Seeing Sicily with the family (no not that family).

Only a few times in a trip do you experience something so remarkable that you know immediately it will become one of the enduring memories of the trip. One that really reminds you why you saved your pennies for months, quit your job, flew half way around the world and then lived out of a suitcase for months. Often it’s something you can’t buy, but comes from lucky timing or the generosity of other people. Staying in Sicily with Kelly’s Sicilian family would prove to be one of those experiences.

Stepping off the train in Catania we were greeted by Connie and Ottavio, Kelly’s 2nd or 3rd (or 4th or 5th) cousins who lived in Sicily. This was an unusual occurrence to us and a sign of things to come. Nothing would be too much for Kelly’s Sicilian relatives over the next 7 days. Saying they pride themselves on their hospitality just doesn’t really go far enough. Everything was taken care of and it became virtually impossible to pay for anything. Either the family had already paid or the shopkeeper, hairdresser (Kel took the opportunity to get her hair cut with the help of Connie who could translate) or hotelier would simply refuse to accept our cash. It seemed everyone knew everyone in Sicily and as we were family, no money need change hands. (Photo - Family "Welcome" gathering)

Despite the idea to bridge the small stretch of Mediterranean ocean between mainland Italy and Sicily being around for 5 years, plans have currently been shelved in preference for more important spending. Spanning 3.6 Km it would be the largest suspension bridge in the world and no doubt keep the mostly mafia owned construction industry busy for a good twenty years. Nothing it seems happens quickly in Sicily. So with no bridge to aid our crossing we took the train, which is then loaded, carriage by carriage, into the bowels of a ferry for the short trip across to Sicily. Thus we took the beautiful crossing on a train stuck in a boat with no windows and plenty of diesel fumes. However, despite this and the assurances of a late arrival by our Sicilian hosts, the train arrived in Catania on time. We were quickly whisked away to our hotel for the week to shower and await the arrival of the rest of the Australian Familia (Kelly’s Mum, Dad and Brother) who were flying in from London.
(Photo - Valley of the Temples, Agrigento)

The next 7 days would be a relaxing mix of food, family history, food, archaeological sites, food and Sicilian history. Kelly and I welcomed the opportunity to handover the day to day decisions of travelling to someone else for a while. We had accommodation, transport and activities largely organised for a whole week, more than we’d ever had organised the entire trip so far. We visited ancient Greek ruins, hunted down Kelly’s grandfathers house in a rural Sicilian hill town (see next post), and explored Catania, everyday finishing with a delicious feast of Sicilian food at a relatives home. The week was a rare and wonderful glimpse into Sicilian culture, an experience usually so hard to find as a tourist. (Photo - Sicilian home cooked food)

France Photos

The France Photo album is finally up here:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=96886&id=603243044&l=d995829b12

There are plenty of photos of Kel and I enjoying the local delights....

Sorrento, Amalfi and Pompeii

Sorrento, while a very busy resort town, still retains its amazing natural beauty in its cliffs, mountains and postcard views. It was to be our base for a few days, from which we could explore the famous Amalfi coast and wander around Pompeii. First we decided to visit Amalfi and began the day with easily the most picturesque public bus ride anywhere in the world. For a few Euro’s the local bus company will take you along the winding Amalfi coast to the picture perfect towns of Positano and Amalfi. Possibly more stunning than the Cinque Terre, the mix of massive steep cliffs, turquoise water and lush mountains makes this one of the most breathtaking coasts in Europe. Kelly, in her usual fashion (having seen it all before), promptly fell asleep and proceeded to softly head butt the window or me as the bus wound its way up and down the never ending switchbacks along the coastal road.

Stepping off our “air-conditioned” bus drenched in sweat we decided to head straight for the local beach. Having brought only my towel (a small tea towel sized blue thing I had picked up for a Euro in Spain) our options for sunbaking were limited. The beach, being composed of black stones, was way to hot to touch with any bare skin. So after a dip in the warm water we sat on the tiny towel drying in the hot sun. Temporarily cooled but now quickly heating up again we completed a speedy tour of Amalfi and jumped back on the bus to get to Positano, our lunch destination. After a great lunch and some time on the more spacious beach we lumbered back up the hill to get the bus home. The buses were clearly having some trouble as none came for at least an hour. When one finally did turn up it was already packed to the rafters. Not deterred by this problem the bus driver forced everyone back further down the isle and on we got. Standing like sardines we sweated and staggered as the bus hurtled back along the switchbacks headed for Sorrento. With an estimated 80 people on the bus we arrived, very relieved and only a little nauseated.

