Today was Sunday, and it was an extraordinary day for us three travellers from little ol’ Tasmania. Toronto is hosting World Pride, which is an international week-long event of festivals, concerts, parades and cultural activities promoting lesbian and gay issues. It’s only held every few years – last time was in London, next time will be in Madrid. Toronto has been planning this week for five years.
The day started at breakfast. Our hosts Jill and Walter are involved in a support group called PFLAG – Parents and Friends of Lesbians And Gays, and the group hosted a breakfast as part of Pride Week. About two hundred people came, and somehow many of them gravitated toward us, as we had clearly travelled the furthest than anyone to be there. Perhaps the most important “celebrity” to attend was the Premier of Ontario, Kathleen Wynn, who is the first female premier of Ontario and the first openly gay head of government in Canada. We were introduced to her and she asked us about our trip, our home, and our plans. It was a short but friendly conversation that could’ve been had with any local Canadian, except for the menacing security guy standing directly behind us with an earpiece and closely surveying the room with no interest at all in our chat. We also met other local politicians who asked us about gay issues in Australia – we felt like ambassadors for our country. I wished we could’ve delivered a more encouraging assessment of our government’s antiquated Marriage Equality laws.
After breakfast we walked a few blocks into the heart of the city, staked our claim at the kerbside behind the barricades, and waited for the main parade that would be the concluding event of Pride. It began at 1pm, and it was 1:45 by the time the parade reached us. Three hours later, the parade was still passing by, which was an indication of its immense scale. Apparently 12,000 people participated. What was impressive was the number of services and businesses who had a representation in the parade – a national bank, the national airline, a telecommunications company, an aged care home, hospitals, doctors and nurses, trade unions, police and prison services, postal workers, teachers and schools, and seemingly people from every country on the planet. The diversity of support for taking pride in your individuality was quite encouraging. Rainbow coloured flags were everywhere. Media reports estimated that a crowd of two million people lined the streets to watch the parade, certainly the largest crowd I have even been a part of.
At the parade’s conclusion, we went back to PFLAGs booth and helped dismantle it, after we’d helped set it up the day before. It was nice to be involved in a local volunteer group, just doing their stuff, and meeting many people from all walks of life. It was an extraordinary day.
Sunday, 29 June 2014
Friday, 27 June 2014
Toronto, Canada
An international voyage involving different continents can be tiresome, boring and monotonous. I try not to let that spoil the experience, as it is a very rare one for us. I find airports fascinating. Looking beyond the queues, security checks and Customs, airports are a melting pot of nationalities, all under the same roof for a brief instance before heading off to their respective destinations somewhere in the world.
The reunion at Toronto’s Pearson International Airport was emotional, as it had been over a year since we’d held our daughter in our arms, and seven years since we’d seen Jill and Walter. Driving towards the city showed us the stark differences from what we’d become used to after two weeks in Italy. Toronto is such a modern city that it is almost futuristic by comparison to Rome. Eight–lane expressways with apartment buildings and condos on each side, soaring 40 or 50 stories high. Skyscrapers in the distance. Stone and marble has been replaced by concrete and glass. Several Canadian icons remind us of where we are – Tim Horton’s coffee, Canada Trust bank, Pizza Pizza, Westjet, and of course the CN Tower in the distance.
We will initially stay at Jill and Walter’s home, and as we drove through their neighbourhood the streets became familiar, even after seven years. The houses are renovated post-war bungalows with a small plot of lawn and no front fence, a few steps leading to the front door, a second story above and a basement below. There is a slight homecoming feeling as we pull into their driveway.
Over coming days we get a feel for what life is like living in Toronto. We toured Dayna’s work - Corus is a national broadcaster of radio and cable television, and the multistorey glass building contains rooms and studios that could be used on the set of a Star Trek movie. We meet her workmates and are immediately made to feel welcome. We then visited her partner Adam’s job in a downtown hardware store, all within walking distance to their high-rise apartment down by the shores of Lake Ontario. Dayna’s view from the 43rd floor looking over Toronto’s retractable-roofed stadium and the CN Tower, with the busy Gardiner Freeway directly below, must be Canada’s equivalent to Australia’s Sydney Harbour skyline.
The reunion at Toronto’s Pearson International Airport was emotional, as it had been over a year since we’d held our daughter in our arms, and seven years since we’d seen Jill and Walter. Driving towards the city showed us the stark differences from what we’d become used to after two weeks in Italy. Toronto is such a modern city that it is almost futuristic by comparison to Rome. Eight–lane expressways with apartment buildings and condos on each side, soaring 40 or 50 stories high. Skyscrapers in the distance. Stone and marble has been replaced by concrete and glass. Several Canadian icons remind us of where we are – Tim Horton’s coffee, Canada Trust bank, Pizza Pizza, Westjet, and of course the CN Tower in the distance.
We will initially stay at Jill and Walter’s home, and as we drove through their neighbourhood the streets became familiar, even after seven years. The houses are renovated post-war bungalows with a small plot of lawn and no front fence, a few steps leading to the front door, a second story above and a basement below. There is a slight homecoming feeling as we pull into their driveway.
Over coming days we get a feel for what life is like living in Toronto. We toured Dayna’s work - Corus is a national broadcaster of radio and cable television, and the multistorey glass building contains rooms and studios that could be used on the set of a Star Trek movie. We meet her workmates and are immediately made to feel welcome. We then visited her partner Adam’s job in a downtown hardware store, all within walking distance to their high-rise apartment down by the shores of Lake Ontario. Dayna’s view from the 43rd floor looking over Toronto’s retractable-roofed stadium and the CN Tower, with the busy Gardiner Freeway directly below, must be Canada’s equivalent to Australia’s Sydney Harbour skyline.
