ciento volando

travel, stories, and other flights of fancy



Tuscany, 2011For many people (possibly most people), Italy is a dream destination. With picture perfect scenery and an abundance of art, fashion, passion and prosciutto – there’s no wondering why it’s the choice setting for so many glamorous films, romance novels, and once-in-a-lifetime holidays.

For those who are lucky enough to actually make it there and see the ‘real’ (or just plain touristic) Italy, the spectrum of reactions is always varied.

Italy was the first country I visited when I moved to Europe in 2011, and it didn’t fail to live up to my (very high) expectations. I actually burst into tears when I saw the Colosseum, such was my wonder and joy at the sudden realisation that I was actually there and living my dream, so to speak. I travelled around for over two weeks, and managed to see a number of cities plus some countryside too, you can read about my very enthusiastic first impressions here.

So when Mum proposed going to Italy this summer (it would be her first time), I absolutely jumped at the chance. Of all the countries I’d been to since I got to Europe, it’s where I’d most wanted to go back.

This time, however, my response was completely different. Of course I enjoyed the trip, but this was mostly because I was in good company, in holiday mode, and not working. The country itself left me feeling a bit underwhelmed, sometimes even disappointed.

There are a few reasons why this might be:

– No free tapas. Sigh. I always find this hard to deal with outside of Spain.
– I was reading Gomorrah, by Roberto Saviano. Whilst it’s great to match your holiday reading to your destination, I don’t recommend this book to anyone. Partly because it’s so depressing (everything in Italy, and the world, but especially Italy, is corrupt and fake and run by gangsters and ultimately doomed), and partly because it’s badly written and/or badly translated, and a struggle to read. I ended up giving up half way.
– Some parts of Italy seemed quite dirty. Ok, in comparison to Spain (where old ladies regularly mop the fronts of their houses), most places seem dirty. But I’ve been in third world countries where the filth bothered me less. Perhaps it’s because I saw the griminess as symbolic of complacency (the monuments are already there and tourists will come no matter what), a lack of pride (don’t they appreciate what they have?!), and a result of corruption (see Gomorrah above). Whatever the reason, it’s a shame.
– The restaurants. Last time I was travelling by myself and was generally happy to sit on park benches with 3 euro pizza slices and the tasty fresh produce I got from markets. This time Mum and I chose to eat at cafes, though still on a modest budget. As it turns out, we were really just paying for a place to sit down, with air conditioning and a toilet. The food itself was nothing spectacular, especially for a country that’s meant to be a gastronomic paradise… I love Italian cuisine in theory, but in practice, all the pizza and pasta got repetitive (literally), and the prosciutto, salami and olive oil seemed pretty flavourless. I guess the best Italian food must be found at home-cooked family dinners, or in the really expensive restaurants, or in countries other than Italy…
– Mosquitoes.
– The tourists. Yes, we were two of them. Bloody tourists.
– Being there a second time. There are many advantages to this, such as knowing how the train system works, or being able to orientate oneself. However, I don’t know the country (or the language) well enough to be totally at home in Italy, but nor could I experience the adrenaline thrill of being in a completely new and foreign environment. Curious.

The holiday itself was incredibly smooth. We had no transport hiccups, our accommodation was great, and the service was generally good (although the restaurants stop serving much earlier than in Spain, and the waiters made no bones about packing up tables and chairs around people who were still eating. One time they even turned the lights off on us, at 11pm in the centre of Venice. Mum told them very smoothly that if she couldn’t see the bill, she couldn’t pay it, for which they had no counter argument).

As for the highlights of the trip, well fortunately there were many! It was curious to re-visit cities such as Rome, Florence and Venice, and see them in a different way. Some monuments were no less incredible the second time round, others I barely stopped to look at. Here’s a mixed mix of the places I saw, and some of the things that stuck out.

