convey with that massive tangle of fluorescent wool between the trees over a chilled Sancerre while admiring another glorious sunset; after which of course you will..

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20130908-120426.jpg 12) Choose from the array of restaurants to graze on a L’Apéritif (Aperitif), L’Entrée (Appetizer), Le Plat Principal (Main course), Le Fromage (Cheese), Le Dessert (Dessert), Le Café (Coffee) and a Le Digestif (Digestif) to finish the day on a nice note; all the while ruminating on highlights from this beautiful little piece of the famous Côte d’Azur.

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Black Amex Down!

Moored the yacht along side Roger’s ‘Casino Royale’ (well natch!), Elton’s ‘Hercules’ and Princess Caroline’s ‘Pasha III’, skipped ashore, waved to the crew of ‘My Trust Fund’ and ‘Lady Nag Nag’ then checked out the club.

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20130905-123347.jpgYacht Club de Monaco that is. Decadence abounds, necessitating a quick side step into Boutsen Aviation Corporate Aircraft Sales to choose a Jet, just a small one mind, interior fitted out by dear Donatella. Must keep up with the Depps, Bonos, Armanis, JAYz and most of the Russian mafioso.

20130905-123540.jpgSlight dent in the Amex Black now but undeterred I graze on Chanel, Hermès, Balenciaga, Louis V; choose my high roller wardrobe, a spot of bling and contemplate the Almas Caviar and Crystal Brut ‘Methuselah’ picnic pack, a small gift for the Grimaldis while I’m checking out their Palais Princier digs.

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Ditching the Driver I stroll on up around the Théâtre du Forte Antoine to the Musee Oceanographique et Aquarium where I stroke a Shark (yes I do!) then down past the Port de Fontvielle, another Cathedral and on to the Palais. Smile with guilty pleasure as the reflection bouncing off my new bling blinds the tourists in this spectacular sunshine.

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20130905-123822.jpg20130905-123829.jpg20130905-123924.jpg20130905-123934.jpg20130905-123953.jpgObligation satisfied, I head for the Casino, a tad crowded, then choose my next ‘on shore’ digs. The Hotel de Paris doesn’t look too shabby but I’ll go with the Hermitage. Elegant, surrounded by labels and quite a number of suave and ever so sexy…

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Total spend:
Bus fare €3.00 return
Cuppa & baguette: €8.50
Water: €2.00
New shoe soles: €12.00

Mental spend: €874,750,990.00

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I’m still standing…yeah yeah yeah

Im still standing better than I did before‘ sang Elton John (surprise given the six Martinis he’d just thrown back with Duran Duran) as he pranced on this very street back in ’83…‘lookin’ like a true surviver, feeling like a little kid’ sang I while barely suppressing the urge to skip. And why not? I’m on the Promenade des AnglaisNice…the Côte d’AzurFrance!

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20130901-124126.jpgA quick sidestep to view the beach delights with a six emotion slam dunk. Curiosity, intrigue, surprise, thrill, fear, reverence. She’s frail, 70+, snowy white curls, helped over the pebbles by two burly lifesavers, plunges in, flips over, topless and backstrokes smoothly out to sea, bosoms a bobbing. Elle est magnifique!

20130901-124203.jpgInto a side street to the old town and on through the famous Cour Saleya Saturday markets: poisson and fromage to the left; figues, roses, framboises to the right. Followed by coffee and a wonderfully fluffy omelette with the most interesting frites…slender, concave and just too delish to leave.

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20130901-124343.jpgOnto the hairdresser where Thierry wields scissors like a chaff cutter while a waif with pouting ruby red lips whisks away a fur ball equivalent in size to a small blond rodent. Fringe be gone!

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20130901-124454.jpgAnother coffee, the pure shot of caffeine jet propelling me up the Avenue Jean Médecin and the steps to the Parc du Château, all the while jabbering step count in French, as far as ‘Vingt‘ that is (213 if you must know). Photo op. Back down the other side to the Porte, a cocktail and aperitif, onto the No.81 and home.

Still jabbering. It’s 2am and I’M STILL BLOODY STANDING!’…damn coffee.

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Aching balls and butter pats…

Walked this far, might as well continue

Balls of my feet are aching. A walk from Villefranche-Sur-Mer around the Bd Princess Grace de Monaco, down to Lympia and on to Port Riquier Le Port of Nice will do that. One of those ‘walked this far might as well continue’ moments followed closely by ‘how the feck do I get home’ angst.

Situation needed serious contemplation, and obligatory fortification. Sidestepped into a petite bistro, ordered a vin Rouge and what I assumed would be a cheese platter equivalent to the desperately small cube of cheddar, slither of blue vein, dot of goat’s cheese guaranteed to remain attached to roof of mouth ’till Tuesday, a grape and three small biscuits; the nature of which my beloved homeland is inclined to serve for a mere $20.

Nope…€8 offered up half a side of Roquefort, four dollops of non stick goat offering and two huge gherkins piled atop a salad accompanied by five slabs of Baguette. Holy taste buds batman! What really intrigue20130830-203711.jpgd was the two butter pats in the mix; usually only proffered after one has begged, cajoled and thrown a small but noisy tantrum for the French just don’t get it. Mon dieu! Voulez vous le beurre??? Oui I bloody well want butter! But this time I didn’t, gave that fight up a while ago – I’m an undercover local now remember?
In the interests of upholding my ‘eat everything in site before the budget limps away sobbing soon’ mantra I fulfilled the duty, all the while chortling at the memory of Rossy ordering a four cheese Pizza (when Jen, Ross and I were last in France) and receiving a 5cm deep pile of melted cheese under which a tiny crust tried in vain to uphold its duty.

Rossy’s gallant effort was well rewarded with applaud from we girls and the crusty old codgers nearby. Mine with discovering Bus 81 went right past my abode, the stop just ten meters away and all for €1.20. Merci dieu!!

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20130830-203925.jpgArrived home and discovered this gorgeous woman (and her inherited side kick) atop the Citadel. What can I say?

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Derrière divots on the Côte d’Azur

20130827-133428.jpgThe sun is gloriously warm, the ocean a sparkling azure jewel, Yachts, pleasure cruisers, and colourful air beds upon which bronzed bathers are lazing bob gently on the swell, the Sancerre’s chilled to perfection and…Oh sorry, did I hear you say you’re too busy buying your ticket to read on? Please do for the Côte d’Azur, well Villefranche-sur-mer at least, is really rather special.

It is also fraught with danger…

Today I learnt that it is pertinent to hide when cruise ships arrive. All that nylon stretched across impossibly large derrières is a tad too much to bear. Why?

Said derrières clearly needed a beach fix. The beach, as usual, was wall to wall and claiming a smidgeon of territory required the usual cunning, deftness and abandonment of ‘personal space’ issues. Hence my poorly veiled glee as I staked my claim on a square metre recently vacated by a family. And that’s when the shadows loomed. And not of the cloud variety. I’m talking the beach fix derrières.

First, they threw down massive beach baskets from which enormous beach sheets, blow up devices, sunscreen, hats, magazines, water and baguettes were exhumed. I swear I saw a small manservant being pushed back in.

20130827-133200.jpgWith the detritus of beach pleasure released, they then crafted little divots from the pebbly surface in which to park said bottoms. The hollows clearly weren’t suitably sized for once towels were spread; both pairs began to grind side to side until satisfied. It was not a pretty sight or sound. Ocean view thoroughly obscured, I recompensed with the shade they afforded and a delicious little piece of eavesdropping. And that’s when I discovered they were from the cruise ship…20130827-133405.jpg‘Which side of the ship do we need to be on to see the Panama Canal?’ asked one of the other in a strong Texan voice. ‘Other’ didn’t have an answer; she was busy planning her outfit for this evening’s disco theme. Emitting a small shudder from the question intimating one G&T too many and a vision best erased, I gathered my sarong and departed. I had to. Just knew I would not be able to contain myself should ‘other’ ask ‘What happens to the ice sculptures when they melt?’

I know you’re dying for photo proof but I very much fear I’d be hunted down and sat upon. These are from a non-cruise ship day.

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You eez on zer wrong train Signora!

Have I told you how very good I am at laughing and crying simultaneously? Just ask travel buddy Jen about a certain Qantas windscreen crack. Slapping didn’t work. Alcohol did. Reduced the maniacal mayhem to a mere tic. Sans saviour, slap and G&T, today required digging deep. Really, really deep!20130820-220055.jpg

‘Shhh! Listen to me signora, zis is not direct! You eez on zer wrong train’ said the Italian conductor. Bitch slap or bless? And so close to the French Alps too. ‘You go back to Genoa en swap platform to zee Ventemiglia and from there zee Nice-Ville eh?’

All monitors down, Nice-Ville platform determined by rolling the dice. It’s now 10.50pm. Follow the three Columbians and a hapless local on to the only lit train. Local whizzes off to confirm, returns with wine, five cups and a pizza. ‘Aperitif must accompany wine’. We concur. We bond. Local hops off at Monaco (ah ha!), me at Villefranche sur mer, the Columbians continue rolling the dice on the likelihood of making it to Cannes in time for 9 am French class.

Apartment greeter text –‘Too late to greet you but le door she unlocked ok?’ Nope. Door firmly locked. Kicking didn’t help. Italian SIM simultaneously says ‘Bugger off Mizz, you in zer wicked Frenchie land now, we spit on you!’ Now 11.45pm. More deep bonding, this time with 12 restaurant patrons who text, phone and email greeter on my behalf. No response. Twelve more footprints on Le Door. ‘Hôtel le plus proche s’il vous plaît?’

20130820-220107.jpgWelcome to the ‘Welcome’ Hotel! Greeter text – ‘So sorry! I no get message, I refund you ‘otel oui?’ It’s 1.20am, night is but a pup. I respond with ‘How nice of you, merci, bon nuit.‘ as I snuggle into €375 worth of fluffy pillows, CNN TV, air con luxury of a very cosy Biggles themed room (a whole other story).

Manners darling, manners. Good night.

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Villefranche sur mer…ahhhhh!

Just down the Ruelle du Marché steps below my window there’s a live band rocking out universal classics; a few steps more, the distinct hum of revelers spilling out of the restaurants lining the foreshore. People are sprawled on the stairs leaning into each other, smoking, laughing and singing along in predominantly French and English accents. They’re totally ‘in the moment’.

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20130822-190227.jpg I might be in the old town’ where history connects with ancient fortifications, in this case The Citadel, but that’s where ‘old’ ends. Villefranche, an extension of Nice on the Côte d’Azur or ‘French Riviera’ is not only quaint, it’s abuzz with activity. Similar to the Cinque Terra in terms of architectural influence. Tall houses in the same faded patna of terra cotta, pink, yellow and cream with moss green shutters, trompe l’oeil facades and pots of Bougainvillea crowding less narrow enterprise lined lane ways. But that’s where the similarities end.

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20130822-185742.jpgThe locals smile a friendly ‘Bonjour!’ They happily relieve you of your strangled french and enjoy testing their english.

‘Arretez! Vous tues langue notre!’

Stop! You are killing our language!  And they work hard at making you feel welcome. It’s refreshing, rejuvenating and spirited and you know what? It’s working.
Sparkling, azure blue ocean dotted with yachts, bay cruisers and speed boats; a balmy 32 degrees, the best bread in Europe, chilled G&T’s and a cozy, albeit tiny abode to retreat to right in the beating heart of this dear little village.

 

 

 

20130822-185613.jpg20130822-185850.jpg Stay tuned for local highlights, the low down on retail therapy in Nice and a desperately needed hair style update (lest I be labelled a Wookie)

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Oops I found Manarola…

Lovely readers! I have a confession. Took a train ride between villages without a ticket! ‘It was a ticket machine malfunction officer!’ – thankfully I didn’t need to exercise that line but dishonesty doesn’t sit well with me, albeit an accident. It all started with getting off on the wrong platform between the villages. Not a bad thing as it turns out as I had one village left to conquer. Manarola.

My train was meandering from La Spezia to the first of the five villages of the Cinque Terre – Riomaggiore, followed by Manarola, Corniglia (in the mountains), Vernazza and Monterosso before continuing on to Genoa. I’d been dozing, thought I’d missed my Monterosso stop and jumped off with the maddening crowds and into the arms of Manarola. Fortuituous indeed!

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20130822-114204.jpg20130822-114357.jpgHad the cliff clinging ‘Via dell’Amore‘ (the Lovers Walk), a narrow pathway linking Riomaggiore and Manarola, not been closed I would have walked the pathway and admired the spectacularly romantic sunsets.  Instead, a leisurely stroll through the village before returning to the train.

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20130822-114844.jpgThe village, again tucked into a tiny crevice has quaint lanes so narrow, the jumble of tall buildings clinging one atop the other, almost touch, held strong only by random stone archways. Cool, dark and perfect for dodging the drips from washing strung high above. I smile at Nona’s sweeping doorsteps and search for the little surprises that whisper of the village personality.

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Emerging at the top of the main thoroughfare, a quick glance in the local church, I light a candle then meander on down the promenade past the same linens, baskets of lemons and lazy diners emulating life in the other villages, and on to the harbour.

20130822-114636.jpgQuaint, sheltered between large jagged rock formations, smeared with bright towels and sunbathers and topped with teens daring to dive into deliciously cool water between rowboats of softy hued blue yellow and red. They do, to the raucous cheers of folk lining the narrow side steps leading to the cliff walks.

Continuing around one of the cliff paths, I discover a whole other little world tucked in behind steeper rock formations, again hosting swimmers as well as a number of large yachts anchored in the still waters.

20130822-114928.jpgExhausting the camera’s battery, I indulge in a Ligurian style pasta brimming with seafood followed by a tiny scoop of Lemon Gelato then, with a satisfied smile, slip discreetly into a tourist wave and back onto my train. Farewell Manarola, you had me at my accidental ‘hello’.

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And thus concludes my dreamy days in the Cinque Terre…have I inspired you?

Stay tuned for the French Riviera!

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Bragging rights in Riomaggiore…

OK! Gonna brag. No. Not the Instagram ‘here are my red lacquered toe nails on a beach in the Bahamas’ kind of brag. No. This is the ‘here are my Coral lacquered toe nails on a sunny terrace overlooking the magnificent Mediterranean’.

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My new home for 7 days is a small studio with a big view, sitting atop a steep winding road just above the castle behind which sloping steps sweep back down to join the start of Via Colombo, the main thoroughfare that leads down to the harbor.

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Riomaggiore doesn’t have quite the same ‘distressed’ antiquity as Vernazza and Monterosso; more fresh paintwork, wider walkways, yet the same tall houses resting against each other like drunken sailors in shades of terra cotta, soft pink and dusty green complemented with moss green shutters, washing lines and flower pots bursting Geraniums. But where are the cats?

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Via Colombo is steep and wide, two or three deep steps down the sides into shops serving fried seafood cones, pizza squares and colorful gelato; Italian linen shirts, sarongs and sunscreens, Limoncello, local wines and home made pasta. As well, little bistros and restaurants, some with outdoor elevated seating. Still haven’t found a cat.

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The road slides to a halt at the tunnel junction – to the right a very long one lined with a beautiful ocean blue mosaic leading to the train station and to the left down steps and under the railway tunnel to the harbor, ferry access and beach.

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The harbor is a sheltered enclave much like Manarola, smaller than Vernazza and crowded with colourful little boats and mossy rocks upon which bathers recline. The tiny crescent beach, accessible via a path carved into the cliff face, has bigger pebbles, smaller space and is wall to wall sunbathers, some attempting to wobble across unsteady terrain into water so crystal clear it belies the depth. A good thing for kids are diving in off the cliff. Easier and much less embarrassing access than the pebble wobble but I ain’t gonna try it. No cats.

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Unlike Vernazza there’s an absence of cats. Like Vernazza there’s the presence of church bells. Right below my door. Thankfully someone sent the memo…keep it down will you? Jane’s in residence.

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Coming soon: Another, possibly fateful, definitely horrendously steep walk from here to Manarola. Fortifying strength as we speak with a pleasant little local (wine that is) over another spectacular sunset. Oops! There I go again….

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Day in the life (brain overdrive)…

Trawl La Spezia’s Friday clothing markets – malls of stalls heaving fluorescent jewelry, bikinis, Nonna house coats in 70 shades of blue, Nonno singlets in 50 shades of white, enough cork platforms to stopper Europe’s entire wine harvest, cheap perfume and rhinestone ‘I heart Italy’ tee-shirts (curse at wasted fare, console with large glass of wine)

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Admire deftness with which Nigerian hawkers foist their cachet of designer knock off bags into sheets and turn to shadow within the whiff of a cop (and the styles were all so last year)

Puzzle over chappy cycling by with a plastic shopping bag knotted on four corners over his head (alfalfa sprouts cheaper than hair plugs?)

Laugh at supermarket lady going sparko over exploded coke bottle (whole shop sprayed a pleasant golden brown, matches her tan)

Cringe when same screams ‘Peach you NOT squeeze!’ ‘Get OFF the banana!’ as a hapless Swede attempts to buy a fruit snack (mass exodus of terrified tourists)

Perfect mantra while puffing up countless steps to cemetery for super photo moment (‘buns of steel, burn pasta carb, buns of steel, burn…’)

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20130813-183458.jpgSip ‘Aperol Spritz’ (Prosecco, Aperol, soda water), appears de rigueur, tastes like Campari (gak!) and settle in to admire sunset (and hoover complementary chips and focacia cubes, cheap nosh)

Marvel at the volume of cats under the restaurant chairs (good thing they’re not rockers) waiting for the chips to fall (haa haa)

Hear a beat, explore, get swallowed by a thumping, smoke shrouded, strobe splattered dance party squeezed between the rocky outcrops of the harbor forecourt (say what?)

Gasp at volume of black eye patches (a load of lost eyeballs for such a small village?) learn it’s a Pirate theme (someone forgot to send the memo)

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20130813-183626.jpgStare (discreetly) at skinny brown women usually found standing in doorways smoking, tittering and yapping Chow! Chow! into their mobile phones (until tourists waving money lure them back to their shops), now teetering on tall cork platforms, sporting black on black body cons, blond bouffants and enormous fluorescent chandelier earrings (Er? Fashion police, we have a ‘situation’)

Observe Nonna’s on the benches eating ice cream, old chaps throwing back Nastros and Peronis (not one of ’em pinch my bum, what is that?) and kids trying to set fire to a boat (candles lining the street prove irresistible)

20130813-183518.jpgPonder the fire twirler’s choice of music…a song about Monday when it’s Friday (who cares?) Brain explosion.

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Hear the beat ratchet up a notch, hear Romeo calling ‘Where for art thou Jane? Thou hath warmed the bed for thee!’ (yeah right). It’s 3am and I have 4 hours to cram a sleep before the 7am bells start clamoring again. Twice! Right outside my window (bloody Village alarm clock)

Just another day…

 

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Dreams to Reality

Are your dreams (career or otherwise) languishing in the ‘one day when’ box? Sometimes the smallest thing can give a dream the impetus to take wings. I found mine when I saw a blog post regarding a Writer’s Retreat, to be hosted by the inspirational Lisa Clifford and conducted in the Tuscan mountains just outside Florence, Italy. Living up to my Blog’s edict – one chance at life – I bit the bullet and enrolled and I’m so glad I did, I had a ball. What’s more I found Lisa’s own story equally inspirational. I asked if she might share via a guest blog and she kindly agreed. Over to Lisa…

20130808-203646.jpgOne of the buzzwords on the internet is ‘dream.’ Make your dream come true, visualise your dream, indulge your dream. There are programmes, foundations and projects called Dream as well as Rebuild the Dream, Dream Hotels and Dream Travel. The focus now on making your dreams come true is incredible. So to coin a lyric from Les Miserables, I dreamed a dream and joined the Dream Team…I created my dream job.