Tuesday, 24 June 2014
Rome, Italy
Rome is a city brimming with highlights, places to see, sights to admire, sensations to experience. Our four days have hardly scratched the surface. But there was one that we had left until the very last day. We headed south from our hotel to the area known as Ancient Rome, an incredibly concentrated region of 2,000 year old ruins with three famous icons – the Palatine, the Forum and the Colosseum. We paid 12 Euro each for a ticket to all three, and spent a fascinating day walking the streets of the Rome of two thousand years ago. Granted, the buildings were in ruins, but it wasn’t hard to imagine life as it was back then. The Palatine is on top of a hill and was where the wealthy Romans lived, including the Emperor, looking down on the ordinary citizens going about their business below in the Forum. What structures remained were simply amazing, with columns, steps, marble facades, cobblestone streets. The most amazing was the Colosseum, not only for the ruins still intact but the stories behind the purpose of its construction. While the floor is no longer there, this enables you to see the maze of underground rooms where wild animals would be caged and brought to the arena by a complex system of winches. Our equivalent of the MCG or Docklands in Melbourne.
And so we complete four hectic days in Rome, and yet there is so much more to see. Indeed, two weeks in Italy is hardly adequate to see it all, but we’ve given it a dam good try. My impressions of this fantastic country, as we pack our bags for a 5:45am taxi to the airport tomorrow morning …
• The Italians who have charmed us along the way – the Bangla Deshi restaurateur in Venice, with his free lemoncellos; our tourguides Maria and her Dad Rafaelle in Sorrento, and not forgetting our landlady, the lady in the bulk wine shop and the family who ran our favourite Sorrento restaurant; Giovanni in our favourite Rome restaurant near the Pantheon, Daniella (a guy) at our Rome hotel who was a musician and envied us living in Australia, and many more. Italians seem constantly happy, and it’s infectious.
• Italian buildings are either old, very old, or ancient (ie, 500 years, 1000 years, or 2000 years old). No building is over 6 stories high, so there are no skyscrapers. Even if there is something built in the past 50 years, it is more than likely sitting next to a wall constructed 2,000 years ago. These city landscapes really are a blend of ancient and recent.
• The Indian/Pakistani street merchants who were selling anything under the sun, and oh so annoying in the process, but the ones selling cold water bottles were most welcome at times.
• Speaking of water, throughout all Italian cities, we found water fountains dispensing running water. However, these were running constantly, and you could fill up your water bottle with fresh drinking water. In Australia, this would be considered criminal, as water is so precious to us. To see so many taps running constantly down the drain was so strange indeed.
• Italian traffic was as we had been told – chaotic, with no rules. Pedestrians crossing the road take their lives into their own hands. Commuting is predominately by scooter, which outnumbers cars two to one, and motorbikes ten to one. Ridden by young teenagers to little old ladies and businessmen in suits.
• The Italian economy must run on tourism, as foreigners seem to outnumber locals at this time of year. How easy is it to pick the Australian accent? We were told that crowds to the Vatican have tripled since the election of the new Pope, with Papa Francesca proving to be an economic goldmine for Vatican tourism.
We bid farewell to Italy with some wonderful memories, knowing that the county’s ancient heritage is in good hands (we saw many archaeologists working at Ancient Rome), and maybe we feel a little closer to our Australian-Italian friends, now that we’ve experienced where they’ve come from.
Canada ... here we come.
And so we complete four hectic days in Rome, and yet there is so much more to see. Indeed, two weeks in Italy is hardly adequate to see it all, but we’ve given it a dam good try. My impressions of this fantastic country, as we pack our bags for a 5:45am taxi to the airport tomorrow morning …
• The Italians who have charmed us along the way – the Bangla Deshi restaurateur in Venice, with his free lemoncellos; our tourguides Maria and her Dad Rafaelle in Sorrento, and not forgetting our landlady, the lady in the bulk wine shop and the family who ran our favourite Sorrento restaurant; Giovanni in our favourite Rome restaurant near the Pantheon, Daniella (a guy) at our Rome hotel who was a musician and envied us living in Australia, and many more. Italians seem constantly happy, and it’s infectious.
• Italian buildings are either old, very old, or ancient (ie, 500 years, 1000 years, or 2000 years old). No building is over 6 stories high, so there are no skyscrapers. Even if there is something built in the past 50 years, it is more than likely sitting next to a wall constructed 2,000 years ago. These city landscapes really are a blend of ancient and recent.
• The Indian/Pakistani street merchants who were selling anything under the sun, and oh so annoying in the process, but the ones selling cold water bottles were most welcome at times.
• Speaking of water, throughout all Italian cities, we found water fountains dispensing running water. However, these were running constantly, and you could fill up your water bottle with fresh drinking water. In Australia, this would be considered criminal, as water is so precious to us. To see so many taps running constantly down the drain was so strange indeed.
• Italian traffic was as we had been told – chaotic, with no rules. Pedestrians crossing the road take their lives into their own hands. Commuting is predominately by scooter, which outnumbers cars two to one, and motorbikes ten to one. Ridden by young teenagers to little old ladies and businessmen in suits.
• The Italian economy must run on tourism, as foreigners seem to outnumber locals at this time of year. How easy is it to pick the Australian accent? We were told that crowds to the Vatican have tripled since the election of the new Pope, with Papa Francesca proving to be an economic goldmine for Vatican tourism.
We bid farewell to Italy with some wonderful memories, knowing that the county’s ancient heritage is in good hands (we saw many archaeologists working at Ancient Rome), and maybe we feel a little closer to our Australian-Italian friends, now that we’ve experienced where they’ve come from.
Canada ... here we come.
Monday, 23 June 2014
Rome, Italy
The next day we headed for the Vatican City, pre-armed with “skip-the-line” tickets to the Vatican Museum, Sistine Chapel and St Peter’s Basilica. Approaching the entrance at 9:30am, we walked past hundreds of people waiting in line, in the hot sun, and they would be waiting for many more hours. Once we’d joined our group, entered the museum, passed through security, and donned our earplugs for the commentary, we were set. As we came to the first corridor and exhibition room, we found ourselves being herded like sheep in a stock pen. Shoulder to shoulder, treading on the heels of the person in front, while our heels were being trodden on by the person behind. Every square inch of floorspace was taken up by people, and you had no choice but to shuffle along with the masses. Bad luck if you wanted to stop and admire a piece of artwork from 500 years ago, because the surging throng was relentless.
The Sistine Chapel was fantastic because of Michelangelo’s paintings on the ceilings and walls. You are drilled that you must be quiet, and not photographs. As I walked through the entrance , a guy was indignant when a guard’s hand came over the lens of his camera as he was taking a photograph. Some people just never listen. As I was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the masses, a booming voice came over a public address system saying “Silence!”, seemingly breaking the very rule that the voice was trying to enforce. The Sistine Chapel was very strange indeed.
