A wet and windy weekend

It has been an interesting few weeks since Italy. On the bad side, I discovered my credit card was cloned whilst we were on tour, and am in the midst of wrangles with the bank to return about £1000 that was stolen from me. But, on the extremely plus side, my brother Matt has arrived in London for his OE, my fun flatmate Kelly has returned from Spain, and Lucy has been given a temporary contract at the Royal College of Pathologists(!).

Having been dragged down somewhat by the credit card affair, and wanting to cheer ourselves up a bit, I thought it was a good idea to take advantage of the long weekend in May and see some countryside. I found a coach tour that visits Bath, plus gets special sunset access to Stonehenge. It sounded pretty good to me...

We left London at about 11, and made our way westwards through incredibly English weather. Our tour guide, Paul, had a unique method of keeping spirits up - telling offensive jokes about the Royal Family. He seemed to have some sort of vendetta aginst Camilla in particular, and it wasn't pleasant to be stuck on a bus with him.

Fortunately, we got to Bath soon enough and the city is so gorgeous I was smiling immediately. The buildings are irreffutably Georgian, and their gorgeous classical proportions are wonderfully enhanced by the honey coloured stone that was sourced from the nearby hills. We parked outside Bath Abbey and skiddadled up the steps to the Roman Baths to get out of the rain and take in our first tourist stop:


The Baths are laid out in four rooms over the only hot water spring in all Great Britain. They lay forgotten from around the 6th century until the late 18th when someone investigating a mysterious leak found the baths lying underneath the town streets.

The water was really warm, and standing in the rain watching the steam rise off was rather tortuous. Everyone had their umbrellas out, and it made the whole experience rather surreal.

From there it was an hour drive to Lacock. Lacock was the setting for the BBC's Pride and Prejudice, so I expect you all know how lovely it is. Unfortunately, the weather had got even worse by the time we arrived for late supper at a pre-determined 'Authentic English Pub'.

Having already decided I hated the tour guide, I despised him even more for criticising Lucy and I for bringing our own food and sitting by the fire to eat it. Not only had I bought a drink from the bar, but we weren't given any other seating options for the rainy day. I had even tried to order just a bowl of chips, but it was clearly £11 each for fish and chips ('handled' by the tour company) or nothing! At least the bar staff were on our side - they were lovely.

Warmed by fire and brandy, I was game enough to take on the rain. Lucy got out her umbrella and we set forth. The streets were soggily cute, and we found an amateur painting exhibition at the town hall:


The locals really like their dogs and horses, and there were plenty of copies of more famous works. They were of varying quality, but there were two I would definitely have bought if I hadn't been on a budget. It didn't take much walking to have 'done' the town, so we ambled soggily back to the coach and turned the heaters on full bore.

It seemed everyone was a bit down about the weather, and the coach was quiet for the next hour as we drove to Stonehenge. The tour was timed so this would be sunset, but with the driving rain it wasn't to be. However, it was still pretty special - this company is the only one allowed to have people 'over the rope' to walk among the stones.

I had already visited Stonehenge Aotearoa, and remembered enough from that to have a vague idea of what I was exploring. At least half of the stones have been taken away, and a few have fallen over - so it is a crumbly sort of experience:


The size of the stones is very impressive and although it is much smaller than one expects, the significance of the site is fairly clear. It could have been the howling wind, but I did feel a bit tingly and shivery thinking about how ancient it all was.

We had an hour scheduled at the site, but the cold and rain meant everyone was back in the coach within half that. Paul said this was the worst weather he had ever experienced on the route - which goes to show just how much of an adventure it was! But, we got the photo:


We headed back to Capital City in good enough time for Lucy and I to be tucked up warmly at home by 10:30. We covered quite a distance, and the in and out of warmth and cold was really tiring. Add to that a pig of a tour guide, and it was quite a mediocre trip. However, it was always intended to be a taster for us, so we'll go back by ourselves to see Bath and explore the West Country some more.

Most of all, the trip reminded me that one of the gazillion things I love about Lucy is her fun-filled optimism. There isn't anyone else I would rather be with on a long, cold and wet drive across England!

I must think of a good title for the last post...

Lucy and I have discovered the best Roman food joint ever – it is called Gastronimica Roscioli, and is just around the corner from our hostel. The food is fresh and wonderful. For our last lunch we enjoyed wilted rocket salad, tuna with rice and fresh fish with olive oil and lemon. It is more nutrients than we have eaten in a week!