The Roman Forum: How on earth I missed this last time I don’t know, especially as my ticket to the Colosseum would have got me straight in. The Forum is a collection of ruins in the city centre. The buildings were once temples, shrines, basilicas and government offices, constructed across centuries by various emperors, each trying to outdo his predecessors. I’m not massively into ruins, and to me The Forum looks like a messy shamble from the outside. But I was in the company of people who know and love that kind of history, and their enthusiasm was contagious. Wandering the incredible buildings and gardens was fascinating and very enjoyable, despite the sweltering heat.

duomo of florenceFLORENCE
The Duomo: My favourite building in Italy. This time I climbed the tower, which was much easier in comparison to the claustrophobic steps of Segovia’s Alcázar, due to several rest points and a lovely cool breeze. So don’t be discouraged by the climb, it’s well worth it to view the building from above and look across at the beautiful domed rooves.
Walnut bread, fresh figs and chianti: Florence’s central market is a great place to pick up picnic supplies (and the path up to the Rose Garden across the river is a great place to have a picnic). The highlight was definitely the walnut bread – it was sort of like a chewy, sweet and salty flat bread, made with wholegrain flour. We went back to the market bakery for seconds (a few times), but stupidly didn’t get the name of the bread, and weren’t able to find it anywhere else. If anyone knows anything about Italian breads, please get in touch with me!

The shroud of Turin: The cloth that supposedly wrapped Christ’s crucified body is one of the most controversial and most analysed artefacts in the world. It’s held in a shrouded (haha) container behind a lot of security in the Cattedrale di San Giovanni Battista, but you can study a (surprisingly interesting) full scale replica in the nearby Church of San Lorenzo, or in the Museo della Sindone, the Shroud museum.
Mole AntonellianaThe Mole: is more than just a striking piece of modern architecture, it also houses Turin’s ‘National’ film and cinema museum. For me the highlight was the glass elevator, which takes you up through the centre of the museum and out onto an observation deck, for spectacular views of the city.
Caffè Mulassano: This tiny art nouveau cafe is found on the Piazza Castello. Drinks are pricey but well worth it for the nibbles (which came in silver bowls with silver spoons) elaborate decor, and friendly waiters (who only speak Italian). I recommend the spinach quiche, and the olives were the best I’ve tried outside of Spain.
Caffè San Tomasso 10: is creatively named after its address. This was the original Lavazza family coffee shop, and the walls are decorated with stunning, sexy, coffee-themed photography from their various advertising campaigns.

Skip all that fashion rubbish, Milan’s Duomo is much more stylish. The Cathedral’s gothic stonework is best viewed from the upstairs galleries, where you can walk amongst the arches and view the statues and gargoyles up close.

Well, George Clooney wasn’t there to pick us up from the station in his private, Nespresso powered waterplane, but we had fun in Como nonetheless. I’ve no particular recommendations, other than that if you’re short on time, the funicular and the ferry are both great for taking in views of the scenery, at two very different angles. What else can I say? It’s just a very pretty part of the world. Apparently it looks like Switzerland, and lots of famous people live there.

Venice is tired, and made me tired. It’s hot, and crowded, and expensive, and I feel sorry for the buildings which are all slowly rotting and sinking under the weight of the tourist hordes with their cameras, gelatis, and tacky souvenirs. However, I did have a few pleasant surprises.
Vivaldi: Mum bought some spur-of-the-moment 25 euro tickets to a concert from one of those street vendors dressed in Renaissance get up. I was sceptical, thinking it might be a scam, or at best, the concert would be terrible. Venice has such a transient population that if the musicians were awful, no matter, tomorrow would bring a fresh, ignorant crowd and it would be a sell out as usual. How wrong I was. The music (The Four Seasons, plus some) was fantastic, and the musicians were fascinating. The performance was held in a small church just off St.Mark’s square, which reportedly had the same acoustics and dimensions as what Vivaldi originally composed his works for. The intimacy of the venue allowed us to study the musicians faces, and speculate on their possible relationships and the apparent musical and psychological battle that may or may not have been taking place between them. Definitely the most interesting concert I have ever been to.
Gondola ride: Many people say this is over-priced and overrated. At 80 euros for half an hour, I’ll admit it’s bordering on daylight robbery, but I really think it’s worth it. It’s a beautiful way to enjoy the city. After scurrying around crowded walkways all day, it was so relaxing to kick back in a gondola and glide for a bit. The best bit was enjoying the music wafting by from other gondolas which had payed extra for the ‘canapé and serenade’ package.
Delivery men: The delivery men of Venice have it tough. The logistics of the island are a nightmare; narrow streets, heaps of steps, and lots of loading/unloading big boxes from little boats. It’s hot and they work hard, mostly with their shirts off. If tanned and muscled torsos interest you, I recommend an early morning stroll in Venice, before the shops open.