St Peter’s Basilica was everything it was touted to be – huge, symbolic, awe-inspiring, spectacular. Being so large, it was difficult to be swallowed up in the thousands of people, but with so much detail and history in every square inch of the place, it was impossible to take it all in for the 30 minutes we were there.
Afterwards, we hopped on the tourist bus for another circuit of the city, but this time including the portion that was denied to us yesterday because of the Rolling Stones concert at Circo Massimo. As we drove past the concert site from the night before, we watched as the crews were busily dismantling the stage. A large crane was being used to hoist lighting towers to ground level, and we could see the large expanse of ground that would’ve held 65,000 people the night before. The original oval shape of the stadium was still evident, where chariot races were held as early as 4th century BC. A strange connection – Roman entertainment aligned with modern rock music 2,000 years later. I wonder if Mick Jagger ever stopped to make the connection. And I wonder who drew the larger crowd on that Sunday – Papa Franceso in St Peter’s Square or the Rolling Stones in Circo Massimo.
The Sistine Chapel was fantastic because of Michelangelo’s paintings on the ceilings and walls. You are drilled that you must be quiet, and not photographs. As I walked through the entrance , a guy was indignant when a guard’s hand came over the lens of his camera as he was taking a photograph. Some people just never listen. As I was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with the masses, a booming voice came over a public address system saying “Silence!”, seemingly breaking the very rule that the voice was trying to enforce. The Sistine Chapel was very strange indeed.
St Peter’s Basilica was everything it was touted to be – huge, symbolic, awe-inspiring, spectacular. Being so large, it was difficult to be swallowed up in the thousands of people, but with so much detail and history in every square inch of the place, it was impossible to take it all in for the 30 minutes we were there.
Afterwards, we hopped on the tourist bus for another circuit of the city, but this time including the portion that was denied to us yesterday because of the Rolling Stones concert at Circo Massimo. As we drove past the concert site from the night before, we watched as the crews were busily dismantling the stage. A large crane was being used to hoist lighting towers to ground level, and we could see the large expanse of ground that would’ve held 65,000 people the night before. The original oval shape of the stadium was still evident, where chariot races were held as early as 4th century BC. A strange connection – Roman entertainment aligned with modern rock music 2,000 years later. I wonder if Mick Jagger ever stopped to make the connection. And I wonder who drew the larger crowd on that Sunday – Papa Franceso in St Peter’s Square or the Rolling Stones in Circo Massimo.
Saturday, 21 June 2014
Rome, Italy
Our day started in Sorrento, and finished in Rome. Only one hour by train (although that train was travelling at 300 kph), we arrived at Roma Termini to heat and crowds. Before catching a taxi to our hotel, I sought out a tourist hop-on, hop-off bus to get a 3-day ticket to help us get around. The guy told me that the bus may be hindered by crowds tomorrow afternoon, specifically 65,000 people would be attending a concert by the Rolling Stones in the south of the city at Circo Maximo. Allison was incredulous – if only we’d known, maybe we could’ve got tickets. Knowing the Stones, probably not.
Our hotel was in the middle of Rome, near the Pantheon and Piazza Navona, so after checking in, we wandered not far, to get a feel for the city. Our street was narrow, quiet, almost deserted. A block away, we came across a large open space, Piazza Navona, with fountains, restaurants and tourist shops, and thousands of tourists. Ah, so this is Rome, more non-Italians than locals. We soon left the Square and its bustling visitor trade, and went the block back to our hotel and had our first Roman meal at a sidewalk restaurant with hardly anyone around.
The next day we explored in earnest, courtesy of the hop-on, hop-off bus. On leaving our hotel, we turned the first corner to see a large round building at the end of the street. Walking around the front of this building made us stop and stare. Not two minutes walk from our hotel was the Pantheon, rivalling the Colosseum as Rome’s greatest building. Unlike the Colosseum, this extraordinary construction remains completely intact after 2000 years. We walked under its triangular entrance held up by 16 huge columns, each carved out of a single block of stone, and we entered a space that seemed to take us to somewhere else. As you enter, you are compelled to look up, and I watched people do the same thing we did, as they enter. Towering above us is the largest unreinforced concrete dome ever built, and at the top is a round hole 8 metres across, an opening to the elements. Directly beneath are holes in the multi-coloured marble floor to take away rainwater. Roman ingenuity from twenty centuries ago is bewildering, particularly when you are still able to step inside and marvel as if it we constructed a year ago.
The bus circuit took two hours to take us around the city, at all the major sites except for the Colosseum and Roman Forum, thanks to Mick and Keith’s rock band playing that night. We saw tens of thousands of people at the Vatican, who had just heard the Pope’s Sunday morning address. As the bus approached the Roma Termini, we noticed a flurry of activity around a five-story hotel called Le Hotel Grande. A milling crowd, a dozen very shiny and very black limousines, and official looking men in suits with lanyards around their necks. Being suspicious of what might be the cause, we got off the bus and investigated. Judging by the t-shirts being worn by the throngs, and the logo on the suit’s lanyards, our suspicions were proved correct - this was where the Rolling Stones were staying before their Rome concert that night.
Although it was highly unlikely that we would catch a glimpse of the most famous rock band in the world, we hung around for an hour, just to soak up the atmosphere. Hilariously, whenever a resident of the hotel looked out of their window, the crowd assumed the presence rock idols and started yelling and calling. Of course, each time was a false alarm, although I’m sure that I saw the haggard face of Ron Wood appear at a top floor window for one second, not enough time for me to snap a photo.
At one point I was approached by a middle-aged man dressed in a pink shirt and trendy shorts. “You want a ticket for the concert tonight?” he asked me. Taken aback and gathering my thoughts, I enquired further. The spare ticket was his wife’s, who had decided to go to Madrid instead. He was asking 150 Euros, pledged that he was legitimate, and showed me a voucher from his hotel with the concert details. Allison and I discussed, and decided to turn it down. The guy did not have an actual ticket, and we’d have to get to the venue, and back again after the concert. The clincher was that Allison will see The Stones in Melbourne in November. We left after an hour outside the hotel, and the guy was still trying to hawk his ticket.
