Over Land, Under Sea

Yet another early start saw us packed and on the streets by 7:30. Luckily with the train station so close it was an easy walk and stop at the patisserie across the road for breakfast on the run. The train back to Paris was exactly the same as the previous; we even managed to get a 5 seater cabin to ourselves again.
It was a relatively painless journey through the Paris Met to get from one Garde to another. At Norde we sat down for coffee and fries and filled out our paperwork for departure from the EU and into the UK. With a tear in our eyes we left Gabby there to fend for herself in the depths of the rail catacombs as we jumped onto the Chunnel Eurostar. There is no doubt that the rail system in Europe is well run. This trip highlighted it. We literary shot out of Paris at the very cool speed of 300km per hour. The vistas flicked by faster than a tourist weary Parisian’s raised eyebrow.
Luxuriating in 1st class, we couldn’t believe our luck when they rolled out drinks and lunch (Chicken or Salmon) it was fresh, tasty and needless to say the packed lunch we’d purchased in the sandwich shop stayed well and truly in its plastic bag – it was quite possibly the best travel experience any of us had ever had (or will again for that matter). To get from the centre of Paris to the centre of London in 2 Hours 10 minutes is extraordinary. Considering waiting times etc, not even flying could do better.
And so we arrived to the utter confusion of Kings Cross Railway station ($200) ; made worse because we forgot to research our destination the night before and therefore had no idea of where we needed to go – let alone how to get there. Phone calls, questions of railway staff and we finally got on the Underground to travel 2 stations to Great Portland St. (not on the Monopoly Board).
Our Hostel room is true Hostel stuff this time. Bunk beds and a pokey room – although it is all quite new. Its’ a joy to be back in a land where they all speak correctly. This means we are able to communicate fluently with sales staff and fully understand that they want to check our bags and not assume they are asking for frequent flyer cards. The train station messages are as garbled as ever though. One suspects they have the one training school for railway announcers all over the world (Australia included).
Whilst we would’ve preferred to sleep for 16 hours, we headed out on the town for a walk to see what the afternoon would bring. We wandered down to Oxford Street (Green) and were almost swept away by the tide of people. London is incredibly busy, noisy and chaotic. It’s also warm and humid – so much so there were thunder storms in the evening.
We drifted down through Soho (noting that this is a place to avoid in the evenings) and cutting a fine line between Piccadilly (Yellow) and Leicester Square (Yellow) we ended up in Trafalgar Square (Red). This area was also full of people, so much so there was very little room for pigeons. We then crossed The Strand (Red) and headed to the Thames seeing Big Ben, the Eye and lots of boats - we sat down at a bar, had some drinks, ate our lunch for dinner and hopped back on the Underground – back to the sanctity of the Hostel (complete with poorly designed shower). The forecast for tomorrow is rain – so we now need to figure out what to do in a wet London (Water Works perhaps?)

One château twice in one day

The day started with our promised sleep in and room delivered coffee and pastries (delivered by Gabby). We headed off to town loaded down with a weeks’ worth of washing in search of a Laundromat. Finding one and having a lot of fun interpreting the signs we inserted our load into the appropriately sized machine (after sorting it out with the only other two people in the place - who happened to be from Sandringham, Vic) and headed off for a quick shop. For Dad this means one item, one shop, knowing what you want and how much you will pay. Apparently not so for the rest of the team. So whilst the girls explored the delights of the end of season sales in Provincial France he headed off for a photo shoot over the other side of the river.
Upon returning to the Laundry Dad and Louisa then spent 1 hour drying the clothes and trying not to shrink the shirts. Succeeding on the first front and failing on the second, we eventually escaped and we all headed up the Cafe’ De Dennis which was named after the inventor of the steam engine (so they say). Lunch was a very relaxed and drawn out due to the slowness of the waitress, however we were in no hurry and the locals seemed to be fascinated in our conversations (they could hardly avoid them...).
We then headed up the Château Blois, which dominates the town physically, emotionally and touristicly. However it was not crowded which was very pleasant (we’d noticed this was the same in town - even though it was our first experience of a normal day here). We enjoyed the history of the place (including a real life Fencing duel) and fine views from the ramparts. Drinks and nibbles (purchased with some confusion in the supermarket)was enjoyed back in the rooms, as we prepared for a big night out as our last in the land of “bag searching check-out girls.
So we had dinner in a joint just around the corner which specialised in Wok cooking similar to Mongolian restaurants at home. The difference here is you only choose your vegies, they determine the quantities of everything else. We figure this is for economic reasons. It was great to have some food that was not wheat based for a change.