LUCCA is a small city in Tuscany that’s famous for its medieval walls, pretty shops, and general pleasant-ness.
Aperol Spritzer: Aperol, Prosecco, and soda, served with a green olive on a toothpick, and with plain potato chips. Lucca’s central plaza is  round, and filled with nice cafes, parked bikes, and happy families. It’s the perfect place to enjoy an Aperol Spritzer and listen to some pretty good buskers.
Bike ride along the top of the walls: The city takes less than an hour to circumnavigate and it’s flat the whole way, which makes it an easily doable ‘exercise’ – even if you’ve had a few spritzers the night before. The views are gorgeous and the bikes are only 3 euros to hire.

Amalfi Coast

AMALFI was apparently the ‘highlight’ of my last trip to Italy. This time, it was the biggest disappointment. I remember the Amalfi coast as being spectacularly beautiful and dramatic, but now it just seemed crowded, cheap (classless), and dirty. Fortunately there were two saving graces:
Santa Croce beach and bar: is a free 5 min boat trip from Amalfi. Go to the left-hand jetty (when facing the beach) and look for the little boat with Santa Croce written on the side; it comes and goes all day. The captain is a big guy with long hair and a belly, I think his name was Antonio. This’ll take you to a small private beach, where it costs 15 euro for two banana lounges and a beach umbrella. The beach is much nicer (and the water much cleaner) than the big ones, and there’s a nice little restaurant that’s pretty inexpensive and has good seafood and pasta.
Il porticciolo di Amalfi: This was our ‘splurge’ accommodation. It’s pension which is a little removed from the town, up on the hillside, with a beautiful terrace that has spectacular views (especially at night). The breakfast is fantastic and the owners were lovely (they gave us the recommendation for Santa Croce). They also let us use the kitchen, and in the end we took all our meals on the terrace (so the ‘splurge’ really paid for itself). On the last evening we were lucky enough to witness a lightning storm out at sea, whilst enjoying spritzers and cheeses in the balmy night on our side of the bay.

ASSISI took me completely by surprise, and was without a doubt the highlight of this holiday. In fact, it was so beautiful, that I’m going to write a separate post about it.

So, that was Italy. I’ve definitely sated the lingering desire I’d had to revisit the country, as well as any buffalo mozzarella cravings I’m likely to have over the next few years. In a way, I’m glad that dream is over.

I’ll upload a photo gallery in the next post, and link them to the travel photos tab in the sidebar.


On the road again*, still.

(*with international basketball superstars, and a couple of “social” badminton enthusiasts)


Two years ago on the 8th of August, I got on a plane with a one-way ticket to Rome. My vague ‘plan’ was to travel (you know, around), become ‘fluent’ in Spanish, build a romantically bohemian, semi-nomadic life for myself, and somehow write (or at least think about writing) something a lot more creative and ambitious than this blog.

Italian fruit and wine shop, with dream vespa and vine-clad apartmentSo how is it going? Not too bad! I’m getting by, by teaching English and occasionally translating, both of which I enjoy immensely. The travel is happening, semi-frequently, though not always when and where and how I’d plan it (had I unlimited time and a mysterious benefactor – currently taking offers!). My Spanish is slow and steadily improving, though it’s an infinite task and I doubt I’ll ever be content with my level. And as for the real, really infinite task…well my writing is so far, um, not progressing. It’s currently limited to this blog, some stream-of-consciousness diary entries (even more nonsensical and narcissistic than this blog), and a focus-less (oh dear) smattering of half baked creative/journalistic bits ‘n pieces, that are possibly unreadable and definitely unpublishable. (So what I’m kinda getting at, dear friends, family and humble followers, is that I hope you’re not holding your breath!)

But life is good (in fact, it’s great), and I’m happy to continue along this wandering trajectory for quite a while longer.