My dream for years was to organise a retreat for writers in my adopted home, Tuscany. I had already published three books, had a fourth on the way and a movie in the pipeline. It was definitely time to give something back. Firstly, to others who dream of becoming published writers and secondly to the mountains of Tuscany, the place that helped make all my dreams come true.

The idea was to design a programme that I personally would love to do, something that offered a special kind of withdrawal into a creative space. Lots of lectures from published writers and fabulous teachers, professionals who are particularly good at evaluating what you’ve written. A writers retreat that offered time to learn, time to create and exceptional private time to chat with authors who’ve made their mistakes and subsequently wanted to share how to avoid the common and not-so-common problems of working with the written word.

20130808-203637.jpgSeveral writers, along with a British Creative Writing teacher that I have worked with in the past, agreed to join me for five days of lectures. We learn in the morning, write in the afternoons and have guest speakers at night. As time goes on, more writers and creative writing teachers have joined my team.

The Art of Writing runs always in the second week of June and the second week of September. We book out an entire Tuscan agriturismo (Italian run family farms that by law have to provide 50% of local produce on their tables) with ten apartments, for ten writers. The Art of Writing groups are small and intimate, ideal for nurturing and encouraging each other.

Here is a short video of the 2013 Art of Writing. I hope it helps you think about your dream and how you too can make it come true.

2013 Art of Writing

Thanks Lisa!
For more inspiration don’t hesitate to check in on Lisa’s own sites:

http://www.the-art-of-writing.com/
http://www.lisacliffordwriter.com/

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Key inspiration. Deirdre, Jim, self, Lisa, Penny, Catherine, (Morag missing)
Key inspiration.
Deirdre, Jim, self, Lisa, Penny, Catherine, (Morag missing)

By the way, there’s a lot more to the retreat besides grasping the concept of writing a best seller as you’ll see by photos and post: ‘On finding one’s voice’

NB: Jane is currently on sabbatical in Northern Italy contemplating and acting on outcomes. Feel free to follow her jaunts on this blog. Comments always welcome!

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The thrill of a shrine find..

Oh my! Lovely readers, I can hardly contain myself! From the simplest to the most elaborate, did you know that there are countless shrines peppered throughout Italy – on exterior walls, in Grottos in the squares, along obscure pathways and by busy main thoroughfare. I love the thrill of finding them. Each one unique in both detail and the loving and devout attention bestowed upon them. Most I’ve found so far have been devoted to the Virgin Mary though various saints are also honored. I am now on a mission to capture more, camera at the ready…meanwhile enjoy those I’ve found thus far…

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Studios and shoe strings

Creating a haven in which to withdraw from the frantic pace of the world, relax and re energize is so vital to our well being isn’t it? Hence the ‘Nest’ element of the blog, and the reason for this post, for I’ve just identified, thanks to my newest holiday abode, just how easy it is to create a simple yet elegant studio on a shoestring budget! Perfect for housing a teen, a parent, a B&B or just for you. Your own little haven…your ‘man-shed’…or should that be ‘person‘-shed?

20130804-112413.jpg 20130804-112855.jpgWhereas the studio in Monterosso had only one small avenue of natural light and fresh air, making for a musty, dark abode but saved by the spectacular view from its tiny terrace, this one if full of light and fresh air. Elegant in its simplicity, comfortable and soothing to the soul. Its the white. A white that conjures up visions of crisp white Greek villas against a deep Mediterranean backdrop. Only this one’s on the Italian Riviera.

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Whitewashed ceiling and walls, white tiles, white furnishings, a splash of blue for kitchen cabinetry, simple calico swaths of fabric against the vibrant forest green of the shutters for curtains.

An old fishing boat oar of red white and blue draped across one wall, a hark to village origins. Bed linen of crisp white, cool to sun kissed skins, with just a touch of subtle dusky floral. A bathroom lined in small tiles of the same shutter green blended with a soft cream and thoughtful lighting.

But what takes it from ‘yeah so’ to ‘wow factor’ is the quality of the linens. Huge waffle weave bath sheets (yes we love our toweling but these wrap easily and dry fast!). Bed linen of brightest white and maximum thread count, essential for screaming ‘luxury’. And all finished with just a linger of Durance White Camellia pillow spray and a few strategically placed tea candles (my own little essentials). ‘Sono le cose semplici che contano’ It’s the simplest things that count.
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Corniglia and cactus toes

Cactus!

That’s what I am, cactus! Don’t you love that expression? Just trekked 4k up mountains, past cactus, through olive groves and down dales then back up more mountains to the dear little cliff-top dwelling village of Corniglia. A pathway so well travelled the erratically placed stones are shiny with wear or is that sweat?

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Breathtaking! And I’m not talking view. Though you will see that was quite spectacular by the photos, taken at intervals, for self-assurance really. Over there on that distant mountain, the reward awaits! Of the alcoholic kind.

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Meanwhile, Germans with thick brown ankles, backpacks and ski poles are zooming by. A clutch of teens in thongs (Jandals/Flipflops for the non-Aussies) are literally skipping up the path chattering away without even drawing breath. With no breath to draw of my own I bleat ‘Ciao!’ No niceties today. I pretend I’m Bear Grylls. Invincible. Nope. Not working.

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Stagger over the threshold of what I assume to be the start of the village, thrusting fist in air in defiance, I am champion!!

The rocky song running through my head I look around for a can of Solo to throw over my face and ‘slam down fast’, just to lend weight to triumph. And then I see the sign. ‘Congratulations! Your half way there’.

 

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Was it worth it? Absolutely! Did I reward myself? Yup! With a double raspberry Frappe, don’t really like Solo! The alcohol? Well, that will be my reward for floating down the 450 steps to the train station on the other side of the village without once smugly telling the tourists gasping for breath as they climb heavenward…’Congratulations! Ya half way there mate!’

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Oh Vernazza…how I love thee

Utilizing ancient crumbling cliff top fortifications to stow and revere the dead? Honoring them with the most spectacular view the village has to offer? Keeping their feet dry to be sure. The view from the window of my latest digs, tucked in midway up the Doria Castle, spreads across the whole lower village; its cliff side protection striated with grape vines and olive and fruit groves, tacked on and shackled thanks to dry rock walls held strong by an agricultural history that, day by day is sadly succumbing to abandonment for the more alluring tourist dollar. And right up there at the top, in the most prime real estate, sits again, a cemetery.

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The vista personifies exactly what one would expect of an authentic fishing village. Population 1,000; founded around 1080AD, originally a maritime base, later a fortification against Pirates and with a solid little rock protected harbor full of colorful little boats (and swimmers too, the water’s divine). Just one major thoroughfare, the Via Roma is strung with massive daisy shaped fairy lights and lined with bistrot, bars and pizzerias and the usual touristy lures, paralleled by narrow lane-ways between the multi story, multi colored villas. And then there’s the tiniest beach tucked in right behind the peninsula, access via a cave.

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20130801-102333.jpg20130801-102535.jpgTourists swamp the place by day but most disperse to the bigger villages in the eve leaving room for the dedicated, the locals and the lights of the restaurants lining the harbor to sparkle across water the color of ink.

Vernazza suffered the same fate as Monterosso in the 2011 flash flooding, here a 4 meter deep mud slide all but destroying yet saved by  the strength and character of the locals who simply and steadfastly got on with reparations. You would never know were it not for the engineers working on the water walls above the village given each of the Terre except for Corniglia sit over a watercourse, the sacrifice of nestling between protective cliffs. The locals’ tenacity reminds me of the willful ‘fuck you floods!’ attitude Brisbanites displayed earlier the same year.

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20130801-102731.jpgAs for the color of the octagonal bell tower above the quaint little church off to the side of the square with its slate scalloped dome? It variegates from a rich king island cream at sunrise to a soft dusky rose as twilight settles. Ah! proprio bella!

I love that tower.

It’s chimes shake me awake each morning!

Twice over!

Da bells! Da bells!

Geez!

 

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As Darryl Kerrigan would say…

If you love the soft hazy colors of a twilight, thought you might like a few of my favorite shots from Monterosso. As Darryl Kerrigan would say …ah the serenity!*

20130724-164716.jpg7pm: Cute little house basking in the glow of late afternoon sun

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20130724-164933.jpg8.30pm: Beaches now vacated, folk washing the sand off, slicking back hair, prepping for dinner

20130724-165134.jpg8.45pm: A moment of quiet on the usually crazy ocean pathway, about to reenergize as folk reemerge for the evenings activities

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20130724-165350.jpg9pm:The last of the ferries now departed

20130724-165732.jpg10pm: Dusk

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10.45pm: Nightfall

*from the movie ‘The Castle’

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Castrums, Neptune and a votiveship

Conquered it, lovely readers! Conquered it! I finally found the narrow stairway* up to the Capuchin Monastery and the medieval castrum that’s since been incorporated into the current cemetery, up there on the mountainside opposite my abode. Worth it? Yessir! And the view? Breathtaking!

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And did you know this dear little Monterosso al Mare village (my current abode and one of the five Cinque Terre villages) actually dates back to Roman times? And the castrum began its defense role in the early 7th century?

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Also, checked in on the remnants of the Giant Neptune bearing on his shoulder an enormous shell which was originally a dance stage. Unfortunately WW2 bombings and later, heavy seas, extensively damaged both. He sits above the Fegina beach next to the little harbour in the new town.20130724-091622.jpg
New town? Well, the village is spread over two inlets. In that of the Bruanco River, to the East, there is the historical core, while the settlement located in the inlet of Fegina, to the West, there’s the more recently developed ‘new town’. Both have beaches, unique to Monterosso, and thus are layered with deck-chairs, umbrellas and tourists.

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Population 2,000, tucked into the tiny alleys and stairways…swamped by volumes of tourists as the season picks up, the majority being village day-trippers and sun-seekers. Few penetrate as far as my eerie; deservedly if they do for they are demonstrating admirable ‘buns of steel’.

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The historic village is heavy on places of worship and despite atheist tendencies, I can’t help but be impressed by their history, humbleness and majesty. There’s the Church of San Giovanni Battista of the Gothic-Genovese style, dating back to 1244 with a proud steeple made of greenstone and which originally served as a sentinel. The oratory ‘Mortis et Orationis’ (Death and Prayer) is of the Baroque style and then there’s my favourite, the miniature oratory of ‘Santa Crose’.

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Why my fave? Well, there’s a dear little wooden ship suspended from the ceiling (known as a ‘Votiveship’; a handmade offering of thanksgiving from grateful sailors or fishermen for safe voyages) which reminds me of Telly. There’s the ever so kitsch sparkling halo the Virgin Mary’s sporting which makes me grin out loud. And then there’s the towering organ above the entrance which reminds me of my late Grandpa (a brilliant, commanding church organist). When resting in one of the pews there today, I could almost swear I heard him whisper…now that’s an organ worth playing my pet! Darling Pa? I suspect you already have.

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*Sadly, many of the Cinque Terre walks have been closed for maintenance or repair including the lover’s walk after several people were injured as a result of a landslide.image

Stay tuned for notes from Vernazza!

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When the moon hits your…

It’s my birthday today lovely readers and I’ve treated myself to a little water fun! !Let me tell you about it…

Come on in the water’s lovely’! calls one of my fellow guests. We’ve just moored beneath a majestic waterfall, the Prosecco’s flowing, Dean Martin’s crooning and the water is more than lovely, it’s delicious! Cool, crystal clear and the perfect salve to recent deck basking. Kids are playing on the green mossy rocks below the fall and we are floating over gentle waves on a batch of pool noodles singing ‘like a big pizza pie…that’s amore’. Yes and ‘questa è la vita‘ – this is the life!

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And so began an idyllic viewing of the Cinque Terre – the ‘five lands’ via a sparkling ocean dotted with Yachts, pleasure craft and our very own quaint little fishing boat.

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The cooling swim beneath the waterfall has our temperatures under control in time for a leisurely onshore feast in Vernazza. Pizza pie? Heck no! Delicate little freshly marinated sardines and squid, rich black tapenade and olive infused tomato bruschetta, paper-thin prosciutto and rockmelon and spaghetti laden with seafood, Genovese pesto Trofe pasta; and all washed down with a crisp white or two followed by a searing espresso guaranteed to keep you awake ’till Wednesday.

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20130721-170414.jpgAnother dip and back on deck for a lazy float on down past Corniglia and Manarola to Riomaggiore and back to Monterosso al Mere, admiring tiny little beaches along the way that mountain goats would find challenging yet the locals have conquered…and some of them are nude.

Eight assorted Aussies, two Canadians and one very lusty Italian – Angelo our Skipper – saw Prosecco glasses flying, olives bouncing, little kids tipping over, the boat precariously too, in the rush for binoculars. Our fabulously fun host Linda whispered that the Adonis standing on a rock with his back to us was ‘excited’. Oh yes? She chuckled – ‘An audience for a woodie?’

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Our second skipper hails from Adelaide, owns a business with 35 ‘yes sirs’ and can think of nothing better than his annual stint doing exactly this…ferrying excited tourists hungry for just one more glance at the colourful little gems nestled within impossibly narrow crevices, the lush green mountains protecting their backs, the deep blue ocean lapping their shores…ah the mighty Cinque Terre.

Now that’s Amore!

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Angelo’s Boat Tours

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Oh look! A chook!

Chook! ‘Pollo’! Freshly roasting chicken…I could smell them. Started salivating, followed the nose and there they were! And there too, in front of the van selling chickens directly off the rotisserie, were 17 Italian mamas also hell bent on claiming ‘Pollos’. Not just one, whole rotisserie forks full! And that when the trouble started.

It was ugly. Hair flew! Kids scattered. Tourists dropped their Zeppoles (donut holes). Dogs leapt up and down in the dust adding excited yapping to the cacophony of screeching Italian fishwives and, like a conductor with baton in hand enticing the best from the brass section, the chook cooker waved his empty rotisserie fork. Empty!

Took some time for the scrum to settle as the scowling women, clutching just two chooks each to their heaving breasts, dispersed into the normally peaceful Thursday markets. But why the kerfuffle?

Well it seems cooked chook isn’t as common as an Aussie barbie ‘Coles drive by’ in this neck of the woods. The ‘supermercatos’ don’t stock them and the lone village butcher takes orders a week in advance then delivers the little gems into hands waving tickets on Sunday morning between 10 am and 1pm. I learnt this the hard way. No order, no Pollo. Hmmph!

Today I scored! And you know what? That poor bird had not given up the fight without a serious battle of her own. Small, tough and coated in a golden roasted skin. Actually she reminded me of…

Meanwhile, a lovely collage of fishing nets I found piled in a little corner of the village.

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Pink Dinosaurs and Grappa…

20130716-141042.jpgHave I told you about my little nest? My abode? The one I sacrificed my first born to rent? Eh! eh! And you thought Port Macquarie Holiday Inn was a tad on the dodgy?

First up, shan’t be inviting ‘y’all over for Spag Bol and Grappa as you simply wont fit. Heck even I don’t fit! You’d likely refuse my offer anyway in fear of premature heart attack from climbing the 179 steps to get here, ‘specially with the carton of wine you’d be obliged to bring. Heck even I’m exhausted by the time I get to the 9th.

 

If per chan20130716-141059.jpgce you persevered you’d be sleeping in the bathtub for there’s only one bed, a permanently folded out sofa protruding from under thewardrobe cupboards. And it’s mine. I’ve grown quite fond of my bed…and the bedspread. It closely resembles a green and orange checked picnic blanket and is complimented with matching lime sheets the texture of table cloths. Thread count? Let’s just say, exfoliation while you sleep.

Certainly can’t hang your cloths sport because you wouldn’t reach. Even Harlem Globe Trotters wouldn’t reach. That’s what the peach pincher’s for. To hook stuff down and back up.

I might let you admire my shower curtain though.The cartoon pink, green and blue dinosaurs frolicking on beaches, some scarfing watermelon, others supping tequila sunrises, the babies building wonky sand sand castles. Heck even I’ve grown fond of it. Specially when it sticks to my butt. Makes me temporarily forget the dank odor emanating from under the sink. And the conniving bidet.20130716-141143.jpg

And you’re definitely not borrowing my splendid lime green waffle weave hoodie bath robe. Yes Hoodie! The piece de resistance and on which I grade all hotels. No robe? Zero stars.

I give this place 4 though. You know why? ‘Cos its terrace has the most breathtaking view down over the village and across the ocean…infinity and beyond. Plus a free supply of lemons to keep the G&T topped up. Oh! That’s right you won’t fit. Shame. Pour another will you Jeeves? (He lives next door you understand)

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Fabio, Umberto and ‘Cozze’…hell yeah!

Fabio called! No, not the flowing mane, Mills and Boon, goose whacked one. I’m talking Umberto’s son; tasked with the job of interpreting Umberto’s invitation to join them for dinner after a spot of sight seeing La Spezia’s best.

Quick brush up, onto train and 30 mins later I’m hurtling down narrow streets, being introduced to folk via the tiny Fiat’s windows and being given a running commentary on important buildings, churches and monuments…in splendid Italian for Umberto speaks not a word of English remember? (Fabio, where for art thou?)

20130713-143007.jpgI grasp enough to respond with ‘massiccia!’ (massive) as we drive up and around Italy’s main military and commercial harbor which hosts the arsenal of the Italian Navy, ‘mozzafiato! (breathtaking) while hugging the coastline affording spectacular views of warships, yachts and mussel beds and ‘e cosi bella!’ as we slip down into Porto Venere.

Pretty indeed! Porto Venere is a little town and commune which comprises the three villages of Fezzano, Le Grazie and Porto Venere, and the three islands of Palmaria, Tino and Tinetto. Also a World Heritage Site as are the villages of the Cinque Terra.

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20130713-142914.jpg It’s dusk and the many little bars and restaurants are beginning to fill with sunkissed tourists as we run by up a rocky promontory at the end of a series of old fortifications to the San Pietro church.

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The church blends into its environment, is small and somewhat forlorn but the aspect is ‘assolutamente spettacolare!’ (spectacular). It sits atop rugged cliffs that end in tiny beaches surrounded by an impossibly blue sea and above which towers the remains of the massive old Portovenere castle. Click, click…will photos do justice?

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A wander back through the village then break neck speed back to La Spezia in time to join Fabio and Annagarsia, Umberto’s lovely wife and indulge in huge buckets of ‘Cozze‘ and spaghetti at the Festival of the Mussel. Seems there’s a festival for everything culinary, can’t wait for the Gelato one!

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Fabio? Beautiful person, a relief to converse in English and to have him share my appreciation for their warm hospitality. Given we have another of these gigs planned late July, will be returning the hospitality when Fabio hits our Aussie shores; now that he feels a tad more assured that when they’re choosing Surfers, sharks are actually quite discerning.

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Toothpaste and testicle crushers…

Dear diary…


Will my toothpaste for 7 to 13 year olds maintain my pearly whites through an excessive onslaught of cheap red wine these coming weeks? And will using fabric softener to wash my clothes cause long term damage? Just a tad of supermarket confusion, it will pass won’t it?

Does smirking while watching a tourist laboring to fork spaghetti into his mouth before resorting to sucking directly from the plate mean I’m not the nice person I thought I was? And why didn’t his wife offer to cut it up?

A local in the Village beckoned me over today, introduced his friends, poured glasses of Prosecco all round then launched into a rapid fire Italian conversation. It was really hard to keep up but do you think he might have been welcoming me into the fold? I’m pretty sure he meant me, not the bloke walking behind?

And would you 20130712-113148.jpgput the hot frothy milk and two sugars his crusty old friend, the one with the blood red eyes and shock of white hair, was drinking into the ‘baby-chino’ category? Or should I have kept my mouth shut?

Why are songs sung in languages other than English just not resonating yet that song coming from the fellow standing on top of the Colosseum video clip, who incidentally looks just like Dr Gregory House, sounds positively sexy?

Will finally getting the gist of an Italian soap plot because there’s Italian subtitles as well as voice mean I’m finally learning the language? And should I also get a trout pout, bright yellow tan and testicle crushing kick ass platform shoes too? No wait! It’s in Spanish!