Relaxed and slowly getting used to the idea that dark happens around 11pm we headed back to the Chateau for the light spectacular and very impressive it was too. We all agreed that it was a good thing we chose the one night in the week they did it in English as it was hard enough to comprehend anyway. Looked great, re-enforced the stories we’d gotten wind of during the day (assassinations and key events in the history of France etc). And we all left feeling quite exhilarated. Tomorrow we part ways with Gabby as we head off under the channel and on to the land of soggy fish and chips and Beefeaters.

Two Chateaus’ in one day

The whole town was very quiet this morning. It seems the only sounds were the rare train trundling through the station and our Bus. The roads were almost still and very few people were on foot. All the shops were closed. It was a stroke of luck being so close to the station that we were able to stock up on supplies before we headed off through the Provincial French countryside to our first Chateau.
Chambord was built by a self centred French king who wanted to leave a lasting impression. He seemed to have managed to do this. It was fascinating to see how the building was designed (some say Leonardo had a hand in the central spiral staircase) and the succession of royal visitors over the years. We were not treated as royalty but we knew better. The girls have allocated their bedrooms and have grand plans for big parties once we move in.
Having plenty of time to kill, the girls hired a tandem bike/car thingy and took off for a circuit of the grounds whilst the more astute adults relaxed in the shade to consume a bottle of the local vino (which was purchased at the market someone had conveniently decided to run on this day – being the holiday) whilst watching the crowds mill around.
After more sitting around and nattering we jumped on the bus again to head to Castle Cheverny. This is located in the middle of a town which would have to take the prize for the best public flower boxes in the word. The Castle itself it still occupied by the original family. Through some clever negotiating skills they even managed to keep it through the Revolution.
So they now open it up to tourists and we suspect this pays for the upkeep and the lifestyles that they obviously enjoy. We spent some time wandering around the house, managed to get ourselves involved in the portrait room and then strolled the immaculately manicured grounds. Even the veggie patch had broken coloured glass walkways between the plant rows – very effective.
Ro and girls were a bit concerned about the overcrowding of the Hunting dogs. Threatening to call the local RSPCA until Louisa pointed out that the handouts even cover that angle and the Authorities have it all under control (so they say). Still, they do hunt twice week – the practice is still very strong. They didn’t actually say what they were hunting though. This, we suspect, is to keep the animal rights groups at bay.
Our trip back was through some provincial French suburbs – which look the same as any modern suburbs. Warehouses, shops, caryards etc. We did however take the scenic route along the river opposite the town centre which gave us some great views of the town. A walk and dinner in the main square (again) as every other option was closed to us and we’re now ready for a day of fewer activities and possibly a sleep in.

Blowing up Blois

Yet another early morning dash through the met and a complicated journey through a one if the huge interchange trains stations of Paris saw us onto our country bound train to Blois in the heart of the Château country. E had timed this so we well we got our own little cabin in 1st class on an over booked train and were thus very comfortable for our 2 hour fly through the heart of France.
As our Hotel is across the road from the train station it was very easy to locate and deposit our bags and go for a walk whilst they got the rooms ready. Had we had known we could have slept in and done the whole thing at afar lesser pace – but who’s to know that when your ½ a planet away and 6 months out ?
Anyway, through the misty rain and cold breezes we headed off to see what the town had to offer. We discovered that the information centre was run by some very strange women who purported to speak English but really had no idea. The town is less crowded than we are used to – which is really refreshing and the majority of tourists appear to be French – which is also refreshing.
Over lunch we planned the next 3 days activities and then did a self guided walk around the town. This was very well set up with markers on the footpaths to follow, a map and a tour guide (aka Isabel) who managed to give us a history of the entire town, every significant building and others. Whilst it may have lacked in accuracy it certainly made up for it in imagination and the interconnectedness of all things.
Once we got into the rooms we relaxed for a bit and then headed out for dinner. Tomorrow is a public holiday (so almost everyone had today off as well) and this evening they had a fireworks display to which the entire region appeared to show up to watch. So whilst we were having dinner in the main square we discovered that fireworks are still available in France for the youths to play with and they certainly don’t seem to mind doing so. In public. The police don’t seem to mind but it certainly made a few visitors wonder where the next terrorist attack was going to come from. We discussed the possibility of sorting them out but in the end we figured that even Gabby’s practiced Principle’s glare would not curb their fun. When in Rome...
So we joined the throngs and headed to the bridge – they were obviously waiting for something and being the natural queuers that we have become (thanks for that Walt) we waited with them. As it does not get dark until 10:30pm and not really, really dark until 11:00 we waited and waited and waited. Eventually they turned the street lights off (they take their fireworks seriously over here) and the show began.
The sound of the booms echoing off the churches and Château was awesome, the light show spectacular and the pressure waves from the big ones were enough to make our clothing ripple. So it was fun. Exhausted after walking back up the hill to our room we are now wondering if the itinerary we have set for tomorrow was such a smart move...