Our hotel was in the middle of Rome, near the Pantheon and Piazza Navona, so after checking in, we wandered not far, to get a feel for the city. Our street was narrow, quiet, almost deserted. A block away, we came across a large open space, Piazza Navona, with fountains, restaurants and tourist shops, and thousands of tourists. Ah, so this is Rome, more non-Italians than locals. We soon left the Square and its bustling visitor trade, and went the block back to our hotel and had our first Roman meal at a sidewalk restaurant with hardly anyone around.
The next day we explored in earnest, courtesy of the hop-on, hop-off bus. On leaving our hotel, we turned the first corner to see a large round building at the end of the street. Walking around the front of this building made us stop and stare. Not two minutes walk from our hotel was the Pantheon, rivalling the Colosseum as Rome’s greatest building. Unlike the Colosseum, this extraordinary construction remains completely intact after 2000 years. We walked under its triangular entrance held up by 16 huge columns, each carved out of a single block of stone, and we entered a space that seemed to take us to somewhere else. As you enter, you are compelled to look up, and I watched people do the same thing we did, as they enter. Towering above us is the largest unreinforced concrete dome ever built, and at the top is a round hole 8 metres across, an opening to the elements. Directly beneath are holes in the multi-coloured marble floor to take away rainwater. Roman ingenuity from twenty centuries ago is bewildering, particularly when you are still able to step inside and marvel as if it we constructed a year ago.
The bus circuit took two hours to take us around the city, at all the major sites except for the Colosseum and Roman Forum, thanks to Mick and Keith’s rock band playing that night. We saw tens of thousands of people at the Vatican, who had just heard the Pope’s Sunday morning address. As the bus approached the Roma Termini, we noticed a flurry of activity around a five-story hotel called Le Hotel Grande. A milling crowd, a dozen very shiny and very black limousines, and official looking men in suits with lanyards around their necks. Being suspicious of what might be the cause, we got off the bus and investigated. Judging by the t-shirts being worn by the throngs, and the logo on the suit’s lanyards, our suspicions were proved correct - this was where the Rolling Stones were staying before their Rome concert that night.
Although it was highly unlikely that we would catch a glimpse of the most famous rock band in the world, we hung around for an hour, just to soak up the atmosphere. Hilariously, whenever a resident of the hotel looked out of their window, the crowd assumed the presence rock idols and started yelling and calling. Of course, each time was a false alarm, although I’m sure that I saw the haggard face of Ron Wood appear at a top floor window for one second, not enough time for me to snap a photo.
At one point I was approached by a middle-aged man dressed in a pink shirt and trendy shorts. “You want a ticket for the concert tonight?” he asked me. Taken aback and gathering my thoughts, I enquired further. The spare ticket was his wife’s, who had decided to go to Madrid instead. He was asking 150 Euros, pledged that he was legitimate, and showed me a voucher from his hotel with the concert details. Allison and I discussed, and decided to turn it down. The guy did not have an actual ticket, and we’d have to get to the venue, and back again after the concert. The clincher was that Allison will see The Stones in Melbourne in November. We left after an hour outside the hotel, and the guy was still trying to hawk his ticket.
Friday, 20 June 2014
Sorrento, Italy
Exploring Sorrento was most pleasurable indeed. Nowhere near the rat-race of Florence, this town has the vibe of being a tourist destination, going by the number of people on the streets, all speaking a myriad of different languages. It seems that tourists outnumber locals two to one, but the atmosphere is one of fun, relaxation, and sunshine. Being right on the coast, as well as high atop a cliff, Sorrento’s location provides an unforgettable view over the Bay of Naples. From the edge of that cliff, just a block away from the town center, we could look down over people swimming in the bay, or lounging on deckchairs, or heading out in boats of every size, shape and colour. On both sides along the coast are hotels built into the side of the cliff, with every vantage point being exploited for the view.
Following further advice from Giovanna, our landlady, we hired another local tour guide for a day on the Isle of Capri. What good advice it was, for we explored Capri much more thoroughly in six hours than we could have ever done on our own. Our guide was a delightful young lady called Maria, and we soon learned that she was the daughter of Rafaelle, our guide for Pompeii. The day started with the 25 minute ferry ride from Sorrento to Marina Grande on Capri, followed by a two-hour circumnavigation of the island by boat. The only disappointment was that the Blue Grotto was closed, and seeing the entrance from our boat convinced us that it was the right call. The tide and rough surf made the entrance to this cave vary from a metre above to a metre below the surface every few seconds. There was no way a small boat could enter this subterranean cave, so we would have to miss out on its apparently brilliant blue light show.
The views for rest of the boat trip were stunning. Sheer white limestone cliffs rising out of a sea coloured incredibly blue, with dwellings perched high atop, greeted us at every turn of the coast. The guide pointed out homes or hotels where famous people live or used to live – Sophia Loren, Georgio Armani, Mussolini, Jackie Kennedy Onassis. After the boat was a taxi ride from the harbour to Anacapri, taking us up the steep side of a mountain through narrow streets and hairpin bends. The higher we went, the more spectacular the view out over Marina Grande and the Bay of Naples. I think the word is breathtaking. From Anacapri, we took a chairlift to the very top of the island, with a 360 degree panorama of the Sorrento peninsula, Naples and Mt Vesuvius, and the islands of the Bay of Naples. Being afraid of heights, Allison opted to explore Anacapri and rely on our photos. Another taxi ride to the township of Capri, where we explored shops, hotels and restaurants so outlandishly expensive that it made us feel completely out of our depth. Do people really pay these prices? Maria showed us Augustus’ Gardens, supposedly set up by the Roman Emperor to use the amazing views from the cliff tops, which still exist today.
Throughout our entire time in Sorrento, I have the feeling that I’m being watched, for almost every view in the area has a common element. Like some deity looking over its subjects, an omnipresent mountain towers over the Bay of Naples like a menacing omen. Mt Vesuvius can only be described as imposing, as it rises out of the scenery like a dark cloud on the horizon, and it seems to appear in every photo I take. Its menace arises from the fact that it is hundreds of years overdue for a major eruption, and the view from Sorrento shows a mass of civilisation living at its feet. If it ever does decide to mimic 79AD, it would be catastrophic for the people of Naples and Sorrento Peninsula. I can only assume that to live here means that you cannot worry about it, otherwise your life would be in eternal anxiety.