Next day we visited Pompeii and managed to snag a guided tour, which up until this point we had avoided. Getting thoroughly sick of the uninteresting and overpriced audio guides we instead paid a funny and knowledgably local to lead us around the formidably large archaeological site. Perhaps the most fascinating and macabre sights are the plaster casts of bodies in the very position they died as the town was engulfed in ash. Other top sights are the recently restored (but not operational) brothel with pictures of the services on offer on the walls and the bakery with its very own wood-fire oven (also not operational but clearly a business opportunity in the offing).

We finished our days in Sorrento with a relaxing day next to the pool of our hotel. The Michael Jackson memorial service was screening live on CNN at 7PM so we headed out early for dinner and picked up a bottle of Limoncello to console ourselves. Whatever you think of the man and his music he has undoubtedly given a lot to the world through charity and his work on songs like “We are the Children”, essentially the precursor to the Live Aid campaign.

Roasting in Rome

A long-time favourite of Kelly‘s, Rome was always going to be impressive. Its history is the monumental, intriguing, violent and exciting kind that interests everybody. The stories of gladiators, Caesars, Roman legions and the Republic excite even the most unhistorically attuned traveller. Overlay the grandeur, sanctity and intriguing history of the Vatican and you have one fascinating city. Its just as well all roads lead to Rome, when you imagine what you’d miss by not coming here. Unfortunately for us though, it seems not many people do miss it; and the crowds are at times infuriating. Rome’s unique ability to preserve ancient monuments in a vibrant, living city makes it a very, very popular place. While it’s easy to detest the 20 million people (around the size of the Australian population) that visit every year, it even easier to see why they come. (Photo - Trevi fountain at night)


Most of them though, don’t stay at Casa Olmata, a rundown hostel near the main station with views of the top few bricks of the colosseum. Even though we looked at a few places to stay in Rome, in the end we were always going to end up at Casa Olmata, the place Kel stayed 7 years ago on her previous Europe trip. It sounded reasonable on the website but first impressions were not good. The rooms were small but cleanish, but the kitchen was tiny, and importantly only one plate could be found. Pots were also in a very short supply and cups seemed to have vanished altogether. What Casa Olmata lacked in kitchen implements though it made up for in character, and a kind of really rustic, renovators delight kind of charm. The roof was a (rusty and when intoxicated dangerous) terrace that provided a great area for meeting other guests. Night one saw us touring the sites (Colosseum, Forum, Trevi fountain and Spanish steps) with a group of recently graduated medical students from the UK. Other nights were spent on the terrace with a (thankfully less American) international crowd. And while the kitchen was hardly operational the 2nd nightly pasta parties (all you can eat pasta with wine for an unbelievable two Euro) kept the place rocking and the people happy. Dinner, bed and breakfast for twenty Euros in Rome is pretty hard to beat! (Photo - Colosseum with medical students and Kelly)

Our usual procedure of making lunch met with a small hurdle on day one in Rome. We had decided to visit the Vatican museums and St Peters early and arrived at an amazingly punctual 9AM. We had packed lunch, not yet made, and my pocket knife to make it. Approaching the entrance to St Peters I saw that we were not lining up for tickets but lining up to get through security. Then we spotted the big, very clear signs with a red cross over a knife, among other items. So we were in a pickle; chance the security check point and risk losing the knife or make the hour round trip back to the hostel to drop the knife back there. I choose the latter, keen not to lose the knife to a particularly vigilant security officer. So after the hour round trip to the hostel and back we were again lining up, this time at 10:30. Luckily the crowds weren’t too bad and the rest of the day went very well. St Peters, the Sistine chapel and the Raphael rooms were the clear highlights.