It’s a small world after all

We had a lesson today in how the small the world really is and what’s required in order to keep the thing spinning. Getting up early in preparation for a memorable day we took advantage of Gabbys’ pre-planning and plunged back into a very quiet Met (Sunday morning) and headed off on the RER to country France. About an hour out of town they’ve built a replica of Disneyland, complete with towers, magical events and people dressed up in fluffy dog outfits (Pluto, Goofy et. al.). Disney Europe is a big attraction. This can also be interpreted as “There will be queues”.

We had to queue to get our bags checked. Then we queued to get tickets (even though they were pre-purchased), then we queued to use our tickets to get in. Once we were in, we duly found that everywhere we went – we had to queue. Disney has the art of queuing down pat. They have the ability to take a really long queue (like we are now used to eg. Coluseum, Eiffel Tower etc) and make them really compact, so they don’t look that long but, by jingos – they are. We discovered after our first wait (Thunder Mountain – 55 minutes wait - 1minute ride) that they have a Fast Queue system. This works really well for all the people that know about it. By the time the time everyone has figured it out – they close it down. There is a science to queues – most businesses know this – Disney take it to another level as they get people to pay for the privilege of being in them.
Apart from the queues (including 30 minutes to get a poorly packed Ice cream) we all had a fabulous day. Disney do know how to entertain. We had great fun on roller coasters, stunt shows (over at Disney Studios – the twin theme park), animation overviews, back lot tours where we got rocked, flamed and washed all in the space of a minute (queue time 40 min). We had a ride to the Death Star and back (queue time 40 minutes), we went through the Haunted House. (queue time 5 min – got lucky there), we drove cars (45 mins). And we also got to see what happens when High 5 meets Mickey Mouse (with budget). Fascinating - the whole thing.
We also got to experience the underlying philosophy of Disney in “It’s a Small World” ride (queue time 40 minutes) where they manage to use a heap of kids from different cultures to push the point that we can (and should) accept and appreciate each other (as nations). This was pointed out by Gabby later - at the time it just seemed that yes, it really is a small world, but why do most of the inhabitants in it have to come here today?
Exhausted, but exhilarated we left just as the grand parade was getting under way. This was quiet funny as the crowds had nothing better to do but to line the streets for an hour beforehand in order to stand at the front. They were actually doing this without an official queuing mechanism. After a long day I guess they just needed to queue some more. We thought it best to leave early so we didn’t have to deal with the post parade hordes on the trains back to Paris (queue jumpers we are – where we can).
Dinner in the Hotel Common room (cleverly purchased by Ro – somehow) and everyone has crashed – tomorrow we run away from Paris and their Bastille day celebrations – most likely a good thing as jeers about the Rainbow Warrior from the back of the crowds would probably not be appreciated.

Under a cloudy Paris Sky

After poking our noses in a local street market (looked great - fresh fish, meats, fruits, vegies, olives.. the list goes on) and another quick view the internals of Notre Dame we headed back down into the Met to ride to the Louvre. The size of this establishment is awesome, also it the way they have re-engineered the ticketing system. So there were the usual hordes of tourists and no queues. The place was packed, but not uncomfortable. We powered through the through the throngs in order to get a look at Da Vinci’s Lisa.
There is no doubt that they were up to something when it was being painted. That smirk is indicating either shenanigans or prescience in knowing that millions of people in the future will crowd around wondering what was going on when it was painted.
We then strolled the halls looking for the Venus de Milo – wondering why it was so relevant. On the way we found many different items ranging from Easter Island statues to bits off the Parthenon. When we found Venus we discovered that it was simply yet another ancient Grecian statue (head on, arms off). She is very nice though.
Lunch on the run this time was had on the steps of the Club Med Gym. French pastries taste good wherever they’re had. We then headed over to the Triumphant Archway, via a stroll along the Avenue Des Champs Elysees, which is home to all the expensive French designer labels. We spotted Louis Vuitton, Mont Blanc, Pierre Cardin, Renault, McDonalds and Peugeot amongst many more.
The crowds were truly extraordinary, millions of people (seemingly) all walking around with seemingly nowhere to go except the other end of the road. After a stroll around the Arc we headed off in the direction of the real shops (aka La Fayette). This is an amazing shop, built around a beautiful stained glass dome. Needless to say the stuff in here is quite costly. We hung around this area for a bit, viewing another toffy shop (Printemps) and following the never ending quest for attachments for bracelets. This was quite fun as we got to speak to some Parisians in expensive shops and endeavour to interpret what they were saying. A stroll through town and a park and another cruise on the ferries got us back to the Notre Dame river stop as the bells were ringing - and ringing and ringing... no wonder Quasi went a bit wacko.

For dinner we wandered into the small winding bustling streets of the Latin Quarter. All went well, as we left our restaurant the owner was very keen to introduce Izzy to his son. Admittedly she did look cute in her Beret and matching scarf, so very French looking and yet still Aussie through and through. No wonder he was stricken.