My only real complaint is that Australia is too far away. Unfortunately, not much can be done to remedy that. Skype and email and facebook (and even real letters and postcards) are all wonderful, but there’s just no substitute for face to face conversation or sharing a bottle of wine over a game of (real) scrabble. No number of European kisses will ever be substitute for a heartfelt Aussie hug.

It’s been two years since I’ve been home, and I’m finally starting to feel it. Call me cold and insensitive (you wouldn’t be the first), but since I left, I’ve barely felt homesick. Of course I miss my friends and family (and a lot more than they think I do), but for me, this sacrifice has become the main incentive to make the most of my time here. Why give up so much, to mope around feeling mopey? There’s no point in marring one experience because you’re bitter about missing out on another. So try not to dwell on it.

At least that’s what I tell myself, and most of the time it works. However, a few weeks ago, I felt my first serious pangs of homesickness. My dad (who’s a painter), had a big exhibition opening. It was at a regional gallery, and literally hundreds of people made an overnight trip from Melbourne to give him their support. The opening was a huge success, as was the party afterwards. As I watched the speeches via Skype, the momentousness of the occasion struck me. Dad spoke so well. I felt so proud, and so sad. In the photos that came after the event, I recognised both faces and paintings I hadn’t seen in years. It seems that everybody, from friends and family, to industry professionals and total strangers, has been raving about the show and the night. Everyone except me. It really, really frustrated and upset me that I couldn’t be there. Perhaps it was the significance of the event, or that I’m getting soft (or tired and emotional), or perhaps it’s just been too long. Despite having missed two Christmases, and numerous weddings, births, footy matches, parties, and much needed hugs, this is the first time I’ve seriously felt as though I was missing out on something. I should have been there, and not just for myself.

Señor Cigüeña, Mr Stork, I wanna be like you...

However, since the exhibition, two things have made my ‘Antipodean dilemma’ a lot more bearable.

The first is a recent spate of catch ups with Australian friends and relatives over here in Europe. Most importantly… my mum!!!

Mum arrived in Madrid about three weeks ago… and it’s impossible to put in words how wonderful it’s been to see her, how much fun we’ve had, and how flat out we’ve been – travelling, talking, and socialising. Using Segovia as our home base, we spent time in Madrid, Granada, Cordoba, and Hinjosa del Duque, the tiny middle-of-nowhere town where I lived during my first year in Spain. I introduced her to as many of my Spanish friends as possible, and we also caught up with a number of Aussies who were serendipitously in Madrid at the same time. Then, we flew to Rome, where we spent a lovely couple of days with Mum’s English cousin and his partner. After that, we went an ideal travel companionto Florence, to visit my favourite building in Italy (Il Duomo di Firenze) and further our quest for the perfect pistachio gelati (which we still haven’t found, though we did accidently hit upon the world’s yummiest walnut bread). Currently we’re in Turin, with my twin aunts and my aunt’s basketball team. They’re here to compete in the World Masters Games, which is kind of like an open Olympics for mature athletes. The basketball girls are seriously good, and have been competing in international competitions for years. Just for fun (and in order to be eligible for competitors’ rates on luxury accommodation) Mum and my other aunt have entered the social badminton competition. Up until a couple of months ago they’d never played it (or anything else) in their lives. But they’ve really embraced badminton (particularly the social aspect) and have had the chance to compete with athletes from all over the world…  it’s been surprisingly fun to watch. So with basketball, badminton, and 11 other Melbournian women all bursting to enjoy Italy (go shopping, make days trips, and eat and drink and eat and drink), it’s been a busy ten days of competition. The group have been so lovely and welcoming, and Turin has almost become like home… it’ll be a shame to leave and get back on the road again tomorrow.

Back to Mum’s visit. I loved showing her Spain, and sharing what I love about the country; the lifestyle, the scenery, the Alhambra, the food, the wine, the prices, the weather, the people. Now she can put names to faces and I find it reassuring to know that she’s reassured (and can see that I’ve ‘fallen on my feet’, that I’m happy with what I’m doing, and that I live in a safe environment with good people). Mum’s marvelling at everything has also refreshed my own outlook. I was beginning to take things for granted (such as old buildings and free tapas), but it’s hit me all over again just how lucky I am to be where I am and be able to live how I do. Mum is an easygoing and fun travel companion, and took to Spain like a fish to water (not everyone does), embracing all the best things whilst graciously turning a blind eye to issues like food safety (not easy for a nurse-come-health-inspector). We’ve still got a couple of weeks to go in Italy (it’s a hard life), before she goes back to the real world and I go back to Segovia… but all I can say is, so far so good… I think (I hope) this trip has been exactly what we both needed.  I for one feel strengthened and reaffirmed and ready for whatever the next few years bring.