Otherwise only the increasing heat caused us any stress, it making a day visiting the Colosseum, Forum and Palatine rather exhausting. Half sad, but mostly relieved we said goodbye to Casa Olmata and headed to Sorrento, where we had found a 3 star hotel cheap on the internet. It was time to relax for a few days before meeting up with Kelly’s family in Sicily. (Photo - Forum)

Seriously Seductive Spain (Spain Wrap up)

See the full Spain photo Gallery here:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=88007&id=603243044&l=f76a06632a

Spain is an amazing place. Its mix of Islamic/Moorish and Catholic/European influences have given it a truly individual feel. It’s history seemed largely unknown to us, indeed had it not been for Monty Python we may well had never heard of the Spanish inquisition. It amazed us to find that Spain was a fascist dictatorship until recently, even into our lifetimes. But that Spain is thoroughly banished to the history books and tourism is the new big thing. Andulusia, the southern, old Moorish kingdom in the south of Spain quickly became our favourite province with amazing places like Granada and Tarifa. Hugging the Mediterranean coast from there on we missed the capital Madrid, but coastal cities like Valencia and Barcelona more than filled our big city appetite. We finished with a quick trip over to the Atlantic coast at San Sebastian before heading north into France.

Having spent some time in South and Central America Spanish is probably our best “second” language. We certainly found life easier with our basic understanding of the language, and having basic conversations with local Spanish shopkeepers etc really did make our days more enjoyable. Moving on to France has really made this point evident. In terms of food and wine Spanish wins big points for its tapas. It just seems to make sense to try a little of everything instead of eating a lot of one thing. The wine’s main selling point was it’s price (plenty of choice for two Euro’s) although writing this after visiting France could be a little unfair. Also not having much background on Spanish wine, we weren’t the best prepared of gourmet travellers. Still, we came to Spain with high expectations and the country delivered, in more ways than we’d anticipated. We expected beautiful beaches, great food, and friendly people but we hadn’t counted on interesting art, stunning architecture and intriguing, fairly regionalised cultures. Andulucia’s culture is particularly fascinating, it being moulded by hundreds of years of opposing Islamic or Catholic rule.


Days spent in Spain:
Alcohol Free days: ? (not many)
Items lost or stolen: USB drive, likely left in Granada.
Items Purchased: Ryan: boardies, hat, sunnies. Kelly: Travel pants.
Coffee: Stong! But generally ok.
Beaches visited: 5
Cathedrals visited: 5
Best place: Granada
Best meal: Pintxos in San Sebastian
Worst place: Anywhere not in Spain!
Worst meal: Paella from a market in Valencia, cheap but not really that tasty.

Pasq in Perugia

After a relaxing few days in rural Tuscany we headed for the larger city of Perugia, perennial university town and temporary home of Pasq, a friend from Monash. He was here for a month learning Italian and had clearly been having a good time. The city hosts an enormous amount of international students, most here for a month or two to learn Italian. We had arrived at the end of a month and thus the city was in flux with the large changeover of students. It felt a bit like turning up on a cruise ship on the last day of the cruise, with everyone tired from a month of partying and sad it all had to end. Luckily though we had turned up a few days before everyone had to leave and so there was plenty of people keen to celebrate. Pasq was the all knowing, all obliging tour guide and new knowledge of the language was equally matched by his knowledge of the local pub scene. With our ready made group of friends, for it seemed like Pasq knew virtually every student in town, we had some fantastic nights out, including a very memorable night of karaoke.

Special thanks to Damien and his housemates for the use of their couch on the last night of their lease, we hope to catch you guys in Santorini or Munich. We parted ways as Pasq, Damien and others headed to Siena for Il Palio and we headed south to Rome. Our paths will cross next on Santorini with another Monash friend (yet to leave Australia) for some Greek island bliss.