Dear Diary…does this mean I’m finally a local?
Oh! And one more thing…do you think I will ever find a Limoncello I’ll like? How many bloody brands are there? Surely that would ‘complete’ my transition?

Meanwhile, some nice photos of Riomaggiore.

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DT’s and a few other disturbances…

Uh oh! lovely readers, I’m a tad disturbed! Male tourists are strolling through the Villages wearing just their DTs.* Here I am I’m sitting in a breezy little beachside restaurant sipping my Aperol when I hear the Scot at the adjoining table muttering ‘Walk doon beach leck dat e’ oome’nye’d be knifed ye wooud!’ to the back of his girlfriend’s head. She didn’t hear; too busy eyeing up a package in a pink pair, her expression vacillating between repulsion, curiosity and lust. Oh! and hey you! Yes you, stud over there proudly sporting the white ones? It’s not cold today my friend, not cold at all.

I’m also disturbed to see every female on the beach regardless of nationality, shape, size, age or original gender sporting a bikini. The ones that don’t entirely cover the butt cheeks. Clearly ‘de rigueur’ on the Italian Riviera. My elegant one-piece suddenly non ‘de-rigueur’  – my butt screaming otherwise.

And I’m particularly disturbed that, aside from the harsh disregard for ‘slip, slop, slap,’** I’ll need to hand over €20 for a ragged deck chair, a folded umbrella and the privilege of sitting on the grey pebbly beach in very close proximity to all that DT/bikini clad slow roasting flesh. Too cosy by far.

It’s all just too disturbing so I’ve poured another wine. Today I will think about the prospect of Australia clearing the national deficit in just one week by adopting a similar ‘pay for privilege’ beach plan. Tomorrow I will start a diet consisting of a single strand of pasta and an expresso. Needs must if I’m to ‘fit in’. Meanwhile, a few snaps to put you in this distressing moment (‘cept for the DT loving men – privacy and all that)

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20130704-101135.jpg(Taken in Nice, the same scene in Monterosso – uncomfortable pebbles)

* Speedo swimming trunks, commonly known as ‘Dick Togs’ ‘budgie smugglers’, ‘junk trunks’ and ‘Tonys’. (in honour of Tony Abbot, leader of the AU opposition party, who has a propensity for red ones)

**Slip on a shirt, Slop on sunscreen and Slap on a hat – an Australian anti-skin cancer campaign.

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Sneaky damn Bidet…

As you’re probably aware the Bidet features in a large portion of bathrooms in Europe. No matter how small the room, one of them will have managed to squeeze itself in. And there’s one in my tiny little studio in Monterosso. I’m rather fond of it.

You see, if your clever and smart like I am, you can fill them with sudsy water, pop the lid down on the adjoining loo, sit sideways and pop your feet in for a nice little soak to ease fatigue or prepare for pedicure. Handy. Heck you can even throw undies and socks in and do a little dance at the same time. I’ve been doing both. And then the real washing machine arrived.

After much gabble in speedy Italian the installer identified the outlet hose needed something extra to make it fit the actual outlet…meanwhile would the bidet do? Sure no probs said I! A demonstration later, looking good, pat on the back and off he went, two further washes proving this was indeed a reliable option. And that’s when the trouble started.

Yesterday, while I was busy willing breath into the dead PC, clutched in my lap on the bed; battery out, fingers buried in its inner workings according to google suggestions for rebooting, the washing machine and the bidet were busy too. Conspiring.

In an effort to seek tissues to staunch the tears of frustration dripping into the computer’s nether regions, threw the damn thing on the bed, swung my feet to the floor and… Splot! Sneaky water quietly slinking out of the bidet from the latest wash had turned my little home into one massive great bloody lake! Shit!

Quickly grabbed mop and bucket and, while proceeding to push the water all around the room in a desperate attempt to prevent it from seeping under the front door where the owner would most certainly see disaster and up the rent, another earthquake occurred. The water shimmied and danced, that’s how I knew.

Well accustomed to earthquakes by now, pointed my snivelling nose to the sky and screamed in defiance ‘Yeah bring it on Louie!’ My downstairs neighbour, on whose head I’d recently released a cluster of his very own peaches, was back on his terrace. I know this because I heard a very loud mutter, ‘Pazzo Cagna’! ‘Crazy Bitch’ I know this too because I typed his words into my trusty Translate. Perhaps his name is Louie.

Finally averting disaster on all fronts, popped down to the village to get a few essentials including a fresh box of tissues. Packed with tourists being a Sunday, I couldn’t help overhearing a number of folk snickering behind me. Was it my hair? Did I have gum in it? A nest? Perhaps they’re just humouring my poor command on Italian? No. Three long white tags stitched to the back seam of my gym pants were fluttering gaily in my breezy wake, glaringly obvious, slap dab in the middle of my butt. I had my pants on inside out.

I think my neighbour has a point.

Meanwhile, enjoy my latest photo. It has nothing to do with this story

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Humble (peach) pie and a few new expressions…

Bonjourno lovely readers! It’s been an interesting week! Signed the SIM contract while smugly congratulating myself on my technical savvy under confirmation from the cute guy with a welcoming command on English in the Firenzian Telecom Italia Mobile (TIM) store ‘Yes madam! You can make cheap calls home and hotspot all devices from your iPhone with this 1G SIM’.

No Signora!’ Said the non-English-speaking cute guy in the TIM store in La Spezia following a desperate train journey from the Cinque Terre to find a solution to my 20130629-093930.jpglife-threatening failure to connect. Si! ‘Sufficiente per il vostro bisogno!’* Type this into trusty Google Translate and one MiFi purchase, SIM transfer, new 10G iPhone SIM for critical ‘Where the fuck am I?’ Google Maps and ‘No I didn’t ask for a washing machine!’ Google Translate later, problem sorted. Happy days. Then my mouse died.

Gesturing with a click, click motion, asked for two A size batteries for the mouse, feeling immensely proud of my clever use of sign language in lieu of the Google Translate app. ‘Si!’ Said the insouciant woman behind the counter in the small Tobacco shop lined with curling postcards and old chaps fingering betting sheets and cigarette papers. ‘Vibratore bisogno di quattro!‘** Hastily type this into trusty Translate and giggle – the bitch has a sense of humour! Five pairs of rheumy old eyes now fixed firmly on my face, smirks from weathered lips clutching smouldering roll your owns, seems laughter works in all languages. Haul myself back up the steep drive to my home clutching a fist full of batteries, pour a well-deserved wine and settle in on my little terrace to admire my clever command on Google Translate. Then the peaches beckoned.

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The blossoms have finally morphed into lush golden globes ripe for the plucking but there’s a slight inconvenience – the branch protrudes over the terrace below mine. Not to be thwarted, I carefully prize the bough to within plucking reach using a pole with a hook designed to open the cupboards way above reach in my apartment, then hear an almighty commotion. Seems I’ve dislodged a whole cluster over the unsuspecting elderly chappie sitting quietly in his usual spot below. Didn’t know he was there. Heard him though as the peaches slopped his coffee, smacked his noggin and trashed his paper ‘Che Cazzo!* Madre di Dio!’** Type the words he’d bellowed into trusty Translate and realise that although my neighbour and I haven’t yet met I may need to turn up the charm should our paths cross on steps leading down to the village. Oh! and speaking of steps!

20130629-094215.jpgAfter huffing up and down all 179 steps from the back door to the village below and back for 10 days straight, I stumble across a crooked little street that leads to a steep but short walk straight up to my front door. Che cazzo? Seems I have a Stair Master’ to the back door, ‘Treadmill’ on incline 30 to the front, peach stealing for stretches, backpacked groceries and wine bottle per hand for weights. Madri di Dio I smile – sufficient per il vostro bisogno**** for negating calories from a diet consisting almost entirely of pasta and Caprese salad (and peaches).

*Madri di Dio (Mother of God) I’m enjoying my newly learnt expressions! Suspect I’ll have quite a number of opportunities to perfect the enunciation as the months unfold too though *che cazzo (what the fuck) is that about **vibratore bisogno di quattro (vibrator need four)? Suspect I now have ***sufficiente per il vostro bisogno (sufficient for your need) to last a lifetime!

Stay tuned for a few of those Ligurian recipes from the recent cooking class!

 

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Seven days – Postcards from Cinque Terre

In just 7 days I’ve….

Indulged in a five-course Ligurian feast followed by warm, freshly plucked cherries reverently proffered by Chef and complemented with a robust Limoncello. Luxuriated over while unravelling rapid-fire Italian between my hosts Umberta and Mary and their restaurant owner friends Rosaria and Giovanni. Io amo (I love) Google Translate!

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Descended the winding 179 step pathway to the village and wandered through the tunnel connecting old town with new, yet to truly distinguish the differences for both display softly decaying peaches and cream-toned villas, bars and tiny shops tucked into cave-like spaces, all a hodgepodge tangle alongside narrow, winding cobbled alleyways.

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Admired pots of vivid red geraniums, purple and white petunias, nasturtiums and wild roses, hot pink bougainvillea and lush ivy meandering over window sills, archways and the rough drystone walls. Bicycles, the odd languid cat and elderly folk with well-thumbed newspapers under arm chattering on steps under eaves; vying for path space with the more adventurous tourists, most of which are prostrate on the pebbled beaches or frequenting the waterfront restaurants and gelateria.

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Taken a seat in the back pew of  St Johns the Baptist parish church (1282-1307), its green and white striped painted facade simulating that of the Duomo in Florence. The church, one of three, is filled with cA small wooden boat ool, musty air and eclectic homages including a wooden model of a ship suspended between two of the six sets of chandelier candelabra. A nice respite from the heat outside. I’ve put a euro in the box and lit a candle for Kent, a ritual that follows me everywhere and contributes to the maintenance of buildings such as these.

Noticed the cool updraft of the rushing waters beneath the grills across the major thoroughfare. The same that delivered the devastating mudslide that all but destroyed the village in 2011. Experienced an emotional jolt while viewing the chaos the mud landslide caused in the church alone. Photos depicting pews thrust against the alter, supplicant against the relentlessness of the torrent. A car on its side partway in the door. Statues tumbled from their plinths. With thoughts cast back to our Brisbane floods of 2011, I admire the stoic attitudes of both the Italian and fellow Queenslanders as we joined forces to restore our respective villages/city to former glory.

20130623-110635.jpgFelt a 7.1 earthquake, one of three that day, apparently, a ho-hum occurrence in these parts but enough to now have emergency items – iPad, iPhone, Kindle and Camera (sad!) a small glass angel a dear friend gifted to watch over me, a water bottle (for wine natch!) and lipstick (vanity will always prevail) – permanently at the ready by the door.

Stuffed my backpack w20130623-111216.jpgith fleshy red truss tomatoes, fresh Mozzarella cheese, bunches of basil, olive oil, rock salt and juicy nectarines at the market while basking in the robust fragrance of the cured meats and huge wheels of cheese vying for attention alongside wooden utensils and kitchenware. Pronunciation gleaned from absorbing the clatter of Italian bartering and greetings. Buongiorno! No! Meno! Prego! Si! Si! Grazie! Ciao! Arriverderci! Softer, less speed and blended enunciation than that of my recent sojourn in Florence.

Sipped wine at a bar in the square in order to steal an hour of WiFi. Wandered up the ocean, cliffside to better view the harbour, the water clear and still, a deep aquamarine and dotted with Ferries travelling between Portofino and the Cinque Terres, the five cliffside dwelling towns, once only accessed by mule trails or by boat.

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20130623-111702.jpgCreated and savoured fresh Pomodoro pasta and Caprese salad, complemented with a chilled Rose, from my little terrace, looking down on the village, my soundtrack the harmony of children singing, laughing and chanting in the school below, their joy for life calling forth nostalgia for home. Or maybe that’s the wine.

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20130623-111345.jpg20130623-111331.jpgIdentified that if I sit in a particular spot, the lemon tree shading me won’t drop its burgeoning fruit on my head. Grapevines intermingle with the tree, its tiny buds due to produce around September. Almost within reach just below spreads an apricot tree, just one bough heavy with fruit barely noticeable to begin with, now blushing pink and ripe for the plucking. I’ll find a way!

Marvelled at how the rich green foliage of the seemingly random fruit trees scattered across the slope between my villa and the village provides a sharp and colourful contrast to the soft silver of the olive trees tenuously grasping the slopes leading down to the translucent waters of the Tyrrhenian sea below. Postcard scenes that result in goldfish moments spent snapping the nuanced colours of a sky and terrain that displays four seasons in a day; from the crispness of dawn to the subtlety of twilight.  Then that magnificent, glittery moon spreading her light in an arc across the blackened water.

Smiled out loud when the church bell that chimes on the half-hour, actually played a tune at 5.30 on Saturday eve and again this morning.

Welcomed my firefly companion who moved in on my second day, intriguing with his incessant night time exploration of my little studio, his light so bright it’s hard to sleep, so I don’t. Instead, immersing myself in my beloved authors as the cadence of the restaurants below spill sated, laughing patrons into the steadily emptying laneways in search of their lodgings or the last ferry to La Spezia. The night is long.

Next week the monuments, the other villages, a Ligurian cooking class and…stay tuned!

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Post hang-over or ponce?

Looking for a post hang-over feast or simply a place to ‘ponce’ while feeding the savage beast within? Here are a few of our favourite Parisian foraging finds…

For late night satisfaction: L’As du Fallafel:

A worthy find on Rue des Rosiers, in the Marais, just off the street of our Parisian home. Its offshoot streets remain central to the Kosher butchers and boulangeries, bookshops and synagogues. Jewish food of Eastern Europe alongside that of North Africa and the Middle East, the latter on which L’As du Fallafel bases its cuisine. If your not fond of hummus mayo dripping down your arm, may just want to sit in the bustling restaurant brimming with enthusiastic conversations and efficient, smiling waitstaff. And I don’t usually like Falafels!
Tips: Excellent value. Be prepared to cue. Huge serves, may wish to share unless your feeling piglety.
34 rue des Rosiers, 75004 Paris Marais

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For cold day cosiness- Cafe Hugo

In the Bastille region this little Bistrot, situated on the inner rim of the Vosges Gardens serves a deliciously rustic French Onion Soup amongst other delights. Squeeze yourself onto a minuscule table, order a quart caraffe of Chianti while you wait and enjoy the animation of Parisian conversations around you. Coffee’s damn fine too.
Tips: Excellent value. Be prepared to brush arms with your neighbors, the intimacy providing opportunity to test your command on the language.
22 Place des Vosges, 75004, Paris

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For a fluffy sensation – Le Soufflé

A soufflé sensory overload! If your a lover of these light fluffy concoctions, indulge yourself by selecting one for each course. From mushroom to cognac, my companions took their imaginary hats off to the Salmon Soufflé, mine had already been on the floor for some time. You can walk it off by climbing the Arch de Triumph stairwell tomorrow.
Tips: Tourists appear to be ushered to the back room. If you’d prefer to be seated up front ask while booking. Booking essential.
36 Rue du Mont, Thabor, Paris (near Place Vendome)

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For a quirky Hi-Tea – Mariage Frères Salon de Thé

Open noon to 7pm, an extensive tea selection ranging from the exotic to mother’s favourite. An extensive menu, we went for the set breakfast. Small pots of scrambled egg, brioche with jam, sushi roles, prawns…an interesting selection with an eye on varying cultural breakfast expectations.
Tips: Top up the kitty. Choose wisely, ask for descriptions. Again, tourists tend to be ushered to the rear. Put your best ‘don’t mess with me’ face on and insist on your preferences if this doesn’t suit. Book an upfront table in advance if necessary.
A number of these Salons scattered across Paris. We tried 30 Rue du Bourg, Tibourg, Paris

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For a spectacular backdrop – Jules Verne

One must visit this restaurant just once in one’s lifetime and we were fortunate to share a lovely friend’s birthday here. Funky chunky up side down plates and exceptionally slender cutlery signify one’s place setting. Delicate complimentary morsels and attentive staff let one know one’s dignified place. The Degustation menus offers one an excellent choice.
Tips: One glass of wine per person with the Degustation menu. One may wish to indulge in a bottle…or two. The ‘Baba’ dessert comes with a choice of liqueur, ask to pour one’s own else one will be singing merrily upon exit, and that simply won’t do!
Tour Eiffel 6 Avenue Gustave Eiffel, Paris

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Bigger Tips:

There’s often a happy hour where favourite cocktails will come at great prices (let’s face it, that’s not hard compared to Australian prices!) along with piles of nibbles. For the truly budget conscious, heaven. Find your fave, preferably with a view of some sort and make it your local watering hole.

The wine is cheap and the house wines surprisingly good! Order a quart or half carafe and save the G&T or cocktails for happy hours.

If on a budget, avoid eateries around any of the squares, major thoroughfares, monuments or signature attractions. It’s down the back streets where you’ll find the hidden gems and authentic fare.

Order a ‘Cafe Gormande’ at dessert time and you may receive a coffee with several mini desserts, an economical way to sample dessert while telling yourself you’ve been ever so virtuous.

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Avoid fussing with your order choices. Usually limited staff and the time required to understand and grasp your request pushes out their busy schedules and leads to frustration for all.

Butter probably won’t come with your Croissant. That’s because the best are already buttery but if you need beurre , be prepared to ask several times. Same with milk for your tea.

Greet and farewell, attempt your best high school French, smile a lot and drop into the conversation that your an Australian. The French seem to be more comfortable with us and that smile will usually win over even the most jaded wait person. We are, after all, equivalent to a guest in their home.

Oh! And don’t ever eat while walking along the street, or in the street for that matter. Ever so gauche in the eyes of the French.

Would love to hear your faves and hints too!

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Benvenuto a Monterosso!

Benvenuto a Monterosso! Oh, lovely readers, I’m hearing bird song, a single church bell and the distant crooning voice of a busker on the waterfront echo across the valley leading down to sea level. The terra-cotta toned houses look like they’ve been thrown against the valley walls in the hope they’ll stick and it seems most have despite the recent flooding, repair work evidenced by just a couple of cranes.

The beach is pebbly, dear friend, it looks a tad uncomfortable though some tourists don’t seem to mind for they are languidly draped as if on our soft sands, while the more savvy sprawl on blue and white striped deck chairs under matching beach umbrellas. The umbrella hues mirror the upturned fishing boats languishing near the rocky outcrops, some of them aged and peeling, just like a few of those tourists. Clear sky and a soft hazy ocean, hard to differentiate where one begins and the other ends.

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20130618-181835.jpgPinching myself. Monterosso is definitely a worthy choice for my little sojourn, a relief because it’s not the easiest train journey if you, like me, will never be that enviable person who travels with nothing more than a backpack, velcro sandals and a vintage SLR camera slung around a neck adorned with a cheeky red scarf.

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Jostling my luggage through the La Spezia train station subway to the Cinque Terre line within just 6.75 of the 7 transfer minutes, then squeezing in with the hop on-hop off tourists doing the five towns the easy way. is not for the faint of heart. The joy of arriving on time palpable. And sweaty. And rewarded with Umberto’s huge grin. My host’s smile quickly turns to a grimace when he hoists my bag to his shoulder and proceeds to lead me to the car.

Umberto speaks not a word of English, but that doesn’t deter him from describing scenic highlights as we drive at breakneck speed around the precarious cliff-side road to my new home. A treacherous goat track winds back down to the village below, handy, though my laziness says otherwise, thighs already anticipating testosterone-fueled weight lifter outcomes.

No sooner examine my new home and contemplate the mundanity of dealing with an overdue pile of washing when Umberto’s wife Anna, who speaks three other languages but not a word of English, invites me to lunch at Il Ciliegio, their friend’s nearby restaurant. Washing will wait!