And now, the second thing that makes my yearning for Australia bearable… is the promise of a trip home! I’ve finally booked my ticket, and providing all things go to plan, will be back in Melbourne for nearly a month over Christmas.


Between now and then, there’s a lot more to see, do, and look forward to. I’ll certainly need to upload some photos of our Italian adventure, and we’ll see if I can manage to squeeze out a haiku, or something.

But given the rate at which time is speeding along, I guess I can say to some of you, see you soon!

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To: people on the old mailing list
Subject: ITALY and GREECE!!!
Date: 3rd September, 2011
From: jean

Greetings all,

Apologies for not writing sooner (to those I’d promised I’d write to), and apologies for writing at all (to those who don’t want to receive ‘another travel email’ – just let me know).

BEWARE: this is a long email. I have no excuse other than my laptop claims to have 9hrs 47mins of battery life and I’ve resolved to test it.

I hope you’re all well :-)

I am too :-)

It hasn’t even been a month since I left , but already feels like so much longer – I’m definitely getting money for jam in the space-time continuum. In reality I’ve had about 2 weeks in Italy, with a week in Greece in the middle (pre-arranged to meet up with brother Steve), and currently (well at the time of writing) I’m on route to Paris (via train). I’m planning to stay there about ten days, before winding down through the south of France into Spain, in order to start work on the 3rd October. Attached is a map of my (slightly illogical) itinerary…

So far no major disasters have befallen me, just some minor hiccups such as transport delays and broken sunglasses (I dropped a bag on my head), and vending machines eating coins. But my luggage continues to arrive in tandem at every destination, I haven’t had anything stolen, or been ripped off, and I’m feeling as healthy as can be (for someone subsisting almost entirely on wine, cheese, gelati, and no exercise). I do wear a wooden bracelet all the time.

ITALY: has been everything I hoped for and more. More tourists than I care to compete with, more art and history and breathtaking landscapes than I can fully take in, and more flavours of gelati than I can ever hope to try. The cliffs are bigger than I imagined, the architecture grander. The bar, in my books, has officially been raised. Despite being peak season, I haven’t blown my budget (well, as much as I feared). Some of the hostels I’ve stayed in were incredibly good value (think swimming pool with a view of Tuscan hills for 30€ per night, with fresh figs and giant jars of Nutella at breakfast), and simple but delicious food is cheap and easy to find. The only thing that’s failed to impress me is their transport system, which makes Melbourne’s look like the model of efficiency, and is unfortunately an unavoidable and expensive expense.

ROME: as it was my first destination I was bursting with enthusiasm, which was good, as Rome takes a lot of energy! On Day One I woke up at the crack of dawn to beat the crowds, see the sights, and break in my new sandals (risky business). My first stop was the Colosseum. As you step out of the train station, it’s RIGHT THERE!!! Gave me quite a shock. That’s when it finally hit me that I was on the other side of the world, finally, doing all that I’d been daydreaming of and planning and saving for, that it’s all actually happening right now, in the present tense!! It was a very memorable moment and I had a bit of a teary, whilst keeping my other eye out for pickpockets. So overall I loved Rome – the history just has such an impressive physical presence, and yet the modern Romans still hold their own against the crowds and remind you that it’s a living city with so much more going on than tourism.

FLORENCE: doesn’t hold out quite as well. It seems to be predominantly populated by ex-pat students and tourists, the locals were sensibly scarce. I wonder where/when the real city occurs? However, the on-show version is still truly beautiful. The Duomo was my favourite building (but of course). I’m still not sure what colour the domes actually are – green? honey? blue-grey? rust? Perhaps my memory is playing tricks on me. The light sure did. I loved how it can be seen from almost every angle in the city centre, lurking above and between the tall narrow streets, like a monster in a Shaun Tan illustration.