Following further advice from Giovanna, our landlady, we hired another local tour guide for a day on the Isle of Capri. What good advice it was, for we explored Capri much more thoroughly in six hours than we could have ever done on our own. Our guide was a delightful young lady called Maria, and we soon learned that she was the daughter of Rafaelle, our guide for Pompeii. The day started with the 25 minute ferry ride from Sorrento to Marina Grande on Capri, followed by a two-hour circumnavigation of the island by boat. The only disappointment was that the Blue Grotto was closed, and seeing the entrance from our boat convinced us that it was the right call. The tide and rough surf made the entrance to this cave vary from a metre above to a metre below the surface every few seconds. There was no way a small boat could enter this subterranean cave, so we would have to miss out on its apparently brilliant blue light show.
The views for rest of the boat trip were stunning. Sheer white limestone cliffs rising out of a sea coloured incredibly blue, with dwellings perched high atop, greeted us at every turn of the coast. The guide pointed out homes or hotels where famous people live or used to live – Sophia Loren, Georgio Armani, Mussolini, Jackie Kennedy Onassis. After the boat was a taxi ride from the harbour to Anacapri, taking us up the steep side of a mountain through narrow streets and hairpin bends. The higher we went, the more spectacular the view out over Marina Grande and the Bay of Naples. I think the word is breathtaking. From Anacapri, we took a chairlift to the very top of the island, with a 360 degree panorama of the Sorrento peninsula, Naples and Mt Vesuvius, and the islands of the Bay of Naples. Being afraid of heights, Allison opted to explore Anacapri and rely on our photos. Another taxi ride to the township of Capri, where we explored shops, hotels and restaurants so outlandishly expensive that it made us feel completely out of our depth. Do people really pay these prices? Maria showed us Augustus’ Gardens, supposedly set up by the Roman Emperor to use the amazing views from the cliff tops, which still exist today.
Throughout our entire time in Sorrento, I have the feeling that I’m being watched, for almost every view in the area has a common element. Like some deity looking over its subjects, an omnipresent mountain towers over the Bay of Naples like a menacing omen. Mt Vesuvius can only be described as imposing, as it rises out of the scenery like a dark cloud on the horizon, and it seems to appear in every photo I take. Its menace arises from the fact that it is hundreds of years overdue for a major eruption, and the view from Sorrento shows a mass of civilisation living at its feet. If it ever does decide to mimic 79AD, it would be catastrophic for the people of Naples and Sorrento Peninsula. I can only assume that to live here means that you cannot worry about it, otherwise your life would be in eternal anxiety.
Wednesday, 18 June 2014
Sorrento, Italy
The next day we entered our own Time Machine, and crossed off one of the reasons we had come to Sorrento in the first place – Pompeii. With advice from our helpful landlady, we hired our own personal guide called Rafaelle, and headed to the archaeological site early to beat the crowds. When we walked through the entrance gate at 9am, dark black clouds were hanging overhead, the smell of rain was in the air and it seemed as if we had the entire site to ourselves. We could see why an early start was so important.
Not long into the tour, it started to rain, and Rafaelle ducked us into someone’s house. Of course they weren’t home, as they had vacated their home on the morning of 24th August in 79AD, when the nearby volcano erupted and destroyed their city by burying it under 6 metres of ash. The weight of that settling ash caused every roof in the city to collapse, but fortunately this house had recently had its roof restored, providing us with shelter for the storm. The timing of the lightning and thunder were almost instantaneous, so the storm must have been directly overhead. The lightning show was spectacular, the thunder deafening. It was a surreal moment, stuck in someone’s home from two thousand years ago, watching nature’s most spectacular show of force.
We walked through the remains of homes, shops, baths, council chambers, even a brothel, with paintings of what services they had to offer. By midday our tour guide had completed his contract, and he left us to continue exploring this fascinating place on our own. Unfortunately by this time the crowds were here in force, seemingly the same ten thousand people who we had encountered at Florence’s David, and Pisa’s Tower. I think I recognised every one of them – Allison says they must be following us.
I still had to visit one last Pompeii attraction to satisfy the aging hippie in me. The amphitheatre in Pompeii is a large oval-shaped arena, completely empty and surrounded by stone seating . Back in October 1971, this was the venue for a unique rock concert, when Pink Floyd played live for no-one other than a bunch of sound and camera men . The concert was filmed and released as “Pink Floyd: Live at Pompeii”, and it became quite legendary as a snapshot of the famous band before “Dark Side of the Moon” was released in 1973. I felt a connection with history from 40 years ago and 2000 years ago.
Not long into the tour, it started to rain, and Rafaelle ducked us into someone’s house. Of course they weren’t home, as they had vacated their home on the morning of 24th August in 79AD, when the nearby volcano erupted and destroyed their city by burying it under 6 metres of ash. The weight of that settling ash caused every roof in the city to collapse, but fortunately this house had recently had its roof restored, providing us with shelter for the storm. The timing of the lightning and thunder were almost instantaneous, so the storm must have been directly overhead. The lightning show was spectacular, the thunder deafening. It was a surreal moment, stuck in someone’s home from two thousand years ago, watching nature’s most spectacular show of force.
We walked through the remains of homes, shops, baths, council chambers, even a brothel, with paintings of what services they had to offer. By midday our tour guide had completed his contract, and he left us to continue exploring this fascinating place on our own. Unfortunately by this time the crowds were here in force, seemingly the same ten thousand people who we had encountered at Florence’s David, and Pisa’s Tower. I think I recognised every one of them – Allison says they must be following us.
I still had to visit one last Pompeii attraction to satisfy the aging hippie in me. The amphitheatre in Pompeii is a large oval-shaped arena, completely empty and surrounded by stone seating . Back in October 1971, this was the venue for a unique rock concert, when Pink Floyd played live for no-one other than a bunch of sound and camera men . The concert was filmed and released as “Pink Floyd: Live at Pompeii”, and it became quite legendary as a snapshot of the famous band before “Dark Side of the Moon” was released in 1973. I felt a connection with history from 40 years ago and 2000 years ago.