20130618-181412.jpgClassic Ligurian dishes including Antipasti Mista – assorted seafood marinated in olive oil; Pansotti del noce – tiny fish every way; mussel laden spaghetti shared from a huge cast iron pot; a swordfish steak and a fresh gelato to finish, all washed down with homemade wine. Delicious. Bellisimo!

The meal savoured under a shady Chestnut tree on a terrace backdropped with the most breathtaking ocean view, complemented with laughter at my clumsy attempts to converse, tempered by the speed with which I’m able to type into my trusty iPhone translation app.

The restaurant owners, who also speak not a word of English, later join us and, iPhone now drained, I’m content to just listen and smile right back. When Chef learns of my love for fresh cherries or ‘Ciliegio’ (the restaurant’s namesake), he plucks a bowl full of the sweet gems which we all share with a nice little sauterne and a piquant Limoncello, as the skyline faded to pink, the rest bagged for me to bring home.

Gracious, curious, warm and so very welcoming. Monterosso, the furthermost of the five Cinque Terre villages may be known more for it’s tourism and beaches than the others however it’s hospitality such as this that makes Monterosso such a worthy spot. Along with that stunning vista.

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PS: Thought my Italian was improving…until I asked for Acqua Minerale (mineral water) and was told the washing machine will be delivered on Monday…oh sweet lord…

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On finding one’s voice…

Picture this. You have just been asked to finish the following:
The boy came into the dark library and…
The sky was the color of…
She fell back into the water in astonishment…
Is it true that….?
My father, you need to understand…
On my planet we…

Not going to share outcomes other than to say there was something about the new pool boy that caused the woman to fall back into …but I digress!

You’ve just been introduced to my first hour at the ‘Art of Writing’ retreat. Held at Residence Il Borgo in the lush green Casentino region of Tuscany, Italy, a place where spiritual retreats thrive and where castles, medieval monasteries and sanctuaries generate a ‘calming of the spirit’ …a blurb I recently read and with which I heartily concur. Little wonder the locals simply call it ‘the place of emotions’.

Emotional at the best of times, mine were in overdrive. Finally, a place to make sense of the thousands of post-it notes floating around in my head! Our host Lisa Clifford, an expat, down to earth, welcoming and wise, chose the setting well, thus too her supporting cast.

James (Jim) Friel, Program Leader for the M.A and Ph. D. in writing at Liverpool’s John Moores University, visiting writer at L’Universite de Rouen, France and author of four novels, a fifth due for release, was lead tutor. Lisa (Clifford) – two books under her belt including ‘The Promise’, a third on the launch pad; Morag (Anne Fraser) – 19 published Mills & Boon novels, the 20th book, and of an entirely different genre, about to launch; Deirdre Pirro – author of ‘Italian Sketches’ and regular columnist for various publications including ‘The Florentine’ an English speaking local paper and Catherine McNamara – author of ‘The Divorced Lady’s Companion to Italy’ and two Blogs; Each added personal advice and guidance  to a rich and impressive agenda.

20130618-180332.jpgFrom left: Annie, Robbie, Matthew, Susie, Sue, Liz, Susie, Jane. In front : Lorenzo (left) and Lauchlan

Collectively we learn about finding our voice, our audience and how to craft our earnestness into intelligible sentences that said audience might actually want to read. The importance of robust research, how to meld memoirs, shape scenes and a sense of place. As well, how to edit, submit, deal with rejection, market, promote and possibly, just possibly even publish…and likely remain poor but personally rewarded for the experience.

My fellow participants, a mixture of Australian and expat, an American and an expat Italian now settled in Cairo, are interesting and interested, have fabulous stories to tell and faces as confused as mine. By week’s end for most, trepidation replaced with quiet determination.

We whipped our concepts into something that may even fly, bonded over shared Ligurian feasts cooked by the delightful Umberta, who spoke not a word of English but saved by the many who have a command on Italian (how I envy them). We also milked sheep, made pecorino and ricotta cheese from outcomes, examined one of the oldest flour mills in Europe and banqueted inside the 10th-11th century Porciano Medieval Tower hosted by its gracious owner. All in a days work, well actually six days…and they went way too fast!

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We also made a pact to support each other’s book launches. Or was that just the wine speaking? Italy, Egypt the US, Australia and the UK?…I’m already saving!

Penny who deals with all things administrative and Lisa the glue that binds, thank you!

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From left:  Deirdre Pirro, James Friel, Jane, Lisa Clifford, Penny Miller and Catherine McNamara

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Ohhh David…

At first I’m struck by the size of David’s hands, they’re enormous and surely disproportionate? The thought quickly replaced with awe as closer examination reveals vein and muscle, the hand could quite literally reach out and I would gladly grasp it. I now know where the expression ‘statuesque’ comes from. As I view the slightly frowning, thoughtful expression etched on his face I can feel the intensity of emotion as he devises a strategy for slaying Goliath. The Statue of David, finally viewed first hand.

I officially declare this a day of statues!

20130608-114905.jpgTearing myself away from my new love, I make my way to the Piazza della Signoria to take a snap of a copy of Michelangelo’s Statue of David as photos are not allowed in the Accademia. 

Next a peek inside the Palazzo Vecchio where I fall in love with a pair of sweet Lions.

 

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20130608-115104.jpgNext an up close and personal sojourn with thestatues residing in the Loggia dei Lanzi. 

Baccio Bandinelli’s Heracles and Cacus; two statues by Giambologna. The equestrian statue of Grand Duke Cosimo I. And one of my personal faves, the Rape of a Sabine, the fine detail of fingers pressed into her flesh continues to intrigue. Beautiful work. As well, Cellini’s Perseus and Medusa.

And of course who can ignore the Neptune Fountain, designed by Ammanati and particularly spectacular at night.

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Right, Statues done, wrap the morning by finding a tiny little restaurant with the very best spaghetti yet…but that’s another story!

NB: If you are considering an exploration of Florence and surrounds, check out ‘Beyond the Yalla Dog’ web site Beyond the Yalla Dog

 

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Two Cinque Terre Nonas…

Hello my lovely readers. It’s Jen and Jane (Fifi & Pixi Trixibelle from our former travels). We’ve just put our lives in the hands of a crazy Italian tour guide who has been issued with instructions to show us and our fellow companions the Cinque Terre region. For Fifi an extension of our previous visit, for Pixi a tad of familiarisation with her soon to be new home.

20130606-185842.jpgA minor setback…rain! Bucketing! When yesterday there was none, today necessitating brollies, raincoats, and hoodies and we have ’em all…just back in Florence. Fifi is NOT amused!

Two Nana raincoat purchases later, the vision of poor sad backpack bedraggled Fifi and Pixi quickly transgressed into fits of giggles and the need to emulate Quasi Modo…da bells! da bells!

20130606-185856.jpgWhile Fifi refuses to fight stairs in the pouring rain, Pix forges ahead to capture grey mist driven views of the usually vibrant hillside villages. Tiny softly muted houses clinging to cliff sides, boats bobbing in the turbulent harbour, fishermen waiting patiently for a break in the clouds, brightly coloured boats upturned and scattered across the rocks and slipway…the vision is beautifully raw, rugged and wild. Just imagine what it will look like on sunny days?

Fortunately, the day is saved by a lovely little crab linguini and a crisp white to wash it down in a little seaside restaurant, followed by Plan B…a visit to the pretty walled city of Lucca, which also happens to be the home of Pinnochio’s creator Carlo Lorenzini, better known by the pen name Carlom Collodi. Or his Mum’s home at least for apparently the jury’s still out on exactly which village can claim ownership. Bet ya didn’t know that!

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A long, glorious, wet, majestic day filled with the richness and vibrance of both the Tuscan and Ligurian regions, wrapped up with a warm shower back in Florence followed by a hearty dish and robust red wine to warm the chilled bones on this, my last moments with my dear friend before she returns to Australia, and I return to this village as I commence my sojourn (with my trusty nana raincoat)

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Lonely Firenzian snapshots…

My traveling friend is winging her way home and I’m now on my own. Totally alone, a tad daunted and feeling misplaced in a sea of Italians and tourists. Determined to shed the ‘tourist’ label and become officially ‘local’ I head out with purposeful stride, a determined smile…and a list.

20130606-222451.jpgBuy train ticket for Monterosso and an Italian SIM card, a triple A battery for my Bose NC headphones (no you dirty minded persons, ‘they’ take size C!!), a ticket for The Accademia to later see Michelangelo’s Statue of David and generally wander…and what a lovely experience…

A thunderstorm without benefit of the three raincoats and two umbrellas back in the Hotel. No matter, it’s only water. Warm raindrops, hot paver steam, lightening. I’m afraid of lightening yet view it with disengaged curiosity. A 50 minute queue to buy train ticket at the Santa Maria Novella Salone Biglietti. No urgency, take your time, I’ve all the time in the world. And I do.

A young Italian couple 20130606-222239.jpgin heated hand gesturing argument. She walks away. He doesn’t follow…a relationship breakup with one witness…me. Tourists with brash American accents seeking off street leather outlets, gelato dripping down their arms. Mine’s in check.
Polizia gossiping on corners, Nigerians hawking umbrellas, women coveting jewelry on the Ponte Vecchio while their men sit patiently in nearby Ristorantes sipping beer and sweating over smoldering credit cards. Leather markets in full swing, the banter, the colours, the smell. Another couple, lips locked in passion oblivious to curious passers by. Observed break up now negated.

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20130606-222637.jpg Waiters spruiking punters to their Ristorantes only to studiously ignore them once seated. The pretty carousel in the Piazza Della Repubblica. The magnificent Duomo, marbled greens, pinks and whites freshly rain washed and sparkling to the thrill of photographers gathered around her base. My iconic compass for finding the way home.

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A classical guitarist, a comedian, a jazz trio, a singer, pavement chalkers, live statuettes all clamoring for attention, hawking their talents to win meagre coins from jaded tourists. Endless visual feasts and photo moments.

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Now officially exhausted, sipping a Chianti, fighting a persistent Pigeon for my Bruschetta while marveling at the ambient sunset bathing the city from my terrace table. Duomo bells ringing, swallows fluttering, I stroke the ladybug silver trinket on my leather wristlet, a testament to friendship and gifted by my dear traveling friend, and conclude…Florence really is a mighty fine place to commence a journey of discovery.

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Sombre at the Somme

Cross upon cross, headstone upon headstone, row upon row, so many etched with ‘Unknown20130602-184623.jpg Soldier’; monumental Memorials roll-calling the names of the thousands who can never be acknowledged with a cross or a headstone. Each site respectfully tended regardless of nationality interred, the Germans distinguished by grey crosses within a quiet field of their own. Like our own, they were just young men sent into the same bloody, senseless battles. Each one heartbreakingly young; seeing, experiencing and succumbing to horrors we can’t begin to imagine. But you probably know that anyway, a part of our ANZAC history…a raw, gut-wrenching sacrifice of human life.

Starting from Amiens we visited the 1918 battlefields at Villers-Bretonneux and an imposing Memorial commemorating nearly 11,000 Australians who died in France but have no known grave.

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From there to the village to visit the Franco-Australian Museum full of Australian photographs and memorabilia, then Pozières where so many Australians lost their lives over the summer months of 1916.

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Followed this with a visit to the Thiepval Memorial to the Missing – 72,000 British and South African men in this case. Also visited the Newfoundland Memorial Park at Beaumont-Hamel where we walked through the zigzag trenches still evident almost a century later. Oh my. We struggle to remain composed as our guide describes unimaginable scenes played out there.

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Also visited a special spot where Jenny’s Great Uncle was interred and where she planted a small 20130602-185214.jpgAustralian flag and memorial. So nice to recognise and acknowledge at least one of the so very many who sacrificed their lives on the Somme battlefields.

Initially ambivalent about the trip, rewarded with a whole new appreciation for the courage and bravery acknowledged, appreciated and respected by this little part of our world.

 

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Thanks Claude!

Admired Monet’s famous water lily series at the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) in NYC some time ago and fell in love with the soft, subtle light the artist had managed to capture. Later to learn the man had actually painted over 250 variations of those lilies, the outcomes now scattered across the globe. How fortunate to be able to view the actual source of that inspiration?

Yet it’s just a garden, a 20130528-165445.jpgtad larger than average but just a garden. Similar flora busily blossoming right under our noses in our own country…in our parks, over the neighbor’s fence, on window ledges, by the side of the road, heck even doing their bit in old tyres turned into swan shaped planters so frequent to the central west and many a Nana’s back yard. And all thanks to folk who share the same passion as Monet did. But how often do we take the time to appreciate a gardener’s efforts? I make a note to take the time to do so from now on.

Seasonally dependent, reliant on just the right weather mix (the waterlilies were yet to open due to unseasonably cold weather), bud to bloom to wither so rapid, fleeting. Thank goodness Monet was inspired to capture the beauty of his Giverny garden for us all to enjoy, all year round.

Thanks Claude

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The Cosy Cote Canal

Looking for a cosy, quaint B&B in Bruges? Beautifully appointed, tastefully decorated, each suite lovingly decorated in the colors of the owner’s favorite Wedgwood.

Cote Canal - Bruges
Cote Canal – Bruges

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On Monasteries and Falafels…

Mont Saint-Michel – a Gothic-style Benedictine abbey surrounded by a small village at the foot of its walls – is really quite a technical feat considering it was built between the 11th and 16th centuries with granite that had to be floated across a kilometer of exceptionally powerful oceanic tides. Bordering Normandy and Brittany, the island has held strategic fortifications and since the eighth century AD, has been the seat of the monastery from which it draws its name.

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Interestingly, the structural composition of the town exemplifies the feudal society that constructed it. On top God, the abbey and monastery, below this the Great Halls, then stores and housing, and at the bottom, outside the walls, fishermen and farmers housing. Well you all know your place now don’t you! And that’s your history lesson for the day.20130525-161456.jpg
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Eight plus hours there and back plus three on the island making for a huge day with a very chilly wind factor but worth the effort just to see Fifi’s face when ever corner turned revealed yet another bunch of cobblestone steps. Then she discovered the art of hitching a ride on Pixi’s coat tails!

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Arrived back foot sore and weary and just managed to stagger to L’as du Fallafel on rue des Rosiers to share a Falafel. Purported to be the best in town (the Marais is the Jewish district after all) and substantiated by satisfied grins as we made our way around the corner to home and bed.

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Sacré-Cœur it’s cold!!

Worn the soles off shoes, the limited winter woolies off backs and the smile off Fifi. She needs a warmer jacket STAT. Pix is tiring of her black puffer, black knits, black jeans. She needs red jeans STAT! Shops first, but not before we share the last couple of days…

Proud to say we’ve totally mastered the Metro now! Jumped off at Père Lachaise to view Jim Morrison’s grave – a pile of curious tributes atop, and a sad chap weeping as he took photos, for him it appears the legend lives on. Climbed to the top of the Cemetery to view Edith Piaf’s too and a number of other noted individuals along the way.

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20130524-094636.jpgFollowed this with metro ride to the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur. Man that’s a lot of stairs! Discovered a Vernicular after we got to the top. Having admired the Basilique’s brilliant white from afar and now, four visits to Paris later, finally viewed at close quarters. Interior underwhelming but admit to being smitten by the modernity of the Sacre Familia back in Barcelona.

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Wrap the day by joining the two D’s for a wine bar rest stop followed by a nosh including Steak Tartare in a cute little eatery. Couldn’t stop grinning at the thought of Mr Bean skit where Bean realises its raw meat and proceeds to hide forks full under table settings rather than admit he doesn’t like it. I do, but not an entire side of cow worth, the meals are rather large here. Finished off with a Creme Brûlée which we all concluded was absolutely splendid.

Five am rise for Mont San Michel tomorrow…gak!

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Oh for the love of Hermes…

Each time I’ve had the good fortune to travel I’ve never indulged in shopping soirées other than to seek out a special little treat for family, friends and colleagues back home. My bliss lies in art galleries, book shops, local kitsch and people watching over the rim of a perfectly rounded out skinny flat white. Oh! and trawling the fabulous weekend food markets of course, an absolutely compulsory feast for the senses.

There is one exception though….shhhh! It’s my guilty little pleasure! Just one small enamel bracelet from the house of Hermes in Paris. A special treat, a nod to the city, a salute to one of the premier brands and a timeless reminder of the good times spent there.

If you happen to love those little orange boxes with brown ribbon and are well acquainted with the home of the Birkin and Kelly Bags, silk scarves and fine leather, created in what was once a saddlery, later morphing into a global fashion powerhouse, you will find these little known facts about Hermes rather fascinating…

1) The length of thread necessary to make 1,000 scarves is equal to the distance between earth and moon. One silk moth yields one scarf!

2) The Kelly bag is made with 36 pieces of leather and 680 hand stitches

3) A silk colourist works with a chart of 75,000 hues to create new colours each season

4) The leather ateliers receive more than 600,000 skins a year, each has a barcode to keep track of its origin and specific treatment

5) Hermes’s start in fine jewellery came from working with silver to trim saddles

Makes that tiny little enamel bracelet seem positively pedestrian by comparison doesn’t it?

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(Facts by Robert Murphy for Harpers Bazaar April 2013)

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Barcelonian highlights…

Loving Barcelona!

20130521-232936.jpgThe moody tones of the chic, sleek Hotel Alma

20130521-233330.jpgThe quirky work of Antoni Gaudí

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20130521-233151.jpgStreet buskers, including a very clever little dog who sings the blues

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Food glorious food…

Summary? This place is an absolute must see!

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Paris…chilly Paris

Two thirds of my suitcase consists of cute little summer outfits in which I had hoped to impress you Paris, so what’s with the cold and rain? It’s spring and a girl can only wear a puffer jacket with a dead cat trimmed hood for so long!

Yesterday a wander around the Marais, the arrondissement we’ve chosen to make our home this time, including the Place des Voges square and the gorgeous little rue des Rosiers filled quaint shops and Jewish fare including the best Falafels in town. We’ll test this out we promise!

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Today a trip to Galeries Lafayette, currently stocked with fabulous summer colours but with zero takers, instead Fifi headed for the jewelry department while Pixi worshipped at the Lingerie floor shrine.

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A tad of retail therapy bliss later, lunch at Les Deux Musees where the girls indulge in French Onion soup followed by a fight with Escargot (they really are ‘slippery little suckers’) washed down with a Vin Blanc, Rosé and a Rouge and topped off with delectable little cream puffs. The experience making all brave enough to face queuing in the cold to enter the Musée d’Orsay. Wandering the gallery of impressionist artists, a tidy collection of Art Nouveau pieces and viewing that magnificent clock serving as a reminder of the building’s train station origins, a perfect way to while away a chilly wet afternoon.

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Back to our cosy little nest via a bit of bumbling around in the Metro while singing ‘I love Paris in the spring time’ hah! to put feet up and remind ourselves that She really is a beautiful city, regardless of her current weather temperament.

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Tapas, tapas!

A Barcelonian visit would not be complete without a wander through the streets to sample the local fare. Our faves:

Cervecería Catalana – renowned for it’s tapas and an excellent little breakfast spot. Petite Spanish Omelettes stuffed with potato, served with slender, crunchy tomato rubbed bread fingers. ‘Huevos Cabreados’ a curious dish of shoestring fries with fried egg and spicy salsa, blended into a big mush at the table by the waiter…a novel take on egg ‘n chips and sure to be a Pom pleaser. All washed down with sweet freshly squeezed orange juice and superb coffee.

Sangrias on La Rambla, a popular pedestrian street, impressive but way overpriced, served by a rude, tourist jaded waiter. Sipping the big bowls while people watching the cruise ship exodus of chubby folk in three quarter length pants, sneakers and NYC t’shirts made the effort worthwhile.

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Irati Taverna, a fabulous stand up bar in the old quarter, interesting morsels washed down with a fruity local red.

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Pinotxo at the Boqueiro Markets. Watch them cook hot tapas morsels with market fresh findings that vary by the moment, we tried rabbit ribs and fried artichoke hearts.