The rolling hills of Tuscany (Tuscan travels part 2)

After the hectic pace of Florence we had decided to explore the Tuscan countryside, eating and drinking our way around this famous foodie heaven. The location of our base had not really been decided but somewhere near Lake Trasimeno (actually in Umbria) sounded good. After discovering that the small medieval, hilltop town of Cortona had featured in the book, “Under the Tuscan sun” (which I had read just before heading away after finding it at a Sunday market in Alice Springs) the decision was made. That there was a youth hostel with beds for fifteen Euro only sweetened the deal. So a few days were spent exploring the local countryside and cuisine, including the nearby Lake Trasimeno. It was a truly amazing culinary experience, with our best meals out so far and the most tasty lunches created with the incredible local produce. We ate so much our minds were forced to consider some exercise, which luckily the hilly town provided plenty of. The experience was perhaps slightly marred by the presence of a huge number of (mostly day tripping) Americans, but we quickly discovered hardly any of them would venture far from the main street. (Photo above - Tuscan countryside from Cortona)

Being so close to Umbria, we couldn’t continue without dropping in on Pasquale, a friend from University. He was studying Italian in Perugia, a short 45 minute train ride away. So we said goodbye to a Tuscan hill town and headed for an Umbrian one. Only this next one was full of thirty thousand or so international students studying at the various universities around town. The experience would no doubt be quite different.

Stayed: Ostello San Marco (The first HI hostel we’ve stayed in, it occupies a former monastery)
Ate: Osteria del Teatro (amazing original pastas like pumpkin flower ravioli and delicious other local dishes) Pan e Vino (homemade pasta and a great location)

Tuscan travels part 1 (Isla de Elba and Florence).

In an attempted to get away from the international crowds (now mainly American due, in part, to the timing of their summer break) we headed to a small island off the west coast, south of Florence. We knew there’d be crowds but we hoped they’d speak Italian, not American. And on that point we were right. It turned out to be a lovely (but very expensive) family holiday type island for middle class Italians. Their were more prams than bikes on the roads/footpaths and the beach was packed tight with Italian families on deckchairs under umbrella’s (for hire for 35 Euro per day). Finding accommodation was a challenge, mostly because we didn’t want to pay the fairly standard minimum of fifty Euro each, per night. In the end we gave in and stayed at a lovely, family run, 3 star motel. Eating at your motel/hotel is usually frowned upon so we headed out into town to look at dining options. A few places looked good but it was getting cold and we’d left in shorts and thongs (or Flipflops) so headed back to the motel for some warmer gear. Finding we were to tired to head out again we decided to eat at the motel, then swore not to tell anyone about it. What a delight it ended up being. Great food, cooked by some hardworking Italian Nonna we suspect, great service and great prices. So this became one of the immediate differences between France and Italy’s food culture. In France, there was good if you looked (and paid well) for it, in Italy there was good food everywhere. (Photo above Elba island beach by night)

After few days spent soaking up the sun on Elba’s white sandy beaches we headed back to the mainland. It was time for some serious culture, of the non-culinary style. We were off to Florence where I was aiming to absorb as much art as possible in 24 hours. As Kelly had already been and wasn’t keen on paying the hefty entrance fees to any of the galleries, I would look at art and she would go shopping. We would keep the visit to two nights so we would then have lots of time to spend in the Tuscan countryside. After some quick correspondence with my art adviser back home (thanks mum) the itinerary was set. I decided to skip the Galleria del Accademia (and Michelangelo’s David) and concentrate on the Uffizi gallery instead. I truly enjoyed the Uffizi, especially having the time to stop and linger, then move on at my own pace. For non-art history students though, it is not a gallery to just go and have a look round. You need a guide (book, person, ipod) in able to really appreciate what you’re seeing. (Photo above - Florence's Duomo by night from our hostel roof)

Add in a few great meals, two late nights partying with the youngish hostel crowd and a great fireworks displace over the famous Duomo and that was Florence.

Stayed:
Elba: Hotel Meridian, but book a cabin in one of the campsites ahead of time if you want to do it cheaper.
Florence: Plus hostel, multi-story backpacker farm with around 200 beds. Mostly full of very young Americans.
Ate: Mario - a famous small trattoria in the trade for 50 years, so good there are lines for tables at lunch.

Chalking up Cinque Terre.