Two trips to the tower

After a French breaky delivered by an English woman in the common room of the hotel we headed off by foot to explore the delights of the town. First stop was the Musée d’Orsay. This place has some valuable works of art, housed in an old railway station and protected by armed undercover security guards. We all found something in here which we recognised and thus appreciated. Some items touched others more than some and some others more than none – thus is the nature of art in Paris.

It was then a quick saunter over to the Musée Rodin where we all got to have a look at the Thinker. Much to Dad’s surprise it did not start with an “S” and did not smell in the slightest. Isabel got to stand at the Gates of Hell (or in front of ... whatever) and Ro got to reacquaint herself with the Kisser.

After a bite of crepe’s, quiches and baguettes quaintly sitting on the side of a Rue we headed over to that tower thingy that everyone bangs on about. In 4 days time its Bastille Day here. This means that all the French go nuts over the fact that they’ve never won a war but they did manage to sink a Greenpeace ship and get away with it. Consequently they’re putting up stands and closing thoroughfares etc. Should be fun. The crowds around the tower were exactly as the guide books predicted; we waited an hour to get to the first two levels and decided not to wait for another 2 hours to get to the top. We did get to appreciate the splendour of the whole thing. Basically it’s a big Mechano kit construction – complete with pulleys, winches and shops. When we got up there we were faced with thousands of mini towers - oh the confusion. When we got down we were faced by a plethora of more replicas – this time thrust up our noses by unwelcome sales reps.

Bleeding (not really) but still replica-less we headed over to the river to catch a slow boat back to our Latin Quarter. Wandering back through the Isle St-Louis we discovered the Crème-de-la-Crème of Ice-Crème Rue’s. This was possibly the best ice cream ever had (although distant memories of Denmark stir some emotion in that arena). Going to extreme levels of naughtiness we headed back to the room to consume more vitals i.l.o the common room. If the Cleaners dob us in we could be facing detention....

After dinner 3 doors doors down, and full of bravado we headed into the underground to see the afore mentioned Mechano set under lights. This was an adventure worth many more words than a daily blog space can support...We encountrered many buskers on the moving trains. This is obviously an industry. Working Class Hero (Lennon/Green Day) was great. The rest was - shut up we’re over it. Whilst full of seemingly strange (possibly dangerous) characters the system runs well and we got to the tower intime to see it sparkle in some sort of Bastillely Day way which was awesome.

The whole area was packed with tourists and the same sellers still trying to push replicas of the tower up our noses. The difference was this time we could see them coming as they glowed in multicoloured splendour so we could easily dodge them in the dark. As we headed across the bridge thus towards the Palace du Challot, the entire horde of them started sprinting away from us. As it turns out all these hundreds of dudes (one may say - Jivein’ dudes - to remain PC) are pushing their wares illegally. So we had 2 cops pretending to be sheep dogs and hundreds of Dudes being sheep – but much faster than the dogs. In 10 minutes the cops had gone and it was business as normal. It was hilarious. The only change was that the tourists who had witnessed the show were now empowered to say “shove that up my nose again and I’ll call the cops”.

A similar midnight(ish) trip back via the Met and we are safely ensconced in our room.

Flying to France

The day started with a warm sun streaming in the through the ageless shutters and a perfect Adriatic Sea breeze to keep the heat a bay. The sounds early morning Venice drifting up from the narrow streets was a poignant reminder that we were about to leave this magical place and head off to our next destination. Another long trek back through the heart of the town, dragging the bags behind (up and down the countless steps again) and to the bus depot. A short trip the airport, more long waits (they call it Easy Jet – it should be called Not so Easy Jet) and a 2 hour flight saw us land in Paris.
It was somewhat disconcerting to have the entire plane collect their bags and leave and we’re standing there by ourselves with one bag short. Just before panic set in – our one lonely bag appeared by itself and with a sigh of relief we headed off to the train station. After a semi-nervous trip on the old crowded trains, we appeared out of the subways onto the Melbourne end of Boulevard St. Michel (well it looks like Collins St....). The second thing we noticed is that it’s much cooler here
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A joyous meeting with Gabby ensued and as she had cased the joint for us, we headed straight to the Hotel to break the first (what we expect will be many) of their rules. i.e. we had food and drinks in the room.
We then headed out for a stroll around town, leaving our centrally located home in the Latin Quarter and onto the Ile de la Cite, we stopped to admire the Notre Dame and then headed up to the Centre Georges Pompidou. This is a fascinating building where all the plumbing is on the outside. Luckily they did not expose the whole internal workings by making the pipes transparent. Very nice views across the skyline to the tower and other landmarks was enjoyed by all.. Afterwards we went for drinks in Place E Michelet before kebabs in front of the pipeworks again. Drifting back to our room we poked our noses inside the Notre Dame and then watched the sunset over La Seine