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Botafumeiro Restaurante for purportedly the best Seafood Paella in town. Shared an exceptionally tasty one quite unlike the usual yellow fare being hawked near the Park Guell and other touristy spots. Superb service too.

Fab food, good buddy, sunny skies…loved Barcelona. And now to Paris!

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Barcelonian brilliance…

Astonishing, spectacular….mere words fail to describe La Sagrada Familia’s interior. It quite simply took our breath away (not easy as those who know us will attest!). Gaudi’s vision knew no bounds when he commenced the project in 1882 and to this day, the Cathedral remains a work in progress.

When asked the estimated completion date, Gaudi said there wasn’t one as the client wasn’t in a hurry, God had all the time in the world. Now entrusted to the hands of current engineers and architects to complete and reliant on benefactors, donations and tourism to fund. Photos simply don’t do justice.

What a vibrant, eclectic city is this! Hitched a ride on the big red bus to familiarize then wandered to view earmarked places dominated by Gaudi’s whimsical work including La Pedrera and the Park Guell, fueled with Sangria, Tapas and Paella along the way and wrapping up around midnight, just as the locals were coming out to play.

Tomorrow, a leisurely stroll around the shops and Saturday markets…so much to see, so little time!!

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‘In Bruges’

Pixi’s* luggage contains a dead body, or so it seems such is it’s weight, six months worth of costume after all; Fifi*on the other hand has no excuses….four weeks! But why the fuss? Well the damn trains have stairs now don’t they…didn’t receive that memo! New muscles and a fresh batch of swearwords or convincing willing males to heave our bags up and down on our behalf? We take the latter.

20130518-180247.jpgHello Bruges. Arriving at the ever so quaint ‘Cote Canal’ B&B, our gracious host Caroline welcomes us to beautifully appointed suites overlooking the canal while sharing the city’s highlights. We learn that Colin Farrell actually lodged in Fifi’s suite while filming ‘In Bruges’…the room also referred to as the honeymoon suite or ‘play room’. Hearing this my mind starts to wander …Fifty Shades of Grey…me and Colin, Colin and I. But I digress!

20130517-004602.jpgWe also meet Fidel, a friendly Labrador quite famous for doing absolutely nothing but snoozing in the window facing the canal to the delight of boats laden with tourists plying the waterways. Commercials, the movie, postcards, tourism brochures all under his belt, a star completely oblivious to the paparazzi.

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Such a pretty 20130517-004739.jpglittle place is Bruges! Orientate with a canal boat cruise, horse and carriagejaunt and a stroll across the ‘golden triangle’ scenic spots, iconic monuments, galleries and churches.

Michelangelo’s Madonna and Child statue inspires, as does the peacefulness of the Beguinage, which once housed ‘Beguines’ (women who led lives of religious devotion, usually in the same house or community but without joining a religious order) for over seven centuries. One of the few remaining and now a monastery for the Benedictine sisters.

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A Belgian beer, Flemish stew, Belgian waffles and afew Speculaas biscuits later we retire to compare photos, rest cobblestone weary feet and sip Belgian hot chocolate. Did you know the Flemish prefer to consume their chocolate at breakfast? Grated or chunky over cereal, on toast, on their fruit? I like their style!

Stay tuned for Barcelonian highlights! The city rocks!!

*If you followed the last European jaunt, you will recall Pix and Fifi plus an additional bunch of characters…if not, see April-June 2011 archives.

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Good bye Dubai…’ello London!

A traumatic 38 hours and tattered sense of humor later, arrived at the very funky Hotel Megaro in London with just three things on our minds…stiff drink, hot shower, wa20130514-063037.jpgrm fluffy bed.

Thanks to flight cancellation and unscheduled layover in Dubai, had arrived 12 hours too late to enjoy a lazy Sunday exploring London through David and Helen’s eyes. For those of you who followed the 2011 European jaunt, I’m talking about the very famous cousin Rupert and his lovely wife Hortense who hail from Cambridge.

Having failed dismally with the ‘suck it up Princess’ self talk, more than happily obliged when the concierge insisted we go to the bar before checking in. Seems the sneaky pair refused to be out done by a mere days worth of plans going awry and had secreted themselves there to surprise us.

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Thank you David and Helen for your thoughtfulness and generosity; for the postcards of London viewed from ‘The Shard’ in lieu of the tour; the sublime Belgian chocolates that served as breakfast on the Brussels bound train next morning; the delectable Rosé gratefully consumed to celebrate arrival in Bruges…and for your love. See you in Italy!

 

 

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Bali High…lights

Hiya lovelies! As the last of the gang make it home tonight, I’ve gathered a few highlights for those considering a visit to Bali (or not) and for those who have already been, a chance to reflect on their own special memories…

Our Speedy Visa Man – who for a small fee, whisked us through the arrival mayhem and into the warm night air and our Villa-driver within mere minutes.

Body Works – for the best manicures, pedicures, facials, body and hot stone massages and waxing gurus…No! Strike the last, she had a mean glint in her eye and a sadistic laugh!

The tiny offering – little woven baskets on doorsteps and in the arms of the many shrines, their content so intriguing, from rice cakes and cigarettes to money and Oreo cookies; and the orange kitten who climbed Ku De Ta’s shrine daily to feast from said offerings.

Surprise and Enthrallment – the expressions on a young Balinese girl’s face when she looked through Binoculars for the first time, thank you Bret for making her day so memorable.

Xmas Wrapping Compromises – creative pressies artfully hand decorated housing hours worth of giggles, thank you guys!

Blow up floating devices – kept us pool cool and made for great gifts for the Balinese kids post return flight.

Sunsets – now fully appreciate why it was Telly’s favourite time of day…a toast to you on the high seas my boy.

Nusa Dua – and our Komodian boat driver for calmly negotiating through an ocean thick with every conceivable water sport operating simultaneously within a 2 kilometer radius. A preference for airspace with 9 other Para-sailors or water space with multiple jet skis, banana boats, long boats, fly fish and the jet boats towing the Para-sailors?

Turtle Island – for the dear Hijab adorned tourists who insisted on having their photo taken with Bret and Steve who, for just a very small moment, fancied themselves rock stars.

Luwak coffee – hmmmmm. Kopi luwak or civet coffee that includes part-digested coffee cherries eaten and pooped out by the Asian palm civet. Jury still out on this one

The Balinese – so humble, kind, friendly, gentle…simply beautiful people.

Dewa and Putu – our intrepid drivers who educated us on Caste differences and the significance of the many cultural ceremonies; and for their patience, humor and warmth.

Palm fruit – a new taste sensation, interesting!

Rock Bar – the perfect spot to admire the country’s magnificent sunsets, sipping cocktails while casually hanging off a cliff face. Or maybe wallowing in the cliff edge infinity pool just below. Ayana resort itself rather splendid too. Next time. And finally…

Our travel buds – Miss Rynnie ‘n Mr Stephan, for being able to hang out sans makeup in our jammies, commiserate with one another over the state of our tums as well as explore the temples, the streets, the odd volcano, ocean floor and the bestest nosheries, all off the back of a daily gym workout! … love you both and thank you for your friendship and companionship.

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Girl’s gotta eat!

Well my lovely readers, as the Balinese holiday winds down, how could I not talk food? Seminyak plays host to an amazing array of nosheries and the gang, keen to let their taste buds do the talking, went exploring. Here are our highlights…

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Sarong. A blend of complex yet pure Asian fusion flavours served in ambient Balinese luxe. Chilli, lime and honey Margheritas, tender oysters bathed in a coriander and chilli lime dressing, soft shell crab with green mango and tamarind chilli dressing…note a theme here? Cucumber sticks nesting in ice, coupled with an intriguing coconut tapioca dessert, provided a welcomed ‘chilli’ reprieve before taste buds deserted the building. BJ…Chef of few words thought this place was the ‘mut’s nuts’ and the gang concurred…hot ‘n spicy lovers rejoice!

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Le Lucciola. Thatch-roofed, bi-level, bumping up against a palm studded beachfront, the Frangipani lounge the perfect place to sip an Appletini and graze on mud crab and lime sorbet while watching yet another spectacular Balinese sunset.

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Starfish Bloo at the W for sheer splendor, the suspended birdcage seating alone enticing one to climb in and sway to the gentle breezes with cocktail in a tippy cup. The clean, sensational flavors of my sashimi, miso prawn soup and lime sorbet were on point. You’ll also love the simple touches including a pump pack of ‘Bugger Off’ spray, magnifying glasses and torches to read the extensive menu as the sun sinks below the horizon. And what about those snazzy bathrooms!

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Ku De Ta, trusty fave for long leisurely breakfasts on sprawling lounges while watching the beach venders ply their wares to the unwary (look for the ever present black pirate kite). Pumping chill out music vibes and a damn fine luncheon menu too, not to mention our fun and funky celebratory Xmas nosh. Oh! And another lux bathroom, and yes I’m clearly fixated on bathrooms!

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Samaya’s ‘Breeze’ for late afternoon cocktails, corn fritters and mini burgers, munched water’s edge whilst basking in yet another glorious sunset. The overwhelmingly friendly service, a mighty fine evening menu. New Year’s eve a mix of quirky horns, random fireworks and a mighty countdown leading to one hell of a blast as we saw the New Year in.

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Sea Circus, for splendid coffee, tastebud heaven chilli prawn quesadillas and divine avocado corn fritters and it’s just around the corner from Body works – THE one stop body maintenance shop. A huge bunch of staff with no apparent strategy and ready to argue that you DID order the random coffee they’ve just delivered to your table. Bless ’em!

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Potato Head, currently the most uber cool place to hang, brilliant conical structure composed of recycled shutters housing a groovy bar, several restaurants and again, splendid beach front sunsets. The place bordering on overrated and under-friendly and we really would have liked to dispel that initial impression had we not been forced to cancel much coveted dinner booking due to unhappy tummies. THE place to be seen NYE, a number of spiked drink reports saying otherwise.

Grocer and Grind robust coffee and breakfasts, just don’t order a takeaway bacon ‘n egg muffin …runny yolk and white t-shirts don’t mix but hey! Wet wipes! Perfect for post seafood sticky fingers, food and drink spill stain removal. Stock up on them. Lots ‘n lots of ’em.

I’m sure you have many more yum spots to share, please do.

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A few zen moments…

Hi there beloved followers, isn’t it amazing what a rainy day can do for your spirit, your soul. New Years day in Bali…a day of enforced relaxation, a chance to read, create with fun iPad apps, watch old movies, reflect on the year that was and plan for the year ahead. Been reading ‘The Happiness Project’ by Gretchin Rubin, inspiration at its best and quite possibly a blueprint for my own project, meanwhile a few photographic highlights of our holiday thus far…

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Glorious sunsets…

Can’t get enough of the glorious Bali sunsets…enjoy!

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To the top of the Volcano driver!

Well almost lovely readers…more to the rim where we consume a third of our body weight in Indonesian smorgasbord having been on the road since 7am, sans Breakfast, and which almost immediately vacated said body but damn it tasted good while it lasted! But I digress…

Started with a quick exploration of a silver shop, a bypass of the wooden carvings, kites, metal and quartz specialists and on to a temple where our driver, the kind, sweet Dewa, helps us don sarongs in respect for the gods before letting us loose to wander amidst ancient monuments bathed in moss, marvel at the massive Koi in the lake, strike silly yoga poses and listen to the tinkle of laughter from children playing in one of the ponds.

All the result of a slight sugar high thanks to a visit to a farm specializing in Kopi Luwak coffee. For the unfamiliar, that’s a coffee originating from Mongoose (Palm Civet) poop. These little chappies (mean little buggers too!) carefully select the best cocoa beans, have a good old munch then poop them out, from which the now semi digested bean is harvested, husked and ground into the most rare and expensive coffee on the planet. Now what exactly was going through that ingenious farmer’s head when he hit upon that idea huh?

Well we tried some, along with eight other coffees, teas and chocolate mixes while admiring the rice paddys, the teas rather sweet and pleasant in lieu of that missing breakfast! A very special moment when our little 17yr. old Balinese guide looked through binoculars, kindly offered by BJ, for the very first time…her reaction and sheer delight at seeing the other side of the valley was palpable.

After lunching on Kintamani volcano’s lip, a downward drive to Ubud where we half heartedly wander the streets in heavy humidity, ducking for cover just as the skies burst, then join the throngs of people wading through the now deluged streets, a risky exercise indeed for many of the deep drains are missing their covers. The water to our knees and way too deep to see the path, the road, small drowning children (slight exaggeration there) but you get the picture, we giggle and slosh our way back to Dewa.

Continuing through the lush green of rice and fruit fields we smile at slender, silken sarong clad women carrying baskets on their heads, the beautiful locals and clusters of ducks in paddy fields. As well, the many, many Mopeds piled high with families, baskets, pigs and chooks as we are finally thrust into the chaos of Denpasar’s traffic and on to Seminyak and the little hole in the wall called home

What a rich tapestry this country presents and I can see why people are drawn back time and again. Quite magic indeed!

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And so this is Christmas…

There’s a Christmas tree in the foyer, it looks a tad forlorn but testament to how caring and considerate the Balinese are toward those who celebrate this tradition. We’ve ‘temporarily borrowed’ a few baubles and despite the lack of wrapping paper and ribbon for our presents, created our own shrine to Christmas consumerism.

On the pressie front Bret’s most enchanted with his Justin Bieber in 3D book, I’ve yet to find ‘Wally’, Steve’s glitter, sparkle ball is still working it’s magic under the sofa and Lynnie’s still pondering on what wish 69 in her Wish Book might involve. Serious pressies as well, lots of laughter and a tear or two as we chat to family back home.

Follow up the morning’s festivities with a French Martini before frocking up to indulge in a local take on traditional Christmas luncheon fare at Ku De Ta, later chilling on the grass to observe Santa and various elves in curious costumes weave their magic with the kiddies before tuning in to the reggaesque (nice word…made it up!) tones of Michael Franti who quickly whipped the crowd into a noisy, bouncy frenzy. Just cause for heaving our hot, tired, sticky selves back to the Villa for a cool swim followed by a walk on the beach and Pizza…the perfect conclusion to a Christmas day in Bali.

A very special thank you to Janine, Alan & Gabe, Steve & Lyn and of course Mr Brettles…you collectively made this day perfect!

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It’s getting hot in here…

The folks here seem so laid back! So said one of the posse here in Bali sharing a well deserved break from our respective Aussie routines. Laid back indeed…even the Koi in their prolific ponds are napping. We’ve discovered why…it’s too damned hot to do anything else but lie in water, sip fruit imbibed concoctions and…well…wallow! The act of simply moving from A to B is a hot, sweaty and exhaustive business and definitely not for the faint hearted!

Easy business avoiding the Christmas tree with an ominous sign attached warning ‘high voltage, do not touch’. Learnt the art of tip toeing around that nasty hybrid sausage dog in our lane determined to take an ankle as trophy to justify his own napping on the job. But there are only so many ways a girl can pretend to look chic in her cotton shift while waddling, legs apart in the hope of capturing a small breeze sufficient to pry her sweat infused thighs from their embrace while discreetly mopping the waterfall cascading down her back before it trickles all the way to her thongs and creates an embarrassing squelch, squelch; at the same time deftly dodging the many small offerings left for the gods and gaping holes that make up the footpaths.

Yup! ‘Tis hot here and the streets fraught with danger but all I care about is finding the shop with the strongest air conditioning. That shop wins! Hands down! Every time! Therefore am afraid your all getting t-shirts for gifts so get over it ok? Now to hit the pool…preferably filled with ice! And something containing alcohol, fruit and…ice. Lots and lots of ice.

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Ah! Beautiful Bali…

Beautiful Bali…balmy, lush green, frangipani scented…and raining. But that’s ok, today requires a wind down and regroup, it’s been a long drought ‘tween holidays.

Our Villa, tucked away in a tiny Seminyak back street behind high bamboo camouflaged walls is expansive….open to let the cool breezes in, subtly lit, abutting the warmest pool and spa…ambience personified. A good choice Lynnie ‘n Steve who, by the way, have just toddled off to a Gym! Tough Mudder competition just 4 weeks away and they’re now in panic mode. Bless!

BJ’s wallowing with coffee and newspapers on the day bed, chortling at the fact he’s currently a millionaire (in Rupee) and trying to prioritise…Coffee? Shops? Another swim? TV?

Me? Well my six leisurely paddles up and down the pool should do it. Enough to work up an appetite for the big tropical breakfast about to be delivered.

Later…..
Long leisurely swim, dinner at Samaya ‘Breeze’, a glorious sunset…sleep. Terribly hedonistic yes…and loving it!

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Lake Como…Relais Regina Teodolinda

Lake Como.

George Clooney just sprang to mind didn’t he?…and not a bad ambassador for this breathtaking little piece of the world I must say.

George aside for the moment, this magnificent piece of Italy absolutely must be added to your list of places to visit while there. Why? It’s simply breathtaking for one, and if you have fabulous accommodation right on the Lake, deep blue water sparkling in the sunshine, a warm breeze on your face…well you may just feel you’ve died and gone to heaven.

20120408-180337.jpgAt least we did, the experience quite possibly enhanced by the sleek jet boat and it’s handsome driver who gave us a tour of the Lake, let us loose in the petite village of Bellagio, ferried us to a most memorable luncheon experience at a lovely little cliff clinging restaurant in celebration of Donna’s birthday, discreetly pointed out places where many movie scenes have been shot and celebs have taken up residence, before finally returning us to the waterside door steps of the Relais Regina Teodolinda.

At your request, continuing the series of Fabulous Finds…Chateaus, Maisons and Villas series…you may wish to add this one to your itinerary…

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                                                                     Via Vecchia Regina 58, 22010 Laglio, Italy

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Venice…Palazzo Giovanelli

Venice has long been on my travel agenda, same for my traveling companions Jenny and Ross and thus we found ourselves toting luggage from the carparks to the water bus to find our way to our Venetian accommodation…this part of our European journey alone worthy of great reward for managing with elegant aplomb…a very stiff G&T, but I digress…

20120404-220051.jpgImagine our relief when we stepped off our water bus on the Grand Canal, right at the door step of our latest digs…the beautiful Palazzo Giovanelli. An historic building, dating from the 1500s, painted with mythological figures by Zelotti, rich in charm and with a history that includes tenants such as the Mozart family and the King of Denmark, Frederick Christian IV and…us!

Yet again Jenny had excelled in her selection of interesting places to lay our weary heads. What’s more, Rossie had discreetly upgraded their suite to the presidential as a treat for her birthday and it is this suite you are viewing here…

As promised, another of our fabulous Chateau, Maison, Villa finds this in one of Italy’s most beautiful cities…

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Umbria…Castello di Petroia

I’ve always wanted to sleep in a Castle…preferably right up there in a turret…how about you? Well I got to do exactly that in a hauntingly beautiful genuine medieval castle in Umbria, Italy.

The Castello di Petroia, dating back to the Middle Ages, around 1163 to be more precise, is right up there on my ‘magical experiences’ list. And that’s why it rates in my continuing  ‘fabulous accommodation finds’ theme.

20120401-214708.jpgMy Rapunzel moment was not without it’s challenges I must add. A flight of steps up to the front door, bathroom down a flight, bedroom up two flights, rooftop vista yet another. Not for the faint hearted yet affording the most magnificent 360 degree view across a tapestry of rich green undulating valleys.

Walls a meter thick, barely space for my big feather four poster bed, moonlight to guide my way I was completely entranced and all thoughts of being haunted by the turret’s ancestry were replaced with the luxury of pleasant dreams…until a Wood Pecker tapped on my window to wake me. I’m glad he did. Watching the sun rise across the misty valleys was absolutely breathtaking. It felt good to be alive!

Oh! If the thought of the turret is just too daunting, there are similar evocatively atmospheric rooms in the main castle, and just a single flight of stairs.