Well fortified, we headed off to the Coliseum. Our wonderful ‘Roma Pass’ not only got us in for free, but we avoided the kilometre or so of queue to be in the thick of the action straight away.

As with everything else, the Coliseum is much smaller than I expected. Thinking I’d be looking at something the size of Jade Stadium, it was weird to find myself in something covering the same size as about two rugby fields. It wasn’t too crowded, and there were plenty of good viewpoints from which to get a grasp of the building:



The best part are the alleys and corridors that were underneath the stage area – this is where gladiators and beasts travelled to get to the trapdoors set in the floor of the arena:


Before these were built, the whole area could be flooded for mock sea battles and things – the engineering of that astounds me.

Immediately north of the Coliseum is the Roman Forum:


The buildings are similar to those at Pompeii in purpose and decay, but there are many more, and over a much wider area. It was interesting to see a cross section of a church:


The diamond pattern in the ceiling has been evident in lots of the places we’ve been to, and it was cool to see it in an open space rather than in the clean, white interior of a building.

The Forum was absolutely boggling with tourists, and we weren’t inclined to walk all the way to the end. Instead, we clambered out and took the paved route back up towards north Rome, and I showed Lucy ‘my square’ – the enormousness of it was just as cool as before.

From there, we took the back roads to the hostel and spotted some good sights for our return trip (whenever that may be!). Dinnertime found us at a basic neighbourhood place, and they didn’t seem weirded out when Lucy ordered just beer and tiramisu, and I had just fries and lemon liquor. It was an empty restaurant, so we chatted to the waitress, read magazines, and chilled out for an hour or so, enjoying the quiet before sensibly heading home for an early night.

The next morning, we had a novelty-free flight back to London and dumped our bags at home with happy hearts.

The last day, in two halves...

With perfect timing, our last day in Italy arrived just as we were ready to be home again. Lucy decided to have a late start, so I went off on my own to explore, with strict instructions to return by 1pm without forgetting tomorrow’s bus tickets to the airport.

It must have been my perfume or something, but this morning lots of people spoke to me in Italian rather than English. I felt really happy to be able to talk back, and made some nice acquaintances whilst in the queue at the station.

Having achieved the first goal of the day, I decided to head to Piazza del Republicca and try and find a present for my brother in the shops nearby. One of the reasons I had chosen this part of Roma is the fountain in the middle. Here is my favourite strangely-placed woman:


From there I wandered rather randomly into where I thought the shops might be. I had some fun with Italian shopkeepers by trying on men’s shirts (if you could see the size of Italian woman you’d understand), and forgoing the handbags and shoes they kept thrusting at me.

I finally found a unisex t-shirt shop and bought some funky stuff for a few people. Sadly, this was my favourite and least favourite shop. I brought cool things, but during my time there a man and a woman worked together to crowd around me and try to steal my stuff. They were pretty good at it, because it wasn’t until they’d followed me round the shop a bit that my bag made any noise and I checked it to find the zip half open and my stuff rustled through. I didn't quite understand what was happening, and the same old doubts I've experienced with every dishonest activity in Italy reared up again. So - instead of confronting them, I just put my backpack between my knees and stood defiantly above it glaring at anyone who came close. The two of them gave up shortly enough and left the shop.

I was pretty mad after that, so decided to stop shopping and just walk where all the tourists were going. This was an excellent decision, as I found myself at Piazza Venizia staring at the biggest monument I have ever seen. They’d had the pixies in again, so here is someone else’s pic of it:


Although the Piazza is named for the nearby Venitian embassy, it is way more famous for this monument to Vittorio Emmanuel II (the first king of a united Italy). Some people have described it as pompous, but I just like it.

Having taken a while to really be excited by Roma, the Piazza is actually the first sight I have felt awed by, and (combined with the Trevi the night before) my Roman tourist experience is actually starting to feel meaningful. Overall, I think that Roma is an infuriating but necessary city, and it is only by being here in person that I can actually comprehend the scale of the civilization to which New Zealand is but a very, very distant heir.