Tuesday, 17 June 2014
Sorrento, Italy
We departed Florence, and took a three-hour train journey further south to Sorrento, via Rome and Naples. We travelled at 250 kph through farmland, mostly small plots with a small farmhouse of white walls and a red terracotta roof. The landscape was dotted with small hills poking out of flat fields, and it seemed that every hill was topped with a steeple of some kind, as if the most important building in the village must always have the most prominent position. We passed several industrial areas of factories, and then wineries and olive groves.
The Tuscan hills soon gave way to much higher mountains, dotted with stone buildings and medieval churches. Some were perched precariously on a cliff edge and were in ruins, having succumbed to the encroaching undergrowth. Several small villages were surrounded by a stone wall, with an entrance indicated by a gate with a tower on either side. The mountains were so high that it was easier for the train to go through them than over them, and we seemed to be underground for much of the journey. As soon as we arrived in Naples we transferred to a regional train bound for Sorrento. The confusion of where to find this connecting train was solved by following a young Queensland couple who were also heading to Sorrento for their honeymoon. Emerging from a tunnel, we had our first view of a scene that would stay with us for the next four days – the sprawling Bay of Naples, with high-rise apartments along its shoreline, and the huge, dark, conical-shaped Mt Vesuvius rising out of this fantastic view.
The Tuscan hills soon gave way to much higher mountains, dotted with stone buildings and medieval churches. Some were perched precariously on a cliff edge and were in ruins, having succumbed to the encroaching undergrowth. Several small villages were surrounded by a stone wall, with an entrance indicated by a gate with a tower on either side. The mountains were so high that it was easier for the train to go through them than over them, and we seemed to be underground for much of the journey. As soon as we arrived in Naples we transferred to a regional train bound for Sorrento. The confusion of where to find this connecting train was solved by following a young Queensland couple who were also heading to Sorrento for their honeymoon. Emerging from a tunnel, we had our first view of a scene that would stay with us for the next four days – the sprawling Bay of Naples, with high-rise apartments along its shoreline, and the huge, dark, conical-shaped Mt Vesuvius rising out of this fantastic view.
Monday, 16 June 2014
Florence, Italy
Our last day in Tuscany saw us getting brave. Maybe we had grown some confidence in tackling the Trenitalia regional train system, and so we bought return tickets to get us to Pisa with a possible stopover in Lucca, if we had read the timetable correctly.
There is an Italian law on trains that says you must validate your ticket after purchase but before boarding, on fear of death or a 40 euro fine. This particular morning , all of the validation machines at the Prato train station were not working, so we had to board the train and seek out a conductor to alert him to the problem (according to the blurb on the back of the ticket). When we found a conductor (or rather, he found us), he tried to fine us for not validating our tickets! The language barrier ensured the conversation (not an argument – I tried to keep my cool) continued for a few minutes. Finally he relented, wrote something on our tickets, handed them back, and progressed to hassle the next passenger. I saw a credit card transaction happening there.
Lucca was beautiful. Like so many small towns we’d already seen, the centre of Lucca was also surrounded by a high wall built in 16th century, and contained an impressive multi-coloured marble cathedral. Many large trees provided tranquil shade, and people went about their business on bikes or walking, some with a small dog on a leash. What made this place even more appealing was the total lack of tourist throngs.
On to Pisa, and with map in hand we left the train station and walked south, through narrow cobblestone streets and laneways, eventually reaching the mighty Arno River, the same one that flows through Florence but here it is closer to the sea. More narrow laneways, with street dining at restaurants and gelato shops. Reaching the corner at the end of one such laneway, we were greeted by an amazing sight. A tall, white marble tower jumped out in front of us, surprising us with its imposing presence and its familiarity. I’m sure the immediate thought process is the same for everyone when they first see the Leaning Tower of Pisa. This large stone structure is surely in the process of toppling over. It is remarkable that it is still standing after 900 years. There are not many buildings in the world that can announce themselves like this one can.
On the way home, we had to get to Prato via Florence, and I did a silly thing. Spooked by our encounter with the conductor and our non-validated tickets that morning, I validated in Pisa and also in Florence. And of course, we encountered a conductor on the way to Prato. And of course, I was unceremoniously accused of cheating the system because we were in possession of twice-validated tickets. I was beginning to feel paranoid. If only these guys spoke a little English so I could explain! We made it to Prato unscathed, and treated ourselves to an award-winning gelato, made by a guy who had gone a Gelato University to learn his craft. He proudly displayed his graduation certificate in his shop.
There is an Italian law on trains that says you must validate your ticket after purchase but before boarding, on fear of death or a 40 euro fine. This particular morning , all of the validation machines at the Prato train station were not working, so we had to board the train and seek out a conductor to alert him to the problem (according to the blurb on the back of the ticket). When we found a conductor (or rather, he found us), he tried to fine us for not validating our tickets! The language barrier ensured the conversation (not an argument – I tried to keep my cool) continued for a few minutes. Finally he relented, wrote something on our tickets, handed them back, and progressed to hassle the next passenger. I saw a credit card transaction happening there.
Lucca was beautiful. Like so many small towns we’d already seen, the centre of Lucca was also surrounded by a high wall built in 16th century, and contained an impressive multi-coloured marble cathedral. Many large trees provided tranquil shade, and people went about their business on bikes or walking, some with a small dog on a leash. What made this place even more appealing was the total lack of tourist throngs.
On to Pisa, and with map in hand we left the train station and walked south, through narrow cobblestone streets and laneways, eventually reaching the mighty Arno River, the same one that flows through Florence but here it is closer to the sea. More narrow laneways, with street dining at restaurants and gelato shops. Reaching the corner at the end of one such laneway, we were greeted by an amazing sight. A tall, white marble tower jumped out in front of us, surprising us with its imposing presence and its familiarity. I’m sure the immediate thought process is the same for everyone when they first see the Leaning Tower of Pisa. This large stone structure is surely in the process of toppling over. It is remarkable that it is still standing after 900 years. There are not many buildings in the world that can announce themselves like this one can.