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http://www.petroia.com

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Amalfi Coast…Maison la Minervetta

Style – ‘Quirky Nautical’
Setting – ‘Neapolitan Cliffhanger

So says the luxury boutique hotel bible ‘Mr & Mrs Smith’. We are talking about Maison la Minervetta, a little haven requiring the sacrifice of one’s  first born to afford but luxury well deserved, after all, how often do we just ‘pop over’ to Sorrento, Italy for the weekend huh?

20120226-133634.jpgContinuing on my ‘fabulous finds’ accommodation from our recent travels theme…la Minervetta deserves it’s ranking in the luxury bible…and in my blog!

Clinging precariously to the side of a cliff overlooking a shimmering infinity Bay of Naples dotted with boats ferrying people to the Isle of Capri and Naples, the quaint narrow streets of Sorrento village below, Mt Vesuvius in the distance, and quite simply the most breathtaking view we’ve ever encountered…if we could just tear our eyes away from la Minervetta’s vibrant interiors…Quirky Nautical? Yes indeed! Eclectic, intriguing, groovy, classy, stylish? Absolutely!

Go on! Treat yourselves, starting with a taster below, a peek at their website, then a flight booking ok?

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Maison la Minervetta…Sorrento…Amalfi Coast…Italy http://www.laminervetta.com

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Loire Valley…Le Moulin des Charmes

A man with a sparkle in his eye and a wicked laugh greets us waving an enormous British flag…it’s his modus operandi for directing us to the elusive entrance of our first B&B and we love it! Damn but we needed a good laugh after experiencing our first day on the wrong side of the road and this vision is just the ticket! Brits v Froggie say what?

Turns out our man Noel is British, married to the lovely and very French Marina and both perfect hosts for those grappling with the language on their first day in France as was ours. It’s our first fabulous find, situated in Molineuf, midway between Blois and Ambrose in the Loire Valley where our hosts have been lovingly making over our B&B ‘Le Moulin des Charmes’ and what 20120206-220954.jpgan accomplishment! A converted manor and mill house surrounded by a pretty stream, necessary for the mill house’s original life, and the perfect backdrop for swans, geese and two very much loved Labradors.

Quaint, quirky, comfy, this little B&B is also the perfect launching pad for exploring the many Chateaus in the region but not before you get to acquaint with Noel and Marina and revel in a little stimulating conversation and a fascinating life history over an icy G&T or two by the stream…the perfect way to unwind, immerse oneself in the local culture and become acquainted with the region…sigh!

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And they do a fantastic breakfast too!!Find this B&B at http://www.moulindeloire.com

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Aix en Provence…La Maison de Carlotta

Aix en Provence, slap dab in the Provence-Méditerranée region, plays host to an excessive proportion of incredibly attractive, insouciant young people thanks to it’s Universities and thus requires a discreet vantage point for people gazing. Our aim is to do exactly that, preferably with a nice robust red (damn the wine is cheap in this country!) in hand, but not before hitting the markets and giving in to salad stuffed Baguettes, little baskets of the juiciest lush strawberries and a very big squishy Mille Fuille treat for Roscoe.

20120131-191243.jpgBut I digress! Continuing on my ‘fabulous finds – Apartements, Maisons, Villas etc’ theme, let me tell you about the delightful Maison de Carlotta situated just a skip and jump from the thriving heart of Aix en Provence.

On the narrow rue Frédéric Mistral requiring single file walking and necessity to store the car several blocks away, we find a door in a wall, buzz and are warmly welcomed by our host, the lovely Arlene then led up a serious amount of stairs to her Salon where she provides a delightfully French laced English orientation.

A coffee table piled high with art books, magnificent white baby grand piano, plump furnishings, gauzy curtains wafting in the gentle breeze, soothing concerto playing, a jug of fresh squeezed juice, crystal glasses…this is French Provincial decorating at its best! Massive sigh!20120131-191218.jpg

Tearing ourselves away and up yet another two levels to our Maison we see Arlene’s delicate touches everywhere…a simple lace throw posing as a curtain shroud, fat tassels adorning cupboards, linen swags shielding the enormous skylight…I can hardly wait to pull them back to view the stars at nightfall. This time collective sighs! Now…where’s that robust red and a lovely little street bar with excellent vantage? The beautiful people are waiting to bask in our admiration.

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La Maison de Carlotta 9, rue Frédéric Mistral 13100 AIX-EN-PROVENCE France http://www.lamaisondecarlotta.com

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Bordeaux…the Chateau de Mirambeau

Continuing on the theme of fabulous Chateau, Apartement, Maison, Villa finds…this is one splendid Chateau!

Situated between Bordeaux and Cognac and set amid a lush, beautifully manicured park sits the Chateau de Miriambeau, a Renaissance Castle dating back to the late Romanesque period, formerly an aristocratic residence, since transformed into a luxury hotel. It’s Rossy’s choice on our 2011 journey and rather a grand one indeed!

Upon arrival we are ushered into the Salon to sip welcomed icy drinks, nibble Petits Fours and address paperwork while admiring the rich tapestries and silk brocades; fitting backdrops for the statuettes, candelabra and busts jostling for attention beneath a magnificent crystal chandelier. Passports authenticated and it’s off to our Chambres.

20120130-203246.jpgOur feigned nonchalance quickly turns to discreet awe as we stroke the furnishings, marvel at the tailor made wallpaper emulating sheer lace drapes, examine pristine white bathrooms and exhaust our cameras capturing the exquisite details before finally settling in to our respective abodes…mine has a red theme, my friends a rich buttery yellow…to appreciate small trays bearing more sweet treats, red roses and a personal welcome letter from our host.

Dinner demands dressing up and descending to the terrace to sip champagne and admire the gardens before indulging in a degustation menu of impressive proportions (can’t help feeling the  Chef worshipped at the alter of the famous El Bulli) in the elegantly appointed dining suite…after which we wander back up the sweeping staircase while rubbing our sated tums to our respective Chambers whispering ‘One could become quite used to this couldn’t one darling?’ Oh yes indeed!

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The Chateau de Mirambeau is one of the Relais & Chateaux owned by Baglioni Hotels

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Fabulous Finds…a haven in Paris

Following my introductory blog on fabulous accommodation finds, seems only right to start with the most beautiful city of all…the city of lights…Paris. My love affair with this magnificant city demands regular returns, most recently with friends Ross and Jenny, the latter responsible for finding us this little accommodation gem.

Situated in St-Germaine-des-Pres, this ‘Apartement’ is on Boulevard St Germaine and right in the heart of the action, the region positively pumping with gorgeous little cafes, restaurants, boulangeries, patisseries and fromageries each nestled between antique markets, funky fashion boutiques and organic food markets and within easy walking distance to central Paris, Notre Dame, Musee d’Orsay and Delacroix, the lush Jardins du Luxembourg to name just a few of the many treasures around the 6th and surrounding arrondissements.

Oh! And those markets! Picture yourself feasting on a crisp baguette, creamy cheese washed down with a crisp white, or nibbling tenderly steamed plump white asparagus spears, slurping juicy tomatoes or supping freshly shucked oysters? Well you can, ‘cos that’s what apartment life versus hotels affords.

We are met by our English speaking Greeter bearing an enormous bunch of Peonies and bottle of wine and fell in love with the place as she introduced us to it’s beautifully appointed luxury before discreetly departing to leave us to oh and ah at a fully stocked pantry, piles of fluffy white towels and oh so soft beds while singing along to our in house Bose docked iPod. Delicieux! A note of caution… 70 plus stairs, no lifts! Great exercise I say!

St Germaine Luxe:

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To find this and similar apartments in the slightly more luxurious budget category go to: Haven in Paris

And if your as in love with this city as much as I am you will relish Carla Coulson’s work: Carla Loves Photography follow her blog, Pinterest and all scial media forums for a regular dose of Paris inspiration. Enjoy!

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Fabulous Finds – Chateaus…Apartements…Maisons…Villas…,

New Year Resolutions…love ’em! Mine always involve another opportunity to explore some part of the world as budget allows. Do you have travel in your sights too?

As we blogged our 2011 travels around France and Italy (archives May-June) so many of you commented on the quality of our fabulous accommodation and those of you planning a similar journey have since been asking for details.

Thanks to our trip coordinator extraordinaire and travelling companion…the beautiful Jenny (Fifi), our journey became so much more than just sightseeing…and eating…and drinking. Carefully researched, selected and booked in advance, Jenny ensured we placed weary heads on feathered pillows in digs that were beautifully appointed, close to the action, just a little bit special, often quite unique yet still within mid range budget. I’m still telling her she should make a career out of this!

With your queries in mind and drawing from our archived details, January’s blogging will be devoted to sharing best of the best.

Looking forward to hearing your comments (click on comments below post), please share your own faves too, if you agree with mine feel free to FB Like/Share.

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And drawing our journey to a close…

As we wing our way home we reflect on 5,500k worth of France, Italy, Switzerland and a touch of Britain, 17 beautifully appointed, quaint lodgings, countless incredible vistas…ah! Has indeed been a huge six weeks…

Fun and laughter, giggles and snorts, headaches and sore feet, aching backs and tears. So many happy tears – over candles lit for passed ones, breathtaking sights, historical tragedies, frustration with hotel communication breakdowns…and those special tears, you know the ones you have from laughing too hard?…just before wetting your pants?…

20110606-092800.jpgQuirky situations – a shower recess so small that dropping soap meant poking ones butt out the door to retrieve, another resembling a space capsule that washed places you hadn’t thought shower nozzles were designed for, a loo in a cupboard, another under the sink, opera singing dogs, steps so steep ascent demanding all fours, a wonderful host waving an enormous British flag to herald the entrance, a delicate lace doily serving as a curtain.

20110606-092855.jpgTouching memories such as the dear little French man who happily assisted with automatic petrol pumps and an unexpected health emergency, private tour guides who went way beyond expectation, wait staff with wry senses of humour, Dicky stepping up with the most beautiful gestures…just when he was due a fork stab in the eye.

Breathtaking moments – the immediacy of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, the Eiffel Tower suddenly bursting into sparkles, sleeping in a Medieval tower, viewing a magnificent panorama from a roof top attic, a woodpecker tapping on our windows, the sheer brilliance of Pompeii’s origins.

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Scary moments – streets so narrow, folding the car mirrors in a must; a maniac Italian reversing at 40k, swerving to avoid those behind simply to stop and chat with a parked friend, oblivious to building traffic mayhem.

So many memorable imprints fueling inspiration and desire to plan the next journey…

Thank you for coming along with us, for your comments and for your encouragement…we hope you’ve enjoyed the journey!

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Fifi (Jenny), Pixi (Jane), Dicky (Ross)

A fond farewell from Cast and Crew:

• Richard (Dicky) Seville Lyons the III – Intrepid, fearless driver
• Fifi de Murgatroid Lyons – Lodgings extraordinaire
• Giovanni (Ducky) de la Rhodes – Tour guide champion
• Donnutella (Bella) de la Rhodes – Fresh Produce specialist
and
• Penelope (Pixie) Bogsworth Winterbottom – Blog Queen
Honorable mention to:
• Rupert Smythe Farquharson and Hortense Higginbottom Farquharson – my gracious and graceful hosts in Cambridge.

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Bella and Ducky

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Fifi and Bella

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Dicky and Fifi

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Pixi, Fifi, Bella

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Sizzling in Singapore…

Singapore…clean, serene, green…and steaming. But that’s exactly what we expect as we settle into air-conditioned luxury at the Ritz Carlton, a Dicky choice due to the privileges the private lounge affords…all day grazing in sublime surroundings.

The spectacular vista includes the amazing sculpture that is the Marina Bay Sands,20110604-083438.jpg Pixies choice but lacking that private lounge. The Lotus, Casino, the armadillo like esplanade theatre, Helix Bridge, the Merlion, the Singapore Flyer taller than London’s eye, and a harbor full of massive containers waiting to purge.

Having spent the past six weeks in Europe, we seek familiarity with the old by heading straight for the iconic Raffles Hotel where we sidle up to the iconic bar and sip the iconic Singapore Sling…well actually we don’t for the drink is somewhat overrated, instead settling for a most magnificent Bloody Mary …or perhaps it’s again the atmosphere?20110604-083447.jpg

A swim, Pina Coladas, Champagne and tiny delectable morsels of all things Asian followed by a deep luxurious bubble bath. The lights of the harbor below twinkle through the huge hexagonal window beside my bath. The perfect transition to a deep, slightly jet lagged sleep in my big snuggly bed. Good night.

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Saying farewell to the city of lights…

Having spent the day marveling at Rodin’s ‘The Thinker’, being inspired by the impressionists at the Musee de Orsay, giggling at the strange red bubble exhibit in the Petite Palais, chatting with Pixi’s Right Management French counterparts and nibbling crepes citron sucre from a street vendor on the steps of the Trocadero. Yes, time to acknowledge another visit simply must be planned.

20110604-021424.jpgSadly, Dicky says Paris doesn’t compare to Rome and London and of course he’s right in a sense…each city proudly displays it’s own unique charms, specific and historical originations and cultural variations…and therefore can’t possibly be compared to another. Fifi suspects Dicky has fallen under the city’s spell however, as he gifted her with one of the much coveted Hermes bangles at the top of the Eiffel Tower…collective sigh…

20110604-021805.jpgWe’ve left just enough leather on the soles of our shoes to take an evening cruise down the Seine to enjoy the city’s illumination as a rich crimson gold sunset falls. And beautiful it is…but it’s the flirtation of the Eiffel tower’s hourly twinkling that brings a tear to our eyes on this our last evening in this charming city.

A fitting end to a wonderful stay. Bonne nuit….

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Finding Dior, Hermes…and Monsieur Lapin…

Meet Bruna for a quick cab ride to Avenue Montaigne…Chanel to choose our ‘it’ bags, Dior to select outfits for this evening, Hermes to accessorize and luncheon at ‘Avenue’ where we sip Perrier and nibble on our lettuce whilst jostling with celebrities dodging paparazzi… all in a days work.

20110601-120802.jpgWell not quite… cab ride back to the left bank to resume our shop trawl in St Germaine followed by a glass of bubbles at home whilst we gloat over our beautiful imaginary outfits and accessories…then debate the arduous task of where to dine this eve. The volume of restaurants in our arrondissement, the Latin Quarter, is overwhelming. Bruna to the rescue.- Monsieur Lapin!

20110601-120810.jpgFifi’s been yearning for Lapin (rabbit) and so it shall be…on B and R’s recommendation the quaint restaurant Monsieur Lapin doesn’t disappoint…Crispy Rabbit Pie, a perfectly risen Soufflé a robust Sauvignon Blanc from the south of France all suitably satisfy Fifi’s needs. A fun girly day, a lovely dinner, celebrating days also spent learning about key pieces in the Louvre, exploring the Jardins Luxembourg, Parthenon and Basilica du Sacra Coeur...our work here is almost done!

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Decorating our new home in Versailles…

Ah! The majesty of the Chateau de Versailles. The original built by Louis XIII, enlarged by Louis XIV and continuing to be embellished through the reigns of Louis XV and Louis XVI, vacated the day after the French revolution and so on…our heads are spinning from the action of those days, the sheer opulence and the pomp and ceremony; our African Frenchman shares fascinating facts in his best french accented broken english…rather a novel way to learn the details of Louis, Marie Antoinette, Napoleon, Josie et al. The hall of mirrors quite spectacular and the gardens stunning in their elegance.20110530-124410.jpg

Finish this our third day with a lovely evening in the company of Fifi and Dickie’s friends Bruna and Rob, dining off the Champs Élysées then strolling it’s length to photograph each other in front of the Arc de Triumph…as you do.20110530-124459.jpg

Bruna is adorned in fabulous trinkets thanks to her latest purchasing expedition for ‘Harlequin Market’ her jewelry store in Paddington, Sydney. She’s sporting the latest Hermes bangle…deeply coveted by Pixie…and plans to take we girls to’the’ street to be seen in…we feel our bank accounts contract at the mere thought! Rob will keep the poor hapless Dicky entertained for we have come to a marvelous conclusion…our beloved Paris really is the domaine of us girly girls…I attempt to appease with photos of the latest concept cars.

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Loving the big red bus…

Settled in, board the big red bus and take in an overview of Paris’s 20 Arrondissements and icons. Bearings for Dicky, a refresher for Fifi and Pixi, and foundations for the week’s plans.

Feeling right at home in our light and airy little Pension on the Saint Germaine Boulevard surrounded by a myriad of little cafes, restaurants, book stores and art galleries typical of the Latin Qua20110529-080733.jpgrter, action central, meeting place to bring in the weekend…close to the Seine, a hop from Notre Dame, stones throw from the Louvre and a skip to the Musee de Orsay.

Dicky still hasn’t forgiven for having to lug luggage up 67 narrow spiral stairs, his back moaning and not a golf club …the perfect Dicky ‘man cave’…in sight. Exacerbated after being dragged to our ‘girl cave’ wonderland…the Galleries La Fayette

20110529-080809.jpgExquisite lingerie and Dyptique candles…check; long, long walk home through the streets of Chanel, Dior, Cartier, Hermes…check; a linger on the Pont Neuf to absorb the Parisian culture…check, Centre Georges Pompidou  to view the best modern art exhibition…check, Sephora, the absolute in cosmetics and fragrance…check; ‘goldfish’ photographic moments at the foot of the Eiffel Tower and all rounded off with a juicy steak washed down with a petite little vin Rouge and bed!

So much to see and do…so little time…and time is running out!

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Settling into left bank Paris…

Feels like we’ve ‘come home’… is this due to settling into one lovely apartment and spreading ourselves out for seven whole days? Do we put it down to familiarity for this is the third visit for Fifi, forth for Pixi? Or is it simply because this most beautiful of cities – the city of lights – is again casting her spell?

It’s been a long journey this past five weeks…5,200k, three countries, three different20110526-071507.jpg languages, so much to see, yet we’ve seen so much…saying goodbye to our beloved Poppy car a poignant experience, revisiting our Blog affording us opportunity to differentiate between primacy and recency.

Philosophsing aside, practicalities call…it’s time to regroup… four weeks worth of washing, admire the big bunch of Peonies our kind host has provided, sip the delectable Burgundy she has left, stroke the crisp French linen on our king size beds, a little Angus and Julia Stone on the IPod dock, feet up, plan the coming days. Saint-Germain-des-Pres. Conveniently located on the left bank, bustling, lively and chic. Paris requires a week all to her self for exploration…plus a fine constitution for managing the 65 stairs up to our apartment!!

Reliving initial wonderment through Dickie’s eyes for this is his first time in Paris? Moving beyond the obvious and into the culture and heartbeat of the city? Perhaps a little of both…

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Succumbing to all things Swiss…

Nine in the eve…admiring Lake Lucerne as the last of the yachts make their way home and the many swans retire for the eve; marveling at the snow tipped Swiss Alps in the distance fading to dusky pink for it is almost sunset, sipping a red and thinking…what a fabulous contrast! Switzerland v Italy – Italy v Switzerland.
20110525-055422.jpgFriendly people who chuckle at our attempts to grasp this new language and quickly adjust to fluent English to make us comfortable, the city clean, so clean, the traffic calm…and then there’s the Reuss river…crystal clear, icy blue in hue thanks to the water flowing directly from alps to lake.

A stroll into the old quarter reveals stately buildings adorned with intricate artwork not dissimilar to20110525-055244.jpg those in Prague and Vienna yet displaying a uniqueness all their own..quite special actually.

Swiss cow bells, Swiss army knives, Swiss cuckoo clocks and Swiss chocolate abound…as do Swiss watches. Dicky’s in raptures and bags himself a mighty fine time piece, Fifi trawls for cooler clothing while Pixi spends the afternoon wandering and snapping this new architectural style in the old quarter, feeding the swans and yearning to dip tired toes in the cool clear waters.