After all the wine of Burgundy we decided to skip our initial destination in Italy (the wine regions of the north-west) and head straight for the Cinque Terre. This meant leaving Beaune at around 10PM and getting into the Cinque Terre after lunch the next day. It also meant the worst overnight bus trip so far. While the trains in France are first rate, the buses leave a lot to be desired. They could even learn a thing or two from Morocco buses. But, as usual, the beauty of the place we arrived in washed away the disgruntled feelings that travelling there often created. The five villages known as the Cinque Terre on Italy’s north western coast contain some simply breathtaking coastline. Having been unable to book any accommodation (everything online was booked out) we were a little worried about having o sleep on the beach. As usual, there was plenty of accommodation available and we ended up in a small apartment up a lot of steps, well compensated by a beautiful view. The view became truly spectacular on the first night as we were treated to a fireworks display by mother nature (see above photo). Lightening sparked down to the sea out in front of us as we sipped our Chianti and learnt about fraternities from our American housemates.

Day two saw us off to walk the famous path along the Cinque Terre, our only aim to get further along the walk than Adam. Taking the advice of the exhausted Americans who’d walked the whole thing the day before we left out the last village and walked back from Venazzo (to our base in Riomaggiore). The weather was great (after an initial shaky start due to some rain) and the walk splendid, and with plenty of time we stopped off occasionally for a swim to cool us down. Our first real meal in Italy was lunch, in a small Enotecca where we messed up the ordering and finished the meal with antipasti. The waiter didn’t mind and the food was delicious.

After quite a few hours in the sun during the hike and on our local beach (more like a shore covered in slightly flat, really big stones) we decided to head off to a real beach the next day. It was a quick visit to the Cinque Terre but Italy was more than 5 little villages.

Burgundy and biking in Beaune

Stop two on the epicurean tour of France was Burgundy, home of that most fickle and fantastic of grapes, Pinot noir. This variety was also Kelly’s favourite, so this was our best chance yet to change her not so positive views on France. While the Bordeaux experience had been a bit of a spiritual home coming for me, Kel was still not convinced that France was worth returning too. Hopefully Beaune would change all that.

Nestled in a truly sacred valley, just south of Dijon, Beaune (pronounced Bone) is pretty much the centre of the universe for pinot noir. The fields around this small town have been producing wine since Roman times. As the Lonely Planet puts it, this town’s reason to exist is wine. North of the town stretches the Cote d’Or and south is the Cote d’Beaune, collectively they produce the best, and most expensive pinot noirs in the world. Not that either of these areas are very big, as we delightfully established on our subsequent explorations by bicycle.

I had attempted to book us into a small hotel by telephone while in Bordeaux, ran since 1959 by a “lady of unknown years”. The conversation had not gone well and we arrived rather apprehensively. But, after a short conversation of broken English and French, she remembered the phone call with a laugh and showed us our double room. It, and the hotel were splendid. Clearly an old mansion, the place had more character than all the places we’d previously stay in added together. Our room had an enormous bed, antique wardrobe, mahogany dressing table with mirror and was cluttered with various sitting chairs, tables, hat stands and screens. The place even smelt old, but not stale old, more rich old, like wood polish and potpourri and a touch of smoke (there was an old fireplace in the corner of course). All this for twenty Euro each in France was unbelievable! To our amazement it also included breakfast, served by the Madame every morning with coffee, croissant and baguette (of course).

Thus we spent our days, breakfast with the Madame (everyone in town knew her and referred to her simply as Madame), then either off to explore the cellars and shops in town (all with plenty of tastings) or on our bicycles to explore the vineyards. The place is incredibly well setup for bicycle touring to the extent that there are dedicated trails that wind their way through the vineyards the length of the Cote d’Beaune. Used for centuries by the farmers and pickers these paths crisscross the vineyards of Burgundy. A section around 20km long heading south from Beaune has been asphalted and signed and makes for an amazing cycle day trip. Meandering through vineyards hundreds of years old, stopping to taste the occasional pinot or have a bite to eat made for probably the best day of the trip so far. The weather even came to the party and we stopped for lunch and a sunbake at a little clearing up on the hillside. Easily back in town by 5PM there was plenty of time for a proper tasting (read a bottle) and then some dinner.

Our time in Beaune came to and end (after four nights) and we said au revoir to Madame. We had investigated shipping prices to Australia but at twenty Euro per bottle quickly realised it wasn’t feasible. Sadly, we’d have to leave French wine behind. The disappointment wouldn’t last long though; for there was no shortage of gastronomic delights where we were headed. A second home for Kel and a foodie heaven for both of us, we were bound for Italy.