Off the Map

The mornings aim was to browse shops for Venetian glass, grab some breakfast on the way and take a ride on a Gondola. All started out well as we knew where a Bakery was on the other side of the Grand Canal and Dad thought we’d just wander from there. We drifted from district to district, slowly noticing the decline in crowds, prices and ambiance. By the time Dad admitted to being totally lost and no idea of direction everyone else was hot, bothered and totally fed up with his “what the heck” attitude. “Where the heck are we?” was a polite way of expressing the concerns at the time.
Ro decided to take control; and asked someone for direction (as it turns out we were not even on our maps)and thus we headed out of the slums and back towards the Grand Canal (the south entrance).Upon reaching the said waterway (just near Academia) we snaffled the first dude wearing the appropriate garb, jumped in his punt and whipped around the local waterways, some narrow, some.. not so narrow. It was all very pleasant if a bit hot in the midday sun. When we disembarked, our punters got so distracted with other customers we could have easily skedaddled out of there without paying. However, as we had identified ourselves as from Melbourne we thought it best to maintain our Aussie reputation and patiently waited a good 15 minutes whilst they sorted themselves out. The look of surprise on our punters face was priceless when he realised that he’d forgotten to collect his fees.
Feeling like we were the bees’ knees of conscientiousness, we headed back through previously unexplored parts of the maze, this time keeping a close eye on the map and where we were going. As a consequence we grabbed lunch and were back in our room quicker than it took Napoleon to realise he had a size issue. Getting into the spirit of the siesta we bunkered down for a mid afternoon kip with the warm breeze wafting through the open shutters, buoyed by the sounds of the thousands of tourists (many different languages) drifting up from the Campo below.
Afterwards Isabel decided to perform some mime and dressed up as Dad the tourist. This was very entertaining and as a consequence Dad has decided that having a siesta is not worth having the Pisa taken out of him.
For dinner, we headed north – for no other reason in that we had not ventured in that direction yet – and found a place which suited all our needs (admittedly we are now a bit over pasta and pizza).. (On the way we saw more gondolas than you could point an oar at....)This worked out really well, as we have found out in this town, 100 meters from the main tourist routes and prices drop dramatically.
Tonight we’ll close the shutters, block out the noise from the drunken hordes below (this time they sound Swedish) and get ready for our journey to the land of frogs legs and perfect derrières.

A watery day in Venice

After discovering the delights of raised prices for sitting down and eating in a cafe’ for a late brunch, we headed down through the chaotic winding streets to the chaotic Piazza San Marco. Apparently Napoleon got to here and subsequently every over tourist to Italy does as well. This has the unique distinction of having the only real high bell tower in the country that is actually standing up dead straight (well that we’ve noticed anyway). They also have a real rising damp problem here as we discovered later in the day.
After taking some obgiatory photos we headed back through the maze of shopping arcades to our room which would have to be so well centrally located that a bulls-eye on a dart board could not have got it better. Deciding that we really needed to see what all this glass blowing stuff was about we hopped on a tour to three local islands.
Waiting to hop on the boat we got to experience a really good thunder storm which had the fabulous effect in clearing the piazza of the hordes of tourists and turned them into sardines under the few available shelters. We watched with interest the torrents of rain swirling down the same drains that (as it turns out) on a high tide it comes pouring back up again.

Our boat took us to the island of Murano where we saw a master craftsman turn a molten blob of sand into a statue of a rearing stallion and then light his cigarette from it to prove it was still really hot. These guys are good. The work they produce is truly beautiful and each one an individual work of art. Even if they all do look the same. After that we went to the island of Burano where they tried to flog Lace as an industry. Far more exciting was the fact that their bell tower has a serious lean on it (put Pisa to shame – except that’s not marble and no one’s allowed near it). They’ve also decorated their town houses in boldly different colours and have taken window boxes to another level. A really quiet place and struck as all as a unique location in the word. The next Island was Torcello which was where habituation in the area all began. Nothing there but a couple of old churches which was absolutely astounding with the effort put into the mosaics all those years ago. This will be a big attraction in years to come.
After dinner (it’s quite weird to have risotto on a Chinese menu and have the waiter say “prego”) we headed out to capture some scenes of the City of Lights at night. Good fun. Back at the piazza the full moon was bringing in a high tide which was filling up the square through the previously used drains, creating ample opportunities for those with tripods and wet feet for anyone who wanted to get through.

Through the mountains to the sea.