After a bit of sitting and looking, and in a contemplative mood, I headed back to the hostel to meet my well-rested girly. For some reason the vigil in the hostel foyer made me feel happy again – a nice touch in a sometimes rough and dishonest city:


Even more happily, Lucy was very ready to hit the sights, and two girls with smiles on faces headed out to our last Roman afternoon…

All Roman, all the time! - Part Two

After leaving the Vatican, Lucy and I took the Metro to Piazza del Popolo. The Piazza marks the first place in old Roma seen by people entering from the north. There are two wonderful churches side by side, and between these is Via Del Corso – which we used to meander our way south and into the newer, old part of Roma. This is Roma’s poshest street – full of Armani, Tiffanys, Berlusci, Dior and Chanel. It was divine stuff, but it made me feel very shabby in comparison.

Fortunately, it all lead up to another tourist mecca that was full of equally well-worn travellers. The Spanish Steps were very pretty, but I am not exactly sure what all the fuss is about:


The fountain of a sinking ship at the bottom was interesting:


And, Lucy and I managed to take a good shot of our happy selves:


A quick walk from there, we ticked off the Trevi Fountain – which turned out to be my favourite spot of all Rome. It was too late for tourists with families, so we got to enjoy the relative quiet and there was plenty of room to line up and throw coins over our shoulders. We threw E2, just to make sure we’d return soon.

My camera can’t show how gorgeous this spot is, but here’s a wee glimpse of it at night:


We actually returned a few days later to check if it looked as good in daylight. Here’s a pic from elsewhere that shows what we saw:


After hanging out by the fountain a bit longer, Lucy and I succumbed to the mood lighting and were persuaded to eat at an 'authentic' restaurant nearby. It was fairly average, but proved to be necessary fuel as all sorts of transport complications meant we got home at least an hour later than we intended.

Thus, our first big day in Rome fell to an end after a massive sightseeing and travelling effort. Go team!

All Roman, all the time! - Part One

Wonderfully, thankfully, surprisingly and fortunately our Rome hostel was everything I was hoping for. Our room had ceramic tile floors, a Juliet balcony, exquisite cotton bedding and a next-door-neighbour who plays beautiful piano in the afternoon. It was the perfect base for our biggest city – and I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Feeling a bit run down, Lucy and I took Roma very slowly in the beginning. So, not much happened in the first two days except me somehow spending E15 (that’s $NZ30 people!) talking to my mother for 7 minutes… although it was very nice to hear her voice.

By the third day it was time to put our tourist shoes back on and take on the city. I had decided the Sistine Chapel was first on the list, so (believing everything I had heard about the long waiting times) we got up at 6am to start queuing outside at 8am. Our queue started moving at 10am and we finally got in at 11am - phew!

Having made it inside comparitively early, we weren't in any real rush and could take the time to explore the collections. Our first stop in the Egyptian rooms was fairly cool and unusual. Not only were there various sorts of sarcophagi, organ jars and tomb ornaments, but I got to see an unwrapped mummy. It was very creepy.

Further into the classical collections it started getting a little more ordinary – not least because Americans are walking around eating food and dropping crumbs. The weirdest thing is that some statues have plaster leaves over their genitals. I heard a guide say this is Pope Benedict’s idea, and it seems an unnecessary step to me – especially when the colour and texture ruins the unity of the piece:


Even stranger is that not all willies are so censored – I can only speculate as to why, but it does seem to be only the sculptures that are less… shall we say, grand… that are untouched.

Most people forego the initial part of the complex, so moving on from the Greek and Roman wonders is the first time we really struck a crowd. But, from the start of the galleries until the Chapel at the end it is an unremitting lemming line. Careful not to step onto anyone’s heels, and cautious of all the tourists behind me, I managed to sneak in a shot from the map gallery. This room was one of my favourites (yep, that's gold on the ceiling):


Slowly but surely, the art gets more and more solemn, the light gets gloomier, and the air thickens with anticipation as we journey into the bowels of the Pope’s private quarters. The Raphael Rooms are four communicating parlours painted by the master over ten years until his death in 1520. The paintings are astonishingly good, and massive – I was so lucky my non-flash photos show them up:


After almost three hours of touristing it was actually a relief to enter the Chapel. Up until then I was expecting to enter a cathedral – so I couldn’t believe how small it was and (consequently) how full:


(I wonder if anyone else in that photo is thinking how ironic it is that the Chapel staff use loudspeakers to inform everyone to be quiet?)

I think that, in this modern age, the quality of the paintings is somewhat lost because people are used to seeing realistic images of people (e.g. in photos) – one needs to actively pay attention to Michelangelo’s groundbreaking perfections in draperies, anatomy, perspectives and shading to understand why the Chapel is truly great.

