Day tripping: Giverny.

Giverny is a small village in Normandy that is famously the home to Monet’s garden; the ‘backyard’ he designed himself to be his subject matter. Aspects of the space are the inspiration of many of his most popular works. I’ve been wanting to visit Monet’s garden at Giverny for a long time. I studied the impressionists as a wide-eyed 10 year old, and although Degas was my favourite (and what 10 year old girl wouldn’t love him? He painted my favourite things, ballerinas and ponies), I was always very interested in Monet; I find his realistic style and the subsequent fading of it fascinating. I love the way he understands light. Maybe I didn’t understand why I liked that as a 10 year old, but I get it now. 18 years later I was able to see many of his greatest paintings at an exhibition in Melbourne called ‘Monet’s Garden’;  no prizes for guessing the subject matter. The exhibition showcased many of his works, but the focus was on the garden as his inspiration. I loved the exhibition and I knew that if it was possible I would love to see where the genius found his stimulus.

Some of the colours of Monet’s garden.

The day began with a train ride from Paris to the Normandy town of Vernon. From here it is 5ks to Giverny.  Shunning the tourist shuttle bus, we hired a bike and after my partner in crime taught me to stay upright and turn right (something that has alluded me since the late 90s) in the train station car park, we rode on the old railway line through beautiful French country-side.  Cows, hills and tiny houses under a grey sky made for a beautiful picture. It was a relaxing ride despite my constant fear of running over small children and animals.

Along the bike path.

Once you are in Giverny it is quickly apparent that there is not much going on, except Monet-related tourism. The epicentre of the town is Monet’s house and garden which is on ‘Rue de Claude Monet’, the fancy French way of saying Claude Monet street. Again proving my theory that everything sounds better in French. Along the street are small art galleries that sell works from artists who have come to the town to be inspired, cafés, a gallery dedicated to impressionism (I’ll get to that later) and of course, the house and garden itself.

Our bikes in Giverny.

Stepping into Monet’s garden is like walking into one of his paintings. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s the only way I can think of to describe the overwhelming mish-mash of bright colours you see and the way the light and shadow reflects on the water. The garden beds are awash with colours. Sometimes, like-tones can be found, like a range of purples and pinks or reds and oranges will be in the same bed. In other cases there are spaces where there is a rainbow of colours in an area. The famous waterlily pond and Japanese bridge can be accessed by a tunnel under the road that was clearly a bit quieter in Monet’s time. Monet spent a lot of his time studying this area and the garden here was the muse for a range of amazing works. The beauty of the spot is incredible, especially when the sun shines down and the reflection shines up from the water. It is a strange phenomenon being in a place you’ve seen so many times in photos, it is stranger to be somewhere you’ve only seen in paintings. Here, you can pick out even the smallest pockets of the garden that were used in Monet’s works, which is a special thing to be able to say. The waterlilies were not out, but it didn’t really matter. The garden still managed to dazzle the senses.

Lilies and bridges.

The house itself housed many pieces of art. Some of Monet’s works hung on the walls of his study and his extensive Japanese print collection hung everywhere else. The foundation that maintains the house has tried to leave as much of it in place as possible to reflect how it looked when Monet lived there. There is evidence of that from a small photo on display in the house of Monet in his kitchen in front of 4 vases all lined up on the mantle with prints of all shapes and sizes hanging above it. When you enter the kitchen those 4 vases are still sitting on the mantle and those same prints are hanging above it. It was a nice touch.

Monet’s house.

A short walk up the road from the garden there is a gallery dedicated to impressionism. Although there are some interesting works there, including a great temporary exhibition on the birth of impressionism in America, there is only about 30 minutes of gallery to explore. There was also only 4 Monet pieces; even the room named after him had only one of his works in there.  It was not as fulfilling as I would have liked.

The trip to and from Vernon on the train was easy, the bike ride was a fun (and after the disaster that was trying to ride in Barcelona, a personal triumph) and above all Monet’s garden was as pretty as a picture. Literally.

Madrid: The end of a mad ride in Spain.

Madrid is historic, grimy, urban, classical and still pumping at 4 in the morning.

Palacio Real de Madrid – Home to the Royal Family of Spain

Our Spanish adventure is drawing to a close with a visit to its capital city, Madrid. A not-so-sprawling metropolis with loads of old world charm and the seedy side and grime you’d expect from a large city. The people are busy. The architecture is grand. The billboards are impossibly large. The Burger Kings are in abundance.  However, Madrid has combated most of that big city grime through the creation of many gorgeous public spaces, distinctive and classical buildings and a lifestