Showing posts with label tree change. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tree change. Show all posts

Monday, 15 February 2016

Italy the land of food, booze and ATTITUDE


I realise that there is a chance that I'm going to sound like a wanker now when I say that we have a "Love / Hate relationship" with Italy, like "Oh you know darrrrling, I loved Sorrento but just couldn't staaaand the atmosphere in Positano".

I want you to know, My family and I are not pretentious wankers and over all we are up for any adventure being it 1 star "street food and sleeping bag" to 5 star "fragrant oils in the bath tub" experiences, but Italy for us was like a punch in the face with a beautiful satin glove, and very honestly, after about 10 rounds in the ring, Italy won by K.O and we never really recovered.

Our trip covered, Milan, Venice, Florence, Rome and Pisa with side trips to Sienna, Bologna, Napoli and Pompeii. A very well worn tourist route and for good reason. There is just so much history and amazing art to see, When we could we would tell the girls to "touch the history" because they had never even comprehended, let alone touched, anything that old before, and may not get to again. The richness of history and the beauty was evident in nearly everything,  but, it felt like we had to fight every step of the way in order to see these things. 

Firstly, there is the never ending construction and restoration. I am not arguing with the merit of these things , just our unlucky timing. Trevi fountain? nope, under construction and restoration. The Colosseum , half under scaffolding, The Spanish Steps, nope, restoration and scaffolding, Rialto Bridge? Nope under scaffolding. So OK, that's cool, lets enjoy some other sites.
Then we have the baffling and often intimidating rules and the guards that enforce them. When you deal with 100,000's of people a day, and priceless historical artifacts, I get it, you need to have security and rules, however it went a little something like this:

"Yes you may touch the water in the fountain and drink from it, NO! you may not do that if you are a child!"

"Yes you may sit on that patch of grass. NO! you may not sit on the identical patch of grass right next to it".

"Yes, you may lean on this railing. NO! you may not lean on the railing now, only after 3pm".

"Yes, this is the line for the such and such Museum. No! it's the line for the such and such pass holder, or for all people but only on Mondays and Fridays. No! there is no information on where you should line up but if you pay 200 Euro, Ill take you".

Look, this doesn't sound so bad, but when you are confronted by purple faced, whistle blowing and screaming officials, armed and in scary official uniforms and all you've done is perch your butt slightly to the right of where everyone else is perched, it gets a little confronting. So, OK, they are very busy and under stress, cool, lets catch some transport and see other things.

Italian bus drivers are interesting creatures. Firstly you must never assume that just because you found the correct bus stop, that it actually ever stops there. Secondly, you must never, ever talk directly to a bus driver, especially if that conversation is to do with the bus trip you are currently taking. If you do manage to get to your destination, you are then required to play a game of "guess which door you may exit the bus by". The buses have three doors, but they will only open 1 door for the exit and it is never the same one, forcing you to rugby tackle your way out of the bus. So, OK, lets take the train.

On some occasions, in a foreign country, you may need to ask for directions. We were polite, we smiled and asked in the best way we could, be  it in English or in broken Italian. This was met with eye rolling, some not subtle boob perving, followed by some pointing and general directions. "Thank you so much!" we say and off we toddle. After 4 attempts and 4 different answers, the best course of action was to preform a seance, call on the ghosts of our dead ancestors and allow them to guide us to the correct train platform. 

After all of this, we did stumble on a great solution. BOOZE, FOOD and MORE BOOZE! There is so much cheap and wonderful drinking options for your pleasure and there are no laws against public drinking, you are allowed to wonder down the street with a drink in hand, pretty much anywhere. Campari Spritzers in Milan, Prosseco in Florence, Wine and Limoncello in Rome and all of the above in Pisa. After we discovered this secret and with the edges nicely softened we were then able to be properly gob smacked and amazed, all be it a little head achy in the morning.







Thursday, 11 February 2016

2 deaths, 1 illness, 6 months, 7 countries, 2 kids, 1 hubby and a hippo



"Caroline? You had better sit down. Joe* was found dead last night, looks like he took his own life".
He had worked for/with me, a troubled man with a young family. I was a real estate agent and managing a small office, with a smaller team. I can't say I knew him well, but I tried to help him. I tried to see that he got back at least close to the rails if not on them.

I rang Dave and told him. I didn't feel responsible, but I did feel a little neglectful, like I had washed my hands of him, and now  a while down the track, this was the result. This was only a month or so after another man we knew through our work had died in a tragic accident, again leaving a young family behind.

"Wow, thats terrible, I found out today that Matthew* is really sick, he's only in his thirties! Fuck it life is too short for this! I think we should just bloody do it!" shouted Dave.

For about two days we had been talking about IT. You know the dream that you talk about animatedly with your significant other after a couple of glasses. For the first and probably the only time in our lives we had the borrowing capacity to pull IT off. You thought I was going to say, we had the money.... trust me.... we will never have the savings for a huge trip, let alone IT, but we had the potential to pull it off. The incentive? A good deal of "Lets get the fuck out of here" followed with a smidge of "We will probably never be close to being able to do this again".

So we did. 6 months of travel with our kids (two gorgeous girl firecrackers aged 7 and 8) to all the dream destinations we could think of.

Once the decision was made, and the bank paid up, next came the fight. Dave wanted to leave yesterday, now, immediately. I, on the other hand was working through the logistics, we had to clean up our house and find some people to rent it. Organise some sort of schooling for the girls. Give notice to work, pack, put the rest of our stuff in storage... plan, book and pay, break the news to my parents and friends. I thought we needed at least three months to get our selves organised. I put my foot down! 2 weeks later we were on the tarmac and that is how it all started.