VENICE: felt like science fiction. A spectacular, ancient city, sinking under the weight of all the modern people (and their cameras). I felt exhausted for it, and hated being just another bloody tourist. As much as I’d love to visit during the off season, then I’d still be just another bloody tourist, but eating into their respite. Having said that, I’m so glad I went. I couldn’t not go, and it was so majestic, and so inspiring to think that people once had the imagination and ambition to build it.

NAPLES: is a filthy, boiling mess of a city, full of corruption, but refreshingly void of tourists. I loved it. The streets are piled with rubbish and the shells of burnt out motorbikes. Apparently the mafia has a power hold on waste management, and somehow makes money from leaving it there. Crossing the road feels like bungy jumping, you’ve just got to step out and hope. But there was a great crowd in my hostel, I felt safe the whole time (except for crossing the road), and it was a good base to make day trips to Pompeii and the Amalfi Coast. I also had the best value meal of my life. There are a handful of pizza restaurants in close contention for ‘Best Pizza in Naples’ (ie, ‘Best Pizza in the World’), and me and three other backpackers managed to fluke a table at one of them. It came to 30€ for four very big pizzas, a plate of mixed fried thingies (aranchini filled with melty cheese, crumbed zucchini, other mystery delights), two bottles of wine, and soft drinks etc. I’m not sure what was more unbelievable – the bill, or just how good a plain margarita pizza can be!


TUSCANY: is just like the postcards. I hired a bike and rode (downhill the whole way) to Vinci (where Leonardo was born). It was a beautiful little town with winding streets and terracotta rooftops. It then took me two buses and another bike ride to get back, as there’s no way I could ride the same distance uphill.

CINQUE TERRE: 5 beautiful little cliff-side villages, a gruelling walk between them under the hot hot sun (we cheated and got a ferry part way), followed by a refreshing swim in the Mediterranean. As we were enjoying some gelati and watching the sunset, my kiwi companion made the mistake of commenting on how it had been a perfect day, I said that’s exactly what I was thinking, thereby jinxing the trains home.

PISA: I’d made every effort to boycott this tourist trap, but due delayed trains from Cinque Terre, ended up being stranded for hours and hours at Pisa station. The worst thing was that it was so late, and we were so hungry, and the only place still open was McDonalds… so I was forced to fail both my boycotts at once.

POMPEII: was fascinating, those ancient Romans were ingenious! They had sliding doors, and aqueducts, and proper insulation, and phallic arrows carved into the pavement so that foreign sailors who didn’t speak Latin could still find the brothels. I think Swanston St could also benefit from the same giant stepping stones, so that people can cross the road without getting their feet wet. My tour guide was a colourful old Italian man, who gave us an impressive operatic performance in order to demonstrate the natural acoustics of the Pompeii amphitheatre.

AMALFI COAST: a giant version of Cinque Terre, probably my favourite destination so far. The trip was worth it for the views on the bus ride alone. Loved wandering the towns, people watching on the beaches, and washing away all the grime of Naples.

BOLOGNA: Mum’s is still better, but I may be slightly biased. The city itself had a great vibe, particularly around the university, for some reason I can imagine living there.

VERONA: great architecture, though the rain caught me totally off guard! ‘Juliet’s balcony’ was a pretty, if somewhat artificial tourist destination, built long after Shakespeare. There’s a statue of Miss Capulet and people line up for the privilege of rubbing her right breast, to bring luck in love. I know my cynicism will get me nowhere, but I just couldn’t stomach queuing, anymore than I could stomach the souvenir shops packed with fluffy love hearts. The city itself is really, really nice though. Very trendy shops, and marble streets all through the centre.

ANCONA: is a good place to sleep, if you’ve just got a ferry from Greece.

GREECE: was different. I flew there from Venice, and met Steve at the airport, sans drama, and sans mobile phones! (who’da thunk it was possible?)

STEVE: was full of excitement and tales of debauchery from his Top-Deck tour, made me feel hung-over just talking to him. But it was great to catch up, and we had a delicious meal on the roof of our hotel in Athens, overlooking the Acropolis at night.