Hankering for a Swiss fondue tonight but settle for room20110525-055254.jpgservice sandwich and French X Factor on the Bang and Olufsen telly, snuggled under the perfectly fluffy Swiss doonah, nestled between perfectly feathered Swiss pillows. Fifi’s legs need recuperating from all that walking and as this country appears to be the most expensive in Europe, may have had to do Swiss dishes for a week to pay for that chunk of melted Swiss cheese. Instead think of waistlines. Oh wait…waistlines??

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Saying goodbye to Italy…

Twelve days can’t really do justice to the wealth of experiences Italy has to offer…but we’ve had a blast attempting to. Pisa, Florence, the Tuscan region; Rome, Pompeii, Sorrento and Positano, the Umbrian region, Venice, Lake Como…and just when we’ve grasped the basics of the language…enough to order our drinks, a rough smattering of platitudes, apologies and a healthy dose of abusive road language…over the border again tomorrow, passports at the ready.

20110524-075230.jpgDicky has become the Gordon Ramsay of the Italian highway; Ducky never, ever wants to drive cliff side again…he holds up the traffic doing 20 km around those cliffs you see, and he’s not fond of the impatient drivers tooting, flashing their lights and signaling abuse behind him. Bella, Fifi and Pixi have each perfected the semi silent scream, discreet white knuckling and grabbing just the right amount of change from the car kitty within seconds for the endless tolls. Driving Italian roads is definitely not for the faint of heart.

There have been defeats too. Crossing the restaurant language barrier sufficiently to ensure20110524-075508.jpgfirst courses arrive before second and not all at once; never to change your mind for the original dish will always turn up…or nothing at all; never to expect butter…or plates, salt or ground pepper…but a great deal of bread (a symbol of welcome) and always a very, very large bottle of olive oil, along with ‘gas’ or ‘non gas’ water. Ordering a liqueur coffee is definately worth it though… just to watch the look of incredulity cross their faces.

Ducky and Bella leave us now as we cross to Switzerland then on to Paris and they to Milano, AbuDhabi and home. Dicky is remorseful…his drinking buddy and partner in crime is leaving and he’s now solo with Pixi and Fifi and their endless verbal diarrhoea…

Oh! And as for that Mediterranean diet? It’s a myth…

Private boat picnic – Portofino 20110524-075317.jpg

‘Yes of course you may share our desserts rather than select your own dearest’ – Sorrento20110524-081834.jpg

Fifi and Dicky at the Trevi Fountain – Rome
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Fifi and Donutella – Florence20110524-075811.jpg

The gang on the Spanish Steps – Rome
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Cruising the harbor – Portofino20110524-075929.jpg

Papparazzi poses – Monterosso – Cinque Terra20110524-075230.jpg

Man of few words is Dicky –  Bellagio – Lake Como 20110524-075959.jpg
20110524-080044.jpgFarewell wayward travelers – enjoy the next leg of your journey – Lake Como

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Officially dying and going to heaven…

Having consumed half our body weight in the creamiest Risotto, lamb racks and fish followed by the smoothest Brûlée, a rich berry mousse and all washed down with a lovely white or two from the local region…thanks to the administrations of Fabrizio our waiter in a delightful little restaurant overlooking Lake Como…it’s declared official. We’ve died and gone to heaven!

20110523-062414.jpgStarted the day gazing at the sun glistening on the lake over fresh juice, eggs and pastries before boarding the quite delectable Marco’s boat…Fifi and Pixie think he may be Ducky’s gift to Bella for it’s her birthday tomorrow. Our gorgeous captain who will cruise us up to Como, down to Bellagio then over to Crotto dei Platani our lakeside restaurant where, surrounded by 1,200 meter high mountains, a spectacular view of the snow tipped Italian alps in the distance and the Swis20110523-063940.jpgs alps behind us, we will celebrate…Happy birthday Bella!

20110523-063809.jpgWe get the gos on celebs. George isn’t home. A ‘serious’ chap, Matt Damon a ‘funny’, Julia Roberts ‘crazy’, Jennifer Anniston and Angelina Jolie both in town at the same time? ‘awkward’, Brad’s kids? ‘too much’…

Also viewed Versace’s residence, the Opus Dei territory (re Da Vinci code) and the church where Mussolini was shot. As well, the Cardinal’s home where Padma and Anakin (Star Wars Episode II) marry, Bond annihilates his nemesis (Casino Royale) and w

20110523-063548.jpghere so many film segments have been shot we immerse in a major deja vu moment.

Richard Branson also has local digs, accessible only via water, beautifully manicured and we thought owning Necker Island and a spot of Noosa was pretty cool!

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Spend the remains of the day digesting in the sun by the pool, napping, having massages and swearing we can’t possibly eat dinner tonight for we are way too full…when suddenly Ducky cries out…hey! it’s already 5pm…we need to start planning dinner! Dicky busts his chair in his rush to assume the vertical position…

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We also toast Kent. He died this day – 23rd May, 2007. Enjoying the big seas dear friend.

 

 

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Stalking George in Lake Como…

Sitting by a pool on the shores of Lake Como, sipping bubbles…as you do…absorbing the steep majestic mountains edging the long yet narrow deep green waters resplendent with small Yachts, water-skiers and a cautious duck or two and enjoying post rain shower fresh mountain air. The view is quite surreal and we’re all pinching ourselves!20110523-084335.jpg

Another splendid contrast. So far we’ve traversed the water highways and numerous little Venizian bridges, resided in medieval castles and climbed perilously steep cliff hugging steps on the Amalfi Coast; we’ve sailed across the Mediterranean, tip-toed across Pompeii’s ancient remains, leant against the ridiculously leaning Tower of Pisa, thrown coins in the Trevi Fountain and shuddered in deep, dark Catacombs.

We’ve gasped at rolling lush green pastures, mountains and valleys, stared incredulously at tiny homes attached to cliff sides, giggled at our concerted efforts and appalling command on the language, lit small candles in cathedrals in honour of our loved ones. We’ve also relived each day through choosing photos for this blog, effectively imprinting such experiences for future ruminating.

20110523-084343.jpgNow to explore this beautiful part of Italy, our last brush with the craziness of Italian drivers, the passion of the people, the food…oh the food!

As for stalking George Clooney? Admit we girls wouldn’t be adverse to a little innocent flirtation and after the near miss with Pierce Brosnan, celebrity radars are on full alert!

A stroll down to dine by the water side and watch twilight cast it’s spell as the water turns to indigo, enhancing the twinkling lights on the far shore that compete with the millions of fairy lights dripping from the branches above…inciting us to linger just a little longer…just enough time to imprint this new delightful memory…

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And getting lost in Venice…

Ducky’s desire to absorb the city’s history requires a cruise through the busy canals in a sexily sleek timber number. Suave, sophisticated, our snappy guide Johnno provides a running dialog extolling the virtues of the most impressive buildings, the wonders of Baroque architecture punctuated with enticing anecdotes on the city’s origins and initial business dealings, supported by a raft of interesting stats…

Now did you know that over 400 Gondolas jostle for supremacy, women just this year were granted approval to be Gondoliers, the buildings are founded on wood, soil and sand, there are 117 islands, 499 bridges…and… by days end we’ve personally, unintentionally traversed every single one of ’em!20110522-084432.jpg

Following the cruise we guess our way through the twists and turns of canals and busy alley ways to view the Santa Maria Della Salute cathedral only to find it doesn’t open for several hours…a perfectly good reason to substitute with a shop trawl while Pixie wanders the Peggy Guggenheim art gallery.

Dawdling our own way through markets filled with masks, Murano trinkets, striped gondolier shirts and more, Pix finds a stall selling cups of cool fresh berries and pineapple chunks topped with crisp Coconut chunks on ice, selects then sits awhile on the Pont de Rialto to watch the Venetian world go by…well the tourists actually…

And that’s when the fun started! Following in the footsteps of a myriad of fellow tourists we eventually make it home footsore and weary clutching maps ragged through extensive and anguished overuse and reward ourselves with the customary G&T. A robust pasta nosh followed by one last wistful view of the soft twilight, sleek, shiny black Gondolas and the calming aqua water…we realise we have indeed fallen in love for she is a most spectacularly intriguing city.

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Cruising Venezian canals…

The sun sparkles brilliantly on the bay as our boat pilot deftly navigates the water streets through traffic moving people, food, crates of stuff, cars, cement mixers and such, on to the Murano factory where we observe glass blowers in action before succumbing to hard sell…Ducky gives in, his booty to be made to order and shipped.

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20110521-083627.jpg20110521-083729.jpgFinally escape back to our cruiser and on to a waterside restaurant overlooking the Gondolas at the San Marco Vallaresso and the Campo Abbazia…a rather impressive Church just like the rather overpriced menu…but absolutely worth every Euro.

The lighting is soft, the water clean and a beautiful shade of aqua, the buildings proudly displaying worn and faded yet regal and quite majestic facades in soft patinas made even more intriguing by the moss growing on their skirting…the bridges don’t disappoint either…a simply stunning photographic moment captured on the Pont Rialto.

A wander through Chanel, Hermes, Sergio Rossi, Pucci, Balenciaga lined streets and home,20110521-083711.jpg later to take an evening ride through the canals. It’s rather cramped for five in our Gondola, a deft balancing act managed well by our punter Stefano who uses elbows and feet to buffer our passage through the narrow canals, at the same time serenading us with some zesty ‘O Sole Mia’ Italian opera that would do Pavarotti proud.

Its a refreshing change as we’ve been singing ‘When the Moon Hits Your Eye Like a Big Pizza Pie’ over and over to the point where Ducky feels obliged to buy Dean Martin’s best so that we can learn the next lines. Almost down pat however we’ll need to dust off our best Edith Piaf again soon…or maybe Air or Phoenix for Paris is drawing ever closer. Sigh!

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Romancing in Venice…

Ahhh Venice. Founded on water, slowly sinking, a myriad of bridges, Gondolas, narrow watery canals and a whole lot of robust hustle.

Finding our way from the exterior carports dragging luggage onto crowded water buses then off at the appropriate stop is a feat worthy of G&T fortification. Equivalent20110521-083341.jpg to a gin martini with ‘drive by’ tonic we are giggling within minutes in the majestic Hotel Palazzo Giovanni. In celebration of our Fifi’s milestone birthday, Ducky surprises her with a pre planned upgrade to an exclusive suite where Murano Chandeliers delight and luxury abounds. A further Gin Martini over restaurant choices before Ducky finally exercises authority and insists on a Chinese nosh. The guru of this gastronomic pleasure and one must bow to the professional.

The picture doesn’t fit for obvious reasons but the restaurant surprises with the best we’ve
ever tasted…the crispy beef a particular pleasure (Bellsies you would have been in raptures) and all washed down with a lovely little Pinot Grigio.

20110521-083321.jpgOn every corner couples earnestly argue over maps in an effort to find their way home through narrow winding alleys and over the many bridges.

We readily find ours digs thanks to the girls’ visual recollections of Murano glassware, chocolate, nougat, Venetian mask and Italian leather stores…much to the chagrin of Dicky and Ducky for navigating is ‘man work’. So much to see, taste, sensate, the senses in overload we retire to rest, tomorrow will be a big day requiring fortitude and strong leather soles…oh! Italian shoes! Want. Need. Have to have!

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Dreaming of Ghosts in the tower…

Whoa! A genuine medieval castle! While Dicky and Fifi, who’ve left their Passports in the safe at our last digs, La Minervetta, return to collect, (thankfully informed just an hour out), Ducky, Bella and Pixie continue on, eventually finding themselves bumping down a narrow gravel road. Ducky swears profusely at the Garman in fine Italian only to find the instrument yet again delivers us to our exact destination…the Castle di Petroia .

Pixie’s sleeping qu20110520-095414.jpgarters reside in the tower! One suite, an urgent need to grow Rapunzel hair should the need for a quick escape arise, and a rising trepidation for the tower is reported to be haunted! Pix occupies her reticence by climbing the narrow, winding stairs to the very top of the turret where the view is absolutely breathtaking. Undulating hills of multiple hues ranging from pastel golds to deep lush greens striated with pencil pines between which narrow roads meander. Picture postcard perfect.

Our lovely host Virginia introduces us to the Castle’s ancestry before we settle in the soft cadence of twilight amidst interesting statues, clusters of lavender and the company of a chubby marmalade cat with a complacent ‘fuck off’ attitude to sup wine, nibble Chef’s treats and marvel at the views, for we are perched on the peak of a hill overlooking a spectacular Umbrian vista. An excellent selection yet again Fifi!

20110520-095813.jpgDicky and Fifi finally arrive just in time to indulge in a sumptuous candle lit dinner of tender lamb supplemented with an indulgent Tiramisu and lively banter from Massimo our Chef, later to retire to our respective Castle elements. Pixi finds her turret a four level butt firming engineering feat, sans ghost; all of us sleeping peacefully after a long day’s travel. Must admit, there’s nothing like being interrupted from one’s slumber by a Cuckoo gently tapping on our respective windows.

Breakfast consisting of freshly baked cake..yup!’ cake!! Then on the road to Venice…

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Posturing in Positano…

Dicky, Fifi, Ducky and Bella catch the ferry to the Isle of Capri while Pixi makes up for lost time in the hotel she plans to one day perform her nuptials, so enthralled is she. Snuggling into a luxuriously deep, leather clad lounge, Pixi struggles to find focus –  a magnificent view, 100s of intriguing coffee table books, a blog post demanding script…it’s all too much. Windy, overcast and chilly outside she settles into her perfect version of the ‘happy place’.

Later a wander through the quaint little Sorento streets with a scoop of cherry ice-cream that could quite simply be the most delightfully creamy ice-cream ever experien20110518-104113.jpgced…or maybe that’s the atmosphere?

The Capri party return and we drive down the Amalfi Coast cliff side to Positano then walk down, down, down to the shore, perusing the little stores along the way and finding special little gifts for loved ones. We settle for Pizza back home, simply because we want to marvel at and absorb this exquisite hotel while we can…

And then we learn that Pierce Brosnan was in the same restaurant we went to the night before…Donna feels woozy…he’s her idol…

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La Minervetta is a spectacular hotel…very modern, eclectic, kitch but in an elegant way…and featured in the top hotels of the world in the Mediterranean region with a price tag to match. Vesuvius must keep her hat on and earthquakes stay in Spain while we’re here for this cliff side dwelling business leaves little shaking margin. But how absolutely breathtaking is the view! Pixi’s goldfish moments result in over 70 photos of the exact same breathtaking view.  La Minervetta photo gallery now open:

La Minervetta
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Marveling at Pompeii, Sorrento…and La Minervetta…

Photos and documentaries abound, but it’s our lovely guide Luchia’s wealth of information that brings Pompeii to life. Hard to believe it was decimated in AD79 and not rediscovered until 1594, even more incredible, the ingenuity that went into the building of and livelihood within the city, so many centuries ago. The Romans, with a little borrowing from the Greeks, were indeed ingenious architects and designers as well as great philosophers, artists and business men.20110518-101138.jpg

After marveling at the remains and feeling sad for the agony the residents endured when Vesuvius erupted (still one of the most active volcanos having exploded 37 times since) we make our way along the Amalfi coast to our Sorrento  accommodation.

20110518-101157.jpgJust one problem…La Minervetta has the dates wrong. Much drama later and despite efforts to placate, we find they can only accommodate two of our three parties tonight for, in their books, we aren’t due to arrive until tomorrow.

Pixie takes one for the team and goes to a dodgy hotel up the road, sulks awhile then, determined not to let this affect her holiday, joins the team, indulges in a group hug and a few large swigs of Moet then joins her buddies in the 300 step descent down the cliffside to a restaurant on the shoreline where more Champers provides a gentle dulling of the senses. Suddenly the drama doesn’t seem quite so bad after all…until we realize what that return journey involves…

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When in Rome…

Roman traffic is absolute maniacal mayhem! Double parking a given, smart cars parked in the most impressive places, two to a single space, tail in. Zero road lines, everyone jostling for supremacy in an effort to beat each other across the multiple four lane intersections. Exercising a great deal of bravado we hit the road out in peak hour as Dicky exercises the ‘when in Rome’ and for our efforts learn the most impressive ‘sign language’.

Ruins RomeSpectacularly historic city, recycled and built on top of itself over and over thus jam packed with cars simply because attempts to build underground carparks and train lines results in even more ancient archaeological finds…easier to cover it over and try again elsewhere.

20110515-043819.jpgA good portion of the women are over bronzed, fond of lipliner, sport bleached hair, excess bling and don’t appear to age well. The guys? Not too bad. Fifi loves the city, Dicky says it’s ok but full of ‘wogs’…bless! Ducky and Donna enjoy but we suspect the former is still smarting from the vegetarian restaurant…

As we progress down the coast, quickly realize Rome traffic was quite civilized compared to Naples…a grunge tinted city, at least in the ‘burbs for the GPS loves the back gritty streets. Definitely not the streets for the faint of heart. Next – Pompeii and the Amalfi Coast.

A few group memories:

20110518-100339.jpgLeft to right: Donna, Ross, Jenny, Kim on the Spanish Steps

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Climbing the colossal Colosseum…

Hard to believe the Colosseum, or Ampitheatre Flavius, was opened in20110515-093951.jpg 72AD! And that some 5,000 wild animals were put to death in the 100 day opening celebrations; that 70,000 people could be seated within 20 minutes; that awning segments were hoisted across the roof to provide shade…and that most of the marble facade was pillaged to build St Peter’s Basilica. Yes, we are in awe of the brilliance of Roman construction.

View the Circo M20110515-094011.jpgassimo, originally used for Chariot Races, now the venue for all celebrations including Live Aid.

Freeze our butts off in the Catacombs of Domitilla, an underground Basilica comprising some 17km of galleries and corridors spread over four levels, housing almost150,000 burials. Descending into its bowels, we giggle with thinly veiled fear at the prospect of getting lost in there for days, helpful for losing a few of kilos but ever so cold and a tad scary. The cold would have been most welcome yesterday as we were slogging the kilometers that make up the Vatican in 35 degree heat!

20110515-094042.jpgFinally back to the Piazza Navona which sits over another ancient stadium, to view the magnificent fountains there then make our way to our guide recommended restaurant for lunch. It’s vegetarian…and a smorgasbord…Ducky has a mild panic at the thought of ‘eating at the trough’ and ‘no meat’ throws him into a total tailspin. Never the less, he perseveres and we compensate by agreeing to eat at  ‘guaranteed meat’ Hard Rock Cafe this evening.

We make a feeble attempt to trawl shops but the cobbled roads become too slippery from our first rain. Fifi’s hawker purchased umbrella starts disintegrating and poking people’s eyes and her shoes pose the risk of face planting her in the gutter…time for home…there’s a Hard Rock Cafe beckoning.

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Three coins in a Fountain…

Meet our delectable private tour guide, Massimo…sparkling white teeth, crisp white shirt, Gucci loafers, rather cute… board the big black van, get thrown i20110515-043755.jpgnto chaotic traffic and arrive intact at the foot of the magnificent Vittoriano or National Monumento, dedicated to the fallen soldier, one of the newest buildings in Rome, opened in 1927. View the remains of the Roman Forum, temples, house of the Vestal Virgins and Basilica Aemilia from Palatine Hill then on to the Pantheon followed by the Trevi fountain…

20110515-043925.jpgBeautiful, strangely displaced amongst dense buildings, and crowded with fellow tourists. Shed a tear in fond memory of Pixi’s last visit with Kent and a happier time when we tossed a coin and promised each other we would be back. Instead, posing on the rim we reserve a space between us for our mighty fallen, now with us spiritually, throw our coins in the fountain then join the masses to pose on the famous Spanish steps.20110515-044017.jpg

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Lunch off the Piazza Navona then on to the Vatican. Sistine Chapel, hall of maps and the Basilica …the privilege of a private guide giving us instant access ahead of a crowd that stretches around the block, hot patient punters.