After a few minutes trying to be contemplative amongst the bustle, Lucy and I decided to leave. We left through a gate not unlike the one in the library at Alcatraz only to discover I had left my journal somewhere along the route. We had a ‘fun’ time trying to explain to a billion security personnel what was lost and eventually they just plopped us at the beginning of the galleries and told me to find it myself – which meant Lucy and I got to see the whole thing again.

We emerged triumphantly with journal in hand and (blinking furiously from the sunlight) decided to grab lunch before we melted. After that we headed around the corner to see St Peter’s Basilica:


This was a fairly average tourist spot, and since the queue to see inside the church was enormouuuuuus, we just sat in the sun for a bit before wandering off for more fun. There were heaps of shops around and I fought hard the temptation to buy my very own Pope:



From there we headed east on the Metro towards the more modern part of the City. Adventures therein, I will leave for next time...

Oh my gosh - Pompei !!!

An exciting day started very strangely - Whilst using the bathrooms at the Salerno train station I caught the attention of a peeping tom. Had I been quicker off the mark, I would have known I was well within my rights to kick him in the face. As it was, I just thought this was some weird Italian way of checking if stalls are occupied. Either way it was fairly distressing, and it wasn’t until we were well on our way to Pompei station that I started to relax.

It was easy to tell we were in the right place – there were plenty of tourists milling around. Unlike most of the stops along the way there was a much broader cultural representation here – not just Americans this time. But it still meant Lucy and I had to push our way through throngs of slow moving people. And avoiding the same old beggars.

Dianne had given us her Pompei guidebook, and I had been a smarty with my Lonely Planet to work out an itinerary starting from the less-used Porta Nucola entrance at the eastern end of the complex. Thus, we only had to wait half an hour to get in.

Since this was (yet another?) of my must-see-in-my-lifetime spots I took plenty of photos during our visit, and I think they capture the place better than my words can. But, I’ll give both a try!

We started on the outskirts of the city, on an old residential street. The arches running along the building are for busts of the wealthy merchant owners so everyone will know how fancy and cool they are:


From there we headed towards the main street, Via dell’Abbondanza, and made our way westwards. We were aiming to get to the Basilica and Grand Forum at the other end, but there were plenty of interesting artefacts along the way. This is one of the frescoes:


By now we had seen amazing clusters of shops and villas. There were wonderful garden courtyards and lots of mysteriously empty buildings. Lucy was having a love affair with columns, so we got plenty of shots of those as well:


Unfortunately, we had somehow forgotten to bring food along to keep our energy up – and the heat and distance was taking its toll. Because once you leave the complex you cannot return, we found ourselves moving at some sort of observantly speedy pace to try and see as much as we could before we had to escape to eat. Fortunately, we stumbled across Pompei’s one and only 'food' outlet just before the Western exit and bought microwaved pizza and an awful hotdog for the price of a three course meal being sold just 500 metres away.

Anyway, having covered a massive distance in our hungriness, we had crossed from the merchant and entertainment sector to the political and religious quarter. This is where the most breathtaking buildings would have been, and provided some of the best views. My favourite vista has to be standing beside the Basilica, looking across the Forum to the Temples of Apollo and Jupiter and seeing guilty old Mt Vesuvius sitting behind:


At this stage, we’d spent five hours negotiating endless cobbled streets, seemingly identical street corners and a guidebook that didn’t match the current signposting. It was incredibly hard work, and I couldn't believe it when we kept passing woman after glamorous woman exploring in high heels!! Anyway, we decided against the northern section, and two very tired and unglamorous women headed back east to see one more thing. The Valley of the Fugitives strikes me as the whole point of the site:


It was really moving to see the human dimension of the devastation, and I thank goodness for the archaeology student who suggested to his superiors they pour plaster into the spaces left by bodies decayed over the hundreds of years since the volcano did its thing. I was struck silent by the testimony these figures offer, and it was a fitting last stop on our exploration.

Overall, Pompei was exciting and mysterious. I want to go back and see the things we missed in the northern half - such as the brothel frescoes, the Villa of the Mysteries and the House of the Great Altar. If (when?) I go back I will ignore the Lonely Planet and join everybody else at the main entrance. This is closer to the Forum etc, and I think makes a much better starting point than where we began – not least because the signposts assume everyone starts there.

Also, I’d pack a Moro bar or two.