THE FOOD: was even better and cheaper than Italy, I thought. More varied, lots of meat and seafood and salad, and the bakeries were overflowing with sticky baklava goodness.

THE TRANSPORT: was stunningly inefficient.

THE SERVICE: was exceptionally friendly, and genuine (I won’t bore you with the exceptions). One delightful hostel owner even went home to get her chess set for us, just cos I’d enquired if there was one.

SANTORINI: not as postcard perfect as I’d hoped, but I did have very high expectations. This may be because everyone says it’s the most beautiful of all the Greek Islands. However we were only there for two nights and there was a lot more to explore than we had time for.

IOS: we went there for the night life, which was sadly underwhelming. The island is full of the worst kind of Aussies; loud, drunk, ignorant, and embarrassing. Unfortunately all the bars now cater for this crowd. Going out felt totally orchestrated. The way it’s ‘supposed’ to be done is to start drinking in the afternoon, then go to sleep from about 8 until ten or eleven, then start drinking again, and not even think about heading out until midnight (if you’re really keen), or 2am (if you’re really cool). Once you hit the bars, there is an elaborate ritual of which to go to and when, depending on drink specials or whatever. The problem is that if you’re in the wrong bar at the wrong time, it will be totally empty, and if you follow the correct procedure, you’ll be forced to listen to the same top forty (really just top 3) hits on repeat at every venue. On the second night out it already felt like Groundhog Day. I’m all up for starting late, if there’s something happening beforehand (like work or dinner or a show), but why not just start at a normal hour, and if it’s fun, stay out longer! If you need to sleep until eleven so that you can then say you were up until dawn, then that really isn’t hardcore. And personally, I prefer a bar that fills at a natural pace, depending on the merit of the music and the crowd and the beverages. And, the wine in Greece is terrible!  There. I’ve had my rant. Though apparently there’s much more to Ios than the main party town, so my fault for following the crowd and not thinking outside the square. But…I really just wanted a massive night out!

PAROS: was a pleasant surprise. Beautiful, relaxed, and authentic. We loved our meal so much on the first night that we went back to the same restaurant, and despite moving tables, the waiter let us have the same potted olive tree (Homer) at our table both nights.

TIME IN GREECE: was mostly spent eating, drinking, reading, playing cards, perusing the shops, napping on ferries, swimming, sunbaking, and having at least a couple of siestas each day, because so much relaxation can be exhausting.

GOODBYE STEVE: we parted at Athens’ port, and he somehow made it back to Australia before my ferry got to Italy. However, Steve I’m sorry to say that my bus ride across mainland Greece had really beautiful scenery, I thought it looked even nicer than the islands, you missed out. (But it was a pleasure to travel with you, and thanks for the three kilos of Dutch cheese. Made me very popular in the hostel kitchens.)

THE FERRY TO ITALY: was an experience. Unlike the island ferries, where “deck” means you can sleep anywhere that’s not reserved, for the twenty something hours from Patras to Ancona, “deck” meant “deck, or the corridor on level 7. and no, you cannot bring your luggage into the lounge. and no, there is no luggage storage on board. and just so you know, another thousand passengers are getting on at the next port, so you’d better find some floorspace quick smart and stay there”. I did find a nice little cosy spot on the lino under a stairwell (quite fitting as I’ve been re-reading Harry Potter), and woke amongst a sweaty jumble of Greeks and Italians (they come prepared with blankets and inflatable mattresses, the parents get pillows and the kids use dad’s belly). So now I know.

And then, and then I was back in Italy… but now (I’ve just noticed), I’ve crossed the border into France! how exciting! The rooftops are slanty instead of flat!

Such a shame, as much as I’m really looking forward to France, I really, really loved Italy. I’m hooked on buffalo mozzarella and pistachio gelati, and my Enspangliano was coming along nicely. Definitely want to go back there, in less of a rush. A good incentive to become wildly successful at something someday.

Definitely had better wrap this up, you’ve no doubt all fallen asleep at your desks, and I’m really getting tired, and my writing is getting really lazy.

And so, arrivederci amigos e familia, hasta la prossima vez. Capisco?

Much love to you all