Another hot trek through the early morning crowds of weekday Florence to the train station was perfectly timed to hop straight onto our next transport. This train was exactly the same type as from Rome and shot into the mountains like an arrow into a watermelon (?!). Anyway, it moved really quickly, so much so that the rivers of rain washing down the side were almost horizontal. The girls buried themselves in books whilst Dad played a game of snap. This involved trying to get a reasonable photo of the interesting sights that flashed by, many shots snapped, many shots deleted...
It was another picturesque view of many different angles of Italian life. From quaint mountainside villages to heavy industrial and poor urban landscapes and a significant amount of fertile land being farmed. They certainly do not seem to be suffering any sort of drought or lack of water here.
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Venice looks like you’d expect Venice to look like. Gondolas, gondolas and more .... gondolas. It is truly amazing – because it’s built like a maze. Maps don’t really help, but the signs do. We took a punt (not literally – you need to be careful with colloquialisms like that around here) and decided to walk through town to get to our Pension instead of catching a Water Bus. It was hard work due to the fact that every bridge over the plethora of canals has steps (they obviously designed this place before wheelchair access became a design criteria). Lugging the ever increasing weight of our luggage up and down these obstacles was tiring. We have also discovered that packing many people into a small area and giving them all different places to go at different paces brings the worst out in some. Apparently elbowing and bumping is the norm – hopefully this is a just a first impression and we don’t have to adopt this social behaviour whilst we’re here.
Eventually we made it to our room. It has a lot of character. The building was built in the 1400’s although at some stage in the last couple of years it’s been refurbished to provide modern amenities. The window shutters look like they’re almost original. It overlooks a small campo (square) close to the Rialto Bridge and is also one of the main thoroughfares in town. This does not mean the streets below are any wider; they’re just more incredibly packed and noisy. Our room is on the corner, so we get views along 2 different streets. The campo has a bar in it and as we settle down for the night the crowd below is starting to get very rowdy. According to Ro this will give the girls an insight into how stupid males can be when they get drunk.

A Piece of Pisa

Breaky in the Hostel was followed by a brisk walk through very quiet Florence streets to the train station. It was busy here with the place teeming with thousands of people all looking expectantly at one thing or another in order to get where they needed to go. We needed to get to Pisa in order to fulfil our touristy obligations. We were certainly not in the minitory. However as it was Sunday there were heaps of seats and the train, whilst old and musty – it still flew through the Tuscany countryside at a great pace. We were duly deposited in Pisa in just over an hour to find the town well and truly shut (except of course those establishments relying on the tourist trade). This was actually a blessing as we got to wander our way up to the main attractions on quiet streets. It was hot and muggy in those closed in corridors and it was pleasant to be faced with a cool breeze when we finally reached the emerald green lawns of the Campio dei Miracoli.

About a thousand years ago they decided this would be a great place to build impressive stuff. Looks like they forgot to do a soil drill test before-hand. Consequently they have been struggling with the decision ever since. Well the engineers have – the civic leaders must love having such an effective earning attraction in their midst. It’s nice to see the marble taken from the Colosseum was put to good use, as the buildings are very ornate and are positively gleaming after their recent scrubbing..



The emerald green lawns are kept that way by a policeman who walks around blowing his whistle very loudly in tourists’ ears advising them to stay off the grass. This is quite funny to watch as the tourists have no idea as there are no signs to say this is the rule and they are all very much focused on getting pictures of themselves pretending to either knock the tower over or save it from falling.
Having a whistle screech in your ear followed by a tirade of Italian authority adds to the overall experience. What makes this a perfect situation comedy is the Authority himself walks all over the precious turfHaving experienced this slice of the town (and nothing else) we headed back to the train station and shot back to Florence enjoying more rustic Tuscany scenes flash past. The trains might not be the fast ones but they still move very quickly.

Tomorrow we head to another Italian engineering decision gone wrong (this one surrounded by water). It’s interesting they can do so well by admitting to their mistakes and instead of fixing them; they just suggest that everyone should come and have a look.

Fun in Florence

Another walking tour of another city saw us all exhausted yet again. Florence is much smaller, cleaner and has a nicer feel to it than Rome. It was also very quiet today. Being Saturday it seems that the only people moving around were the multitudes of tourists. Thus less traffic and subsequence noise – it seemed very relaxed 2 blocks away from any major tourist attraction.
Under Louisa’s astute guidance we first went to a supermarket to stock up on vital supplies (we had learnt in Rome that Gatorade a few hours in is a good way of reviving energy levels) and we then headed off to the Museum uncommonly known as “David’s place”. Whilst Ro and Izzy waited in line Neil and Louisa whipped around town to tidy up some shopping loose ends and in timely fashion met them back in the front of the line about 1 hour later.

David is very impressive. So is his marketing. You pay to see him, but you can’t take your own photos – you have to pay for others impressions. Thus the only memory of ours that we can take away is a stolen view of his bum, which according to the women folk - is very impressive.