On the way home, we had to get to Prato via Florence, and I did a silly thing. Spooked by our encounter with the conductor and our non-validated tickets that morning, I validated in Pisa and also in Florence. And of course, we encountered a conductor on the way to Prato. And of course, I was unceremoniously accused of cheating the system because we were in possession of twice-validated tickets. I was beginning to feel paranoid. If only these guys spoke a little English so I could explain! We made it to Prato unscathed, and treated ourselves to an award-winning gelato, made by a guy who had gone a Gelato University to learn his craft. He proudly displayed his graduation certificate in his shop.
Friday, 13 June 2014
Venice, Italy
A taxi ride to the train station in Venice must be unique in the world. Our 10am reserved taxi arrived right on time, but there was nowhere to park. The one available space was being taken up with a barge delivering boxes to a local restaurant. The remedy appeared to be commonplace in Venice – the taxi simply moored beside the barge and we embarked by walking across its deck, amidst boxes of wine, beer and bottled water. The taxi “driver” helped us with our suitcases, and we were soon on our way.
The shortest route took us through several narrow canals before reaching the Grand Canal, and one last look at the Rialto Bridge – a perfect way to bid farewell to this fabulous city. The journey to the Rialto was slow, as these narrow canals were being used by gondolas, taxis, garbage collectors, delivery barges, and police. It was inevitable that these boatmen would exchange idle chatter as they pass by, but it seems that every conversation ended in laughter. That’s the one thing I’ve found about Italians – they always seem so happy. They didn’t get frustrated being stuck in a traffic jam (or should that be “boat jam”). Whatever they were saying in Italian, they made each other laugh, and it was lovely to hear. The hearty conversations were infectious, and made us feel good too, even though we had no idea what they were saying.
The shortest route took us through several narrow canals before reaching the Grand Canal, and one last look at the Rialto Bridge – a perfect way to bid farewell to this fabulous city. The journey to the Rialto was slow, as these narrow canals were being used by gondolas, taxis, garbage collectors, delivery barges, and police. It was inevitable that these boatmen would exchange idle chatter as they pass by, but it seems that every conversation ended in laughter. That’s the one thing I’ve found about Italians – they always seem so happy. They didn’t get frustrated being stuck in a traffic jam (or should that be “boat jam”). Whatever they were saying in Italian, they made each other laugh, and it was lovely to hear. The hearty conversations were infectious, and made us feel good too, even though we had no idea what they were saying.
Thursday, 12 June 2014
Venice, Italy
This was our last morning in Venice after four glorious days, weather-wise and experience-wise. We said goodbye to Alice and Matt after lunch, as they caught a water bus to the airport to fly back to Vienna. We had to find our own way on the Italian streets for the first time.
And I failed miserably.
We decided to venture to the Hard Rock Café for our last meal in Venice. We had already visited one just off San Marco’s Square, but the tourist brochures stated that there were two Hard Rock Cafes in Venice, the other one being right next to the Rialto Bridge. So we headed to Rialto.
Any map of a medieval European city shows streets that are hardly symmetrical. They wander in all directions, with some tiny laneways hardly wide enough for one person. My interpretation of the map of Venice must have been flawed from the start, because we ended up emerging from a narrow laneway to be confronted with a large expanse of water. I had somehow lead us east to the coast, instead west to the Grand Canal. After seeking help from some locals, we eventually ended up at the Rialto Bridge, and entered the Hard Rock Café eager for a thirst-quenching beer and a meal to replace the calories burnt getting there.
The plan came crashing down when we were told that this Hard Rock establishment was only a shop for merchandise, and not a restaurant after all. I was devastated, embarrassed, and wasting away to a shadow without food. Determined, we ventured further into the heart of Venice to the Hard Rock Café that could actually provide us with all-elusive final Venetian meal. There is no doubt that my wife and sister never let me live this episode down.
A surreal moment ended a big day when we shared a bottle of vino rosso (red wine) at the Hard Rock bar after our meal, and watched the opening of the World Cup in Brazil, live on a big screen. Sitting at the table next to us was a young couple, and the guy was wearing a yellow and green t-shirt. I made a correct assumption, not that he was Australian but he was actually Brazilian, in Italy on holiday with his girlfriend. We discussed how the Brazil and Australia colours were so similar, and how he was hopeful of his national team doing well, while my hopes were for my team to at least score.
And I failed miserably.
We decided to venture to the Hard Rock Café for our last meal in Venice. We had already visited one just off San Marco’s Square, but the tourist brochures stated that there were two Hard Rock Cafes in Venice, the other one being right next to the Rialto Bridge. So we headed to Rialto.
Any map of a medieval European city shows streets that are hardly symmetrical. They wander in all directions, with some tiny laneways hardly wide enough for one person. My interpretation of the map of Venice must have been flawed from the start, because we ended up emerging from a narrow laneway to be confronted with a large expanse of water. I had somehow lead us east to the coast, instead west to the Grand Canal. After seeking help from some locals, we eventually ended up at the Rialto Bridge, and entered the Hard Rock Café eager for a thirst-quenching beer and a meal to replace the calories burnt getting there.
The plan came crashing down when we were told that this Hard Rock establishment was only a shop for merchandise, and not a restaurant after all. I was devastated, embarrassed, and wasting away to a shadow without food. Determined, we ventured further into the heart of Venice to the Hard Rock Café that could actually provide us with all-elusive final Venetian meal. There is no doubt that my wife and sister never let me live this episode down.
A surreal moment ended a big day when we shared a bottle of vino rosso (red wine) at the Hard Rock bar after our meal, and watched the opening of the World Cup in Brazil, live on a big screen. Sitting at the table next to us was a young couple, and the guy was wearing a yellow and green t-shirt. I made a correct assumption, not that he was Australian but he was actually Brazilian, in Italy on holiday with his girlfriend. We discussed how the Brazil and Australia colours were so similar, and how he was hopeful of his national team doing well, while my hopes were for my team to at least score.
Wednesday, 11 June 2014
Venice, Italy
As we wandered the streets of Venice, we were joined by other tourists in their thousands, many in groups lead by a tour guide carrying a flag so they could be easily followed amongst the throngs. Alice told us that this wasn’t busy season yet. One could only imagine how CRAZY it would be in July and August when it is the peak tourist season. Of course we cannot complain, as we are adding to the tourist hoards by another three. It takes some special consideration to look beyond the crowds and concentrate on what they’d all come to see – a large slice of European history.