Conclude the day by viewing Rome – past and future – from a hilltop, before throwing ourselves back into the chaos of streets blocked by a protest march, exacerbated by the heightened security around the American Embassy opposite our hotel, a potential target for retaliation after Bin Laden’s demise.

In lieu of seeking one of the many ‘hip’ local eateries, relive the day via our iPad photo downloads, grab a meal in the hotel, retire to massage tired feet, guess our way through Italian dubbed movies and sleep…

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Shopping in beautiful Florence…

Dicky and Ducky take well deserved ‘man time’ on a Golf Course while Fifi, Bella and Pixi take well deserved retail therapy in Florence. As our villa is in country Tuscany, we take a 50 minute train in then jump on the big red get on-off bus to absorb the soft atmospheric palette and gentle majesty of this beautiful city.20110513-104539.jpg

Home of Leonardo da Vinci, Dante, Brunelleschi to name a few, the Statue of David, the Uffiziand the incredibly enormous, multi marble Duomo cathedral dominating the centre…and not to forget the famous Ponte Vecchio over the River Arno, home of little overpriced jewelry shops which of course we can’t resist trawling…followed by the leather markets.

20110513-104450.jpgA €7 cup of tea…tis a tourist trap after all…then on the train home to regroup, share room service and sigh… exhausted and satisfied with the day’s haul of little gifts, cheap handbags and Bella’s lovely piece of bling.

A big day tomorrow…navigating into the very busy Rome for our next adventure.

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Basking under the Tuscan Sun…

A small detour and large collective gasp!! So many photos of the Leaning Tower of Pisa viewed yet but nothing prepares us for the real thing…man has that thing got a lean!

20110513-081629.jpgDucky and Bella have a mini meltdown trying to negotiate the Garmen’s interpretation for it talks the local language. Dicky’s purchased his first dodgy watch, quite chuffed with his bartering, while the girls stare at endless bent statues.

20110513-081715.jpgFurther direction confusion for the street on which our accommodation resides in Tuscany is not recognized by navigation equipment. A quick trip through someone’s back yard and there it is. Ducky & Bella find their way cross country and all in need of a stiff drink stat! A thorough exploration of the Villa and vista…and it is exactly as we imagined Tuscany to be. Beautiful! Sipping our calming G&T, all agree…we could quite happily live here.

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Lunching in Portofino bay…

Look kids! Another tunnel, viaduct, tunnel! Nice to the CinqueTerra, the five lands and the sleepy fishing village of Monterosso after an endless drive through the middle of mountains and over gorges. The journey punctuated with a rewarding stop by in Portofino where Ducky suggests an impromptu boat ride. While cruising around SanFortozio we nibble freshly selected market panne, prosecuto, fromage, crimson cherries strawberries enhanced with white Balsamic. The fromage, a gently oozing Brie and aromatic chunk of Roquefort, sadly missing for Pixi’s clearly left them atop the counter  back in Nice. We mourn the loss of this perfect accompaniment to a lazy picnic with a bottle of Louis Roederer Champers.

20110511-110255.jpgDucky deserves this treat for he’s just survived his initiation into driving on the wrong side of the road, dodging oncoming maniacs at the wheel of flaming red Ferraris and random suicidal cyclists on switchback bends and narrow alleyways. And what an adorable place to do so! Absolutely recommended!

Practice replacing ‘merci’ and ‘au revoir’ with ‘grazia’ and ‘arrivederci’ and concur…pop an ‘O’ on the end of all words and we’ll have this new language conquered.

20110511-110325.jpgNegotiate our way to CinqueTerra, check in and as we explore our rooms, find Pixi’s is equivalent to a monastery… expecting a holographic cross to hover above the bed, and still pondering how to access the loo which is kinda under the sink…and as for the prospect of bending down to pick up the soap in the shower? The doubles have rooms a tad larger and as I visit, find Dickie pouring G&Ts atop his bedside table, which is actually a small fridge. Roaring with laughter, we down said aperitifs and toast our new country. Italy.

A stroll down to dine on a cliff edge, watch the sun set and a bright moon rise over the infinity and beyond’ Mediterranean…ahhh! Bellissimo!

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Delighting in Saint Paul de Vence and Monagien Yachts…

Breakfast in the old quarter followed by a quick stroll through the Nice Antique markets then off to St Paul de Vence guided by Ducky (Kim)* and Bella (Donna)*

20110511-105211.jpgQuaint, medieval, walled, shades of Sarlat evidenced by narrow alleyways, fascinating shops, intriguing art and sculpture, all of us quite entranced. Tapas, Roquford salad, G&T then off to Monaco.

Wow! The most awe inspiring Yachts in the harbour, there in anticipation of the Grand Prix scheduled within the next few weeks. Fifi claims hers, the enormous…make that the gigantic ‘The Moura’, actually owned by a Sheik, Pixi rather fond of the very large Sail Yacht next door and Bella has her eye on the sleek navy number. The boys have moved on from Yachts to chicanes and racing track conditions. Quick tour around the place then the breathtaking coastal route back to Nice in time for a leisurely dinner on the terrace and sleep. Tomorrow the five lands – Cinque Terra.

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20110511-105102.jpg*Newest toffs:

Giovanni (Ducky) de la Rhodes – Kim
Donutella (Bella) de la Rhodes – Donna

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Watching the Corsica-Sardinia Ferry…

Died and gone to heaven! Incredibly clear skies and a crystal azure blue ocean…we are on the Cote d’Azure! Sunning our legs while admiring the Corsica-Sardinia Ferry cut a swath across the Mediterranean, G&T in hand, contemplating our next move, as you do, decisions conclude with a casual stroll along the promenade. The beach consists of grey pebbles rather than soft white sand yet that doesn’t perturb the sun worshippers, one of them a burnt copper hue, aged beyond age recognition, reminds us the movie Weekend at Bernie’s…she’s Bernie!20110510-111257.jpg A napping dog in a pram, plump Russians in their undies along side gorgeous bodies in tiny bikinis.

Sangria on the beach then back to await our additional travel companions, Kim and Donna due in tonight from Vienna. A night in as everyone relives their holiday to date.

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Shopping for the girls…a beer for the boy…

Sunny skies, balmy weather and a leisurely day trawling Aix au Provence Saturday markets…lush bunches of full bloom Peonies for just €5, two dozen long stemmed roses €24, the sweetest strawberries €1! And the boutiques! Soft grey suede platforms, crisp white linen harem pantaloons and €5 floral spring scarves for Pixie, sexy black suede, ever so French sandals and scarves for Fifi… retail therapy and market sated while Dicky trawled his own essentials…beer and chips…and eyed up the stylish young things. This city is home to a renowned international University full of ’em.

20110510-105707.jpgWhen in France, one must reduce one’s bouffant to a chic pixie cut, just €35, cleverly orchestrated through elaborate sign language, gestures and a deftly murdered French pronounciation. A pixie for Pixie! Apt, the name coined by Fifi and Dicky after twice having to wee in forests.

No chubby folk in this neck of the woods….and were just short of blatantly staring at a particularly slender, attractive woman sporting black skinny jeans, a crisp white double cuffed shirt under an exquisitely tailored black cropped jacket all atop sky high kick ass black patent leather Louboutin heels…tres magnifique!

A fond farewell to the adorable Arlene at our Maison and the delightful Aix au Provence. Nice, here we come!

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A day in Provence…

What a gorgeous place is this? Jenny’s bespoke travel agenda continues to enthrall. We’ve squeezed Poppy car through impossibly tight cobbled streets and into the tiniest car park where, rather than drag suitcases to our abode for the next two days, a quick transfer of essentials to overnight bags…same clothes tomorrow – the Parisian uniform of jeans and a T, leather jacket and red lippy fits suits the austerity.20110507-054214.jpg

The Pont du Gard Aqueduct, outside Nimes thrills. Incredible engineering considering the Aqueduct was built in 50AD within 5 short years! Amazing chaps those Romans! A quick ‘drive by’ to admire the walled city in Avignon and on to the quaint Aix en Provence. Our B&B digs are at the top of 59 steps in the delightfully appointed Maison de Carlotta, a mere stones throw from the heart of the atmospheric village. Our hostess the lovely Arlene has made us most welcome, furnished us with a robust agenda and we are determined to satisfy.

20110507-054224.jpgOnce settled, Fifi and I canvassed the local culture then settled into a corner bar to sip €2.50 vin rouge and indulge in a spot of people perving while Dicky napped. The exhaustion of navigating our way through the complexity of foreign signed highways, roads and skinny streets taking their toll.

We concur…the women are incredibly stylish – jeans, platforms, fitted leather jackets, slender and exuding a sense of ‘joie de vivre’…often on the arm of equally elegant males…we favor the more rugged but damn these guys make great eye candy!

Finish the day dining Italian, the best steak, saltimbocca and a rustic salmon pasta…

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Contemplating in Demeure Saint Lewis…

Sitting in a relaxing bubble bath, contemplating the beauty of the french language and playing with the Chaud and Froid taps with my toes while determining whether the bathr20110507-051915.jpgoom decor could be classed French ProvinciaI, I realize there’s extra flesh protruding. Necessitating immediate mental note to pull the reins in? This could be challenging as I’ve just eaten the best meal yet at Auberge des Lices.

Tucked down one of the narrow alley ways that meander through Carcassone’s medieval fortress Auberge des Lices offers temptations including rich tomato mousse in jars accompanied with delicate salted wafers, tenter chicken breasts nestled in rich cognac sauce; the food excellent, service disinterested, the fortress rather ho hum for it’s hard to remove Sarlat’s uniqueness from the race.

20110507-051752.jpgWell deserved too after a long day exploring Chateau Feodal de Beynac, a castle originating in 1453 and where Joan of Arc was filmed. The view from here is absolutely breathtaking. Lost for words, we simply stare in awe. A ‘very’ scenic drive to Carcassone via Domme, as the Garman continues to confuse us and now secure in the quite magnificent Demeure Saint Lewis, our B&B for this evening.

Must say, Dicky has been the most marvelous driver, Fifi the ‘back seat in the front seat’ back up to silly Garmin woman, Poppy, our Peugeot… ‘carriage de magnificent’.

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Look kids! Another Chateau…

So ok…our B&B ‘La Lanterne’ in Sarlat doesn’t quite match up to the Castle we’ve20110507-103914.jpg reluctantly vacated in Mirambeau…but the lovely bottle of vin Rouge that’s fueled our giggly stagger back up through the tiny curved, cobbled and oh so quaint alleyways to our B&B, accompanied by a pretty impressive Quasi Modo knock off as the bells ring in the nearby church…more than makes up for the shortfall.

Started the day with a lovely drive down to Saint-Emilion, home of over 38 world heritage listed wineries, bordering on the Dordogne…all scattered amongst ancient architecture and into Sarlat, magnificent, centuries old fortress.

20110507-104253.jpgA steep and narrow cobbled street leads us to Le Lantern hidden behind a rustic wooden door leading into a quaint ivy shrouded courtyard. After meeting our hosts, their dogs Frodo and Phoebe (Frodo sings opera, has a spot on YouTube), throw the kit into our rooms, throw a robust red down our throats then head down into the village to feast.

Charming and atmospheric, it’s walls shrouded with roses and ivy and each abode jumbled atop another, Sarlat is the home of Fois Gras and you can eat anything as long as it’s canard…

20110507-063712.jpgNext morning we explore Chateau Puymartin, the engineering of its steep stacked stone roof of particular interest. Moving on we explore rock grottos where dwellers have carved homes into the sandstone cliffs.

The Dordogue -Perigourd region is full of Chateaus and Grottos, making for thirsty work and sated with a picnic lunch by the river Montignac.  Panne and Fois Gras, Mumm 2002 vintage Champagne, (so reasonably priced in this neck of the woods) and we’re back in the swing.

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Returning to Sarlat, Pixi and Fifi wander back to the square, immerse ourselves in the  to sip cocktails and bask in the warmth of the late afternoon sun and contemplate restaurants, so many to choose from, so much canard. Would kill for a steak!

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Marveling at les Fontaines Bleues & Talman…

A leisurely continental breakfast and at the recommendation of our host, off to sample fine Cognac at the Chateau de Beaulon.

20110504-072049.jpgWhile my companions were ‘gettin it on’ I wandered the les Fontaines Bleues – beautiful lakes of soft green dappled with the deepest azure blue, almost iridescent and unique to this region, and did my best to capture their depth of brilliance.The springs emerge within a gentle stream, surrounded by light forestry, neighbored by lush grape vines.

While strolling the garden, in desperation am forced to take a tinkle behind a bush…stinging nettle...that’s all I’m gonna say boys and girls; Jenny and Ross in stitches, photographic evidence and I may need to pay a ransom to avoid my ass being broadcast on YouTube.

After sampling varying wines and the Cognac, we sail merrily out and into a lovely drive through rolling green fields to Talmont, a stroll around this pretty little village perched on the edge of a cliff, pizza and crepes citron sucre then down to Saintes where we seek out very much needed Anglaise/French interpretation dictionaries to avoid any further near misses with incorrect turns and goat meat.20110504-072058.jpg

The Chateau is closed for dining tonight and in lieu of a €20 room service bowl of soup (can’t risk another serve of the pink fishy liquid), we head into the village for a cheap n cheerful nosh before retiring to our respective boudoirs to hear another 8 hrs worth of Bin Laden triumph on CNN, the only English speaking TV channel, our brains exhausted from interpreting. Tomorrow…Salat.

 

 

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Luxuriating at the Chateau Mirambeau…

After a fond farewell to our delightful hosts, we head down the highway amusing ourselves by singing Jersey boys out of key, admiring the rolling hillsides and choosing our ‘toff’* names as we enter the Bordeaux region. Our newest accommodation doesn’t disappoint…in fact we are in awe…the Chateau de Mirambeau is actually a neo-Gothic castle!

20110504-065552.jpgAfter the formalities of checking in we are shown our rooms and shortly after find a welcome tray with a bunch of red roses, petit fours and a personally written welcome letter from the owner. Our rooms are pure opulence…too, too over the top to describe…photos will have to do. Luxurious bubble bath in a great big marble bath, glass of wine, then down to the dining room where we indulge in a Degustation menu.

Vacillating between ‘this boiled egg filled with yolk, foam and truffle, toast fingers and truffle shaving is yummy’; and ‘what on earth is this small glass of transparent pink liquid a fish swam through about?’ and 10 courses later we conclude this Chef is either a budding El Bulli or a junior master chef with lofty aspirations…either way, an intriguing menu to be sure!

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Sated we yearn to wallow in our luxury, a good night digesting required in preparation for an exploration of Chateau de Beaulon and a tipple of Cognac tomorrow.

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Richard (Dicky) Seville Lyons the third – Ross
Fifi de Murgatroid Lyons – Jenny
Penelope Bogsworth Winterton – Jane
Perfectly suited to the occasion don’t you think?

 

 

 

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20110504-065954.jpgToday we learn of Osama Bin Laden’s elimination. A time for reflection on the war on Terror. Right now, so happy to be with my buddies exploring this beautiful part of France for who knows what tomorrow will bring..

 

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Wandering the Loire Valley…

Warm brioches, croissants, home made jams, plump french strawberries, eggs with yolks the color of sunrises; we are recharged and ready to explore…starting with a leisurely stroll in the Bois markets…

And what a sensory overload! Stalls bulging with big bunches of white asparagus, plump tomatoes and artichokes next to oysters still in their shells, voluptuous bunches of roses for €6, fluffy peonies, freesias…and a young jazz band belting out blues brothers at the foot of steps leading to a Palace…we love it! Of course, being foreigners in this little piece of the French world certainly adds to our ‘joie de vivre’.

Next an exploration20110503-101931.jpg of Chateau Cheverny, located in Sologne near Blois. Now we are in awe…what a spectacular building, long yet shallow, each room filled with rich tapestries, opulent furnishings and an amazing history as one would expect of a home of this ancestry. This magnificent place has been in the Hurault family for 6 centuries, they live in one wing. Reminds me very much of Franz Josef’s palace in Vienna.

Follow this up with the even bigger Chambord Palace, Jewel of the French Renaissance which embodied first Francois the 1st’s power then Louis XIV. We are fascinated by the roof turrets, their lack of symmetry adding to our intrigue. The estate covers 5440 hectares and preserves it’s flora and fauna, am happy about that.

Finish this beautifully sunny day back at our B&B, the beautiful Moulin des Charmes by sharing a feast of baguette, fromage, jambon and Champagne…followed by warm baths, fluffy robes and our big feather beds. Tomorrow we head further south into the Cognac region.

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Stay on the right!!!…

20110501-081021.jpgOne million royal wedding revelers minus three…that’s us! Eurostar to Paris, Jen and I catch snippets of the wedding on the hire car office TV while Ross prepares the paperwork…we concur…Pippa’s frock is elegantly exquisite, Posh and Becks take the award for ‘uber cool’, Queen Lizzie quite resplendent in butter yellow…we learn later via Twitter that the newly married couple take Will’s Dad’s Aston Martin, resplendent with ‘just married’ balloons, for a spin and collectively conclude that’s a most impressive ‘finger’ to tradition.

Head out of Paris for Versace…rather a traumatic business driving on the wrong side of the road by the way…find our fuel level low, auto fuel machines refusing to acknowledge20110501-081114.jpg our cards or take cash…a wonderful little Frenchman named Thierry coming to our rescue, sympathetic to our plight to the point of gifting us with freshly baked loaves of fabulous bread plus posies of Lilly of the Valley for Jenny and me…possibly resulting from our many broken French platitudes of appreciation translating to the equivalent of ‘marry me’…this beautiful man quickly dispelled the old ‘french are typically arrogant’ myth.

Finally arrive in Molineuf at our ‘have I died and gone to heaven?’ B&B in time for a very civilized glass of bubbles or two in the garden where we remark on the wonders of ‘twilight time’, before a quick freshen up in our cosy accommodation in preparation for an evening with our delightful hosts the wonderfully British Noel, his beautiful French wife Marina and fellow guests Kerry and David. Robust, jocular conversations, several delectable dishes accompanied by our host’s carefully selected wines, we leave sated, relieved to have survived the French highway mayhem and yearning for our plump, cosy beds

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Exhausting London…

While Jane’s in Cambridge, Jenny and Ross board the Big Red Bus and explore the length and breadth of London starting with St Paul’s, Tower of London…all ravens in residence…London Bridge, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, changing of the Guards, Hyde Park and all things iconic to this fine city…stumble upon Carnaby St, peruse Harrods then finish off with a night on West End, LOVED Jersey Boys…they say it’s an absolute must see. Rosso has a sunburnt nog20110501-101321.jpggin, Jenny a big bag of goodies for the Grandies, both satisfied with their conquest, Montague on the Park a quaint, elegant retreat providing a peaceful respite to a couple of very busy days. (more…)

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Punting on the Cam…

Brilliantly clear skies, a warm summer breeze, bluebells and tulips, daisies and cherry blossoms, rich green manicured lawns, willow fronds trailing the water as do our fingers, our young Engineering graduate providing narrative as he gently guides our Punt along the river Cam. What a delightful way to explore this beautiful piece of Cambridge….

Home of Cambridge University…formed in 1209 …31 colleges, 88 nobel prizes, 33 of these secured by Trinity college alumni dedicated to math.

A wave to Queen Lizzie’s helicopter…she’s arriving to help St John’s College celebrate 500 years…dodging the media, Bobbies in bullet proof vests and bicycle riders as we head for Kings College chapel. Later, reflecting on the splendor of the chapel’s interior my late PaHannah comes to mind. Pa, a church organ maestro, would have so enjoyed playing it’s magnificent organ pipes.

Finish off the day with a lovely evening at the Cock; today a tour around the quaint Hamlets surrounding Huntington, home of my gracious hosts Rupert Smythe – Farquarson and Hortense Higginbottom – Farquarson – David and Helen.

Thanks guys! Now to London to rejoin Jenny and Ross.

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