Worn out – we then sojourned to a quiet piazza with trees, pigeons and miniature busses - to revitalise with our previously procured provisions. Aptly re-energised we headed off into the hot centre of town, took one look at the queues at the Duomo and instead headed off in search of a WC. This turned out to be a paying but worthwhile respite. More walking took us across the river (the nice cool breeze was very welcome) and then armed with ice creams we sauntered over the Ponte Vecchio back into the touristy chaos of the Palazzo Vecchio and then on to the Duomo.

We struck it lucky – no queues – so up the countless steps, narrow passageways and claustrophobic tunnels we trudged - stopping to argue the point about the constant stopping with some tourists from another western society who seemed to think it’s their god given right to hold everyone up – we will forever be labelled as “complainers” - we will however stand on our soap box that we were actually considering the welfare of the 200 or so people behind us.

The views at the top were great, the vertigo somewhat disconcerting for some. Afterwards we headed out for dinner and finally managed to find a restaurant in Italy of substandard quality and exorbitant prices, this was offset by the fabulous facilities back at the hostel in which we cheaply filled our partially empty tummies and recuperated with a game of billiards.

A fast train to Florence

As the train station in Rome was only 20 steps away from the Hostel, it was an easy pack up, quick breaky and drag the bags across the cobblestones to the chaos of the train station. Pre-purchased tickets made the whole thing easy, we were kindly shown to our seats by someone who did not ask us if we wanted his services (i.e. we can read) so therefore he was told quite categorically that he was not going to be paid for them – eventually he got the idea and left to rip off someone else.
The train was luxurious - compared to any other form of transport we’ve had so far - and we all thoroughly enjoyed the 1.5 hour trip to Florence (so much so we actually wanted to stay on it when we arrived). We had shot out of Rome like a rat out of an aqueduct, scenes of rural Italy flashed by, punctuated by the darkness of many tunnels. We identified fields of sunflowers, vineyards – many other green pastures of “other stuff” were apparent. Villages of old cottages topped with terracotta roofs dotted the landscape and a plethora of castles and monasteries sat on the tops of the hills and mountains as a stark reminder of who used to rule this land during the dark ages.
After disembarking, Louisa used her new found navigation skills to guide us to our next Hostel. This is a distinct contrast to the dreary dive in Rome. It’s new, bright, well run, has all the facilities (including a pool) and is full of young back packers living in dorms. We have a large private room to ourselves and are very appreciative of the fact that the shower does not back up and TV actually works. It’s also fascinating to watch the road outside being remade, although the shaking of the entire room is somewhat disconcerting.
After lunch on the roof looking at the Duomo, we had a quick reconnoitrer around the markets in the afternoon and then back to the refuge of the hostel to do our laundry and the girls had a swim. The pool constantly changes colours – we assume this is order to help the backpackers through their psychedelic phases. In order to avoid the shrinkage of last time the washing is now hanging from the beds for its final drying - Ikea designs win out again for practicality. We had dinner in the hostel (cheap) and then went up on the roof to watch the sun set over the roof tops – which was awe inspiring. The refreshing breeze was enough to make one realise why the scientists and artists of the renaissance realised there was more to life than repression. Tomorrow we tread the well worn paths again to seek out yet more relevant historical artefacts.

Hail (in) Rome.

Getting up in time for breakfast, we headed out on the town for another day of high jinks, this time around the ancient part of Rome, all the whilst keeping an eye out for a shop which may happen to sell nuts and bolts in order to repair a broken suitcase (courtesy the local baggage handlers at the airports). The city was busy, hot, and humid, so we quickly ducked into a museum. This appeared to contain all the missing heads of the statues from the first museum we visited 2 days ago. You’d reckon they’d go to the effort of combining them – we wouldn’t have minded if they didn’t exactly match...
And so we strolled down the hill, following the steadily growing crowds of tourists until we came to the Colosseum.This is really big, would’ve been even bigger if it hadn’t been pillaged and then let decay over the years. It was apparently designed to seat 55,000 people, who could all come and be seated within 10 minutes prior to the show starting. It’s taken 2,000 years but they’ve finally managed to solve that issue. Subsequently we had to wait an hour in a long line, pay exorbitant fees to walk around a crusty relic with no show at all. Luckily our imagination could place the recipients of the (we estimated) 1 million Euro per day takings – as the victims of the proceedings in the middle.
Hot and bothered we trudged back into the centre of town to check out the Monomento Victtorio Emanuele. At this point temperatures were boiling so we didn’t spend too long checking out Mussolini’s folly and headed across the piazza for a cold drink of water - 2 of at a cost of $10 Aus.

After visiting yet another museum (this one showing the archaeological revelations of multiple civilisations building on top of the previous ones) we headed home via the local bus. This is an interesting social experiment akin to a sardine factory. The idea is you get a tin container (aka Bus), pack as many sardines (aka people) in as you can, seal tightly (ie. close the doors) and apply heat (aka sun). For good measure shake around a bit whilst it’s cooking (aka bumpy roads). The lack of salt (aka flavouring) was apparently missing at the start, however we soon realised that that this vital ingredient was supplied by the multitudes of participants through their natural sweat.