Visiting Venice for the first time, I see why its elaborate network of waterways makes it is so unique. These canals are the city’s roads, which mean that there is a total absence of anything motorised on wheels. The whole city infrastructure is based on boats, from shop and construction deliveries, to buses and taxis, to police, ambulance, garbage collection, even funeral hearses. We saw examples of all of these.
After hours of walking, we found that we had traversed the city from south to north, from San Marco’s Square to Piazza Roma, and the consensus was that we’d all pitch in for a taxi back to our starting point. The majority of the journey took us down the Grand Canal, and the experience was worth it just to see Venice from a viewpoint not often seen. Going under the marble arch of the Rialto Bridge made us realise just what a feat of engineering this must have been in 1592.
Visiting Venice for the first time, I see why its elaborate network of waterways makes it is so unique. These canals are the city’s roads, which mean that there is a total absence of anything motorised on wheels. The whole city infrastructure is based on boats, from shop and construction deliveries, to buses and taxis, to police, ambulance, garbage collection, even funeral hearses. We saw examples of all of these.
After hours of walking, we found that we had traversed the city from south to north, from San Marco’s Square to Piazza Roma, and the consensus was that we’d all pitch in for a taxi back to our starting point. The majority of the journey took us down the Grand Canal, and the experience was worth it just to see Venice from a viewpoint not often seen. Going under the marble arch of the Rialto Bridge made us realise just what a feat of engineering this must have been in 1592.
Tuesday, 10 June 2014
Venice, Italy
It was such a long haul, four countries in 36 hours. It was the final one of four flights that created the most excitement. After all, it was still dark for the early morning short hop from Launceston to Melbourne, and the nine hours from Melbourne to Hong Kong had us stuck in the middle of the seating, with no access to a window. The twelve hours from Honkers to Munich was night time all the way, as we chased the sunrise rolling across the planet. The one hour from Munich to Venice, however, delivered an unforgettable view of the Alps, courtesy of a window seat and a cloudless sky. The flat, green farmland of southern Germany soon gave way to angry-looking mountains with rocky outcrops poking through white snowfields. With the sun just peeking above the eastern horizon, the low light gave the rugged mountain ranges a spectacular relief, accentuating the steep slopes and darkening the deep valleys. Then the sight of Venice directly below us as we approached our final destination airport was such a welcoming a sight.
We walked off the plane and into Italy unhindered, as we had passed through Customs and Immigration in Munich. Taking a water bus from the airport into the middle of Venice was just like taking Melbourne’s Skybus, and the Venetian skyline greeted us as we drew closer. We got off at the stop that our friend Alice had emailled me about, and as we alighted there was Alice and Matt to meet us.
There were big hugs for everyone from Alice, and firm handshakes from Matt, which was a little strange as this was only the second time we’ve ever met Alice, and the first time for Matt. We had previously met Alice in 2009 on a Danube boat cruise in Vienna before our Turkey trip, and we kept in touch on Facebook after that fortuitist meeting. When she heard that we were coming to Venice, only an hour’s flight from Vienna, she took a few days holiday to meet us. Matt was her new man in her life, and he was as lovely and warm as Alice, both middle-aged Austrians with good English and a sense of adventure. We stayed in the same hotel as they did, a basic place with comfy beds and delicious breakfasts, and right in the middle of Venice. We were prepared to sacrifice luxury for location.
It was still only 10am, too early to book into the hotel, so we went for a coffee and short walk before midday check-in. It was hot, 30 degrees under a blazing sun. It was a nice, gentle introduction to Italy for three exhausted and travel-weary Aussies. The adrenaline kicked in and, after an afternoon nap, we spent the rest of the day exploring before finally succumbing to fatigue that evening.
We walked off the plane and into Italy unhindered, as we had passed through Customs and Immigration in Munich. Taking a water bus from the airport into the middle of Venice was just like taking Melbourne’s Skybus, and the Venetian skyline greeted us as we drew closer. We got off at the stop that our friend Alice had emailled me about, and as we alighted there was Alice and Matt to meet us.
There were big hugs for everyone from Alice, and firm handshakes from Matt, which was a little strange as this was only the second time we’ve ever met Alice, and the first time for Matt. We had previously met Alice in 2009 on a Danube boat cruise in Vienna before our Turkey trip, and we kept in touch on Facebook after that fortuitist meeting. When she heard that we were coming to Venice, only an hour’s flight from Vienna, she took a few days holiday to meet us. Matt was her new man in her life, and he was as lovely and warm as Alice, both middle-aged Austrians with good English and a sense of adventure. We stayed in the same hotel as they did, a basic place with comfy beds and delicious breakfasts, and right in the middle of Venice. We were prepared to sacrifice luxury for location.
It was still only 10am, too early to book into the hotel, so we went for a coffee and short walk before midday check-in. It was hot, 30 degrees under a blazing sun. It was a nice, gentle introduction to Italy for three exhausted and travel-weary Aussies. The adrenaline kicked in and, after an afternoon nap, we spent the rest of the day exploring before finally succumbing to fatigue that evening.
Thursday, 5 June 2014
Launceston, Tasmania
Time seems to drag in this final week leading up to our next overseas holiday. There are plenty of jobs to be done - at work ensuring things are in place for my absence, and at home so that everything is right for our housesitters.
The excitement is tangible. In a few days we will fly to Melbourne, but instead of catching a Skybus into the city, we will head nextdoor to the International terminal, walk through a door and effectively leave Australia. The next day we will be in Venice, experiencing summer, a foreign language and a brand new city to explore, the start of a journey that's been a year in the planning. I find it incredible that we can be so far away from home and still be on the planet.
If I had a dollar for every time I've been told "no riding motorbikes", we could've paid for the trip all over again. Be assured - there will be no two-wheeled transport on this particular expedition.
The excitement is tangible. In a few days we will fly to Melbourne, but instead of catching a Skybus into the city, we will head nextdoor to the International terminal, walk through a door and effectively leave Australia. The next day we will be in Venice, experiencing summer, a foreign language and a brand new city to explore, the start of a journey that's been a year in the planning. I find it incredible that we can be so far away from home and still be on the planet.
If I had a dollar for every time I've been told "no riding motorbikes", we could've paid for the trip all over again. Be assured - there will be no two-wheeled transport on this particular expedition.
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