After being poured out of the tin, we slowly wiped our component parts off the cobblestones into a coherent glob of our original selves and headed back to the refuge of our poorly air-conditioned room for “debrief and cocktails”. We then found the nuts and bolts in a shop 20 meters from our Hostel. The daily build-up of tropical storms resulted in a spectacular display of rain, hail, lightning and thunder whilst we caught our collective breaths. The girls thoroughly enjoyed looking out the window of the room at all the other people across the narrow road doing likewise.

After dinner we now feel recuperated enough to prepare for our jaunt to the birthplace of our current civilisation. The thought of actually not walking to getting somewhere is quite exhilarating.

Rain in Rome

The day started bright, sunny and warm and us missing breakfast due to sleeping in. It wasn’t until after our first cathedral (straight out of the Da Vinci Code - with sun dials on the floor) that Ro noticed that the temperature was 29 and the time was actually an hour earlier than the watch indicated. Tomorrow we will not miss breakfast as the watch is now adjusted. We spent the entire day crossing the centre of Rome from east to west, churches, cathedrals, Spanish Steps, Trevi Fountains, Panthenons, Shops, Museums, Markets and eventually the Vatican. It was a long intensive and yet somewhat fulfilling day. Very stimulating.
There were many highlights, a quick survey reveals:-
Isabel: Trevi Fountain
Louisa: Sitting excluded from St. Peters due to dress code (not!!).
Rosemary: The Sistine Chapel
Neil: Having a church all to ourselves.
In one of our museum exploits we were very happy in that we found statues with their heads attached. This gave a certain sense of realism to the exhibits. It was here that we had pretty much the whole place to ourselves (including an old church), we found out later why – everyone (aka hordes) were going to the Vatican.
Due to near nakedness Ro and Louisa were barred from St. Peters Basilica. This was just reward for standing in line the hot sun for an hour, so Izzy and Dad went in, took some photo’s, admired the architecture, furnishings and the amount of tourists walking around fully dressed (also taking photos) and got out as quickly as possible in order to keep the team as one.
We then traipsed around the block to get to the Sistine Chapel. The area has changed enormously over the years. The whole facility is now a fully blown Museum (which means modern architecturally designed buildings charging exorbitant prices to get in). All we wanted to see was the Sistine Chapel – the signs routed us up, down, along that passage, down that ramp, through that catacomb, around that bend, wind through that maze, via a couple of secret doors and eventually into the chapel (yay!). The art has not changed over the years (magnificent), the crowds certainly have (recalcitrant). It was really quite funny; seating for say (50) people with easily 2000 in there. No photos, no speaking, no sitting anywhere unless you’re one of the lucky 50. Therefore there are lots of security people running around telling people to put their cameras away, stop sitting on the steps and SHHHHHHH !
Upon exiting, the boom of thunder was rolling around Rome, the Gods (it seems) were angry, I suggest it was due to people sitting on the steps in the chapel – or the bare shoulders. Dodging the forthcoming wrath we ducked into the Met and travelled back across town with the locals. It’s amazing how many people in Rome seem to judge us first by our shoes (they are after all - matching).
Tomorrow we explore the ruins. We’re now considering what level of nakedness would get us barred from the Colosseum....

Italia here we are!

Up early again in order to hit the road, a nice Mercedes taxi ride to the airport, more long queues waiting to check in and it was farewell to Greece, a quick flight over ancient islands and seas and we flew into Rome. On the way down we spied some fields which prompted the question “is that where they grow the wheat for the Pizzas?”. The wait for the baggage was longer than the flight, after seeing how they handle the bags here I’m surprised any of them survive intact.

Fangio drove us from the airport to the district where our hostel is located. It was meant to be a front door drop off. Thanks to the maps Grandma gave us before we left, we had a better idea of where to find the street than he did.

The Hostel is quite weird. The building is shared by other hotels and the reception is next door. It’s like trying to negotiate the catacombs getting around. The room is small and pokey with no view or balcony. We were certainly spoiled on the islands. From here on in the hard work starts.

We have just ventured out to get the washing done. Thanks to some overzealous washing dudes all the shirts have now shrunk, needless to say Ro is not happy about this. In order to find our feet we wandered around town – avoiding the train station and the dodgy characters hanging around there. We ended up at a museum which has lots of artefacts recovered from archaeological digs over the years. Quite interesting, unlike the statue we stood next to (who has not yet found her head) - we found our feet – they are all tired and throbbing as we are all exhausted..

Blogging could be a bit difficult over the next few days – we need to see if we can find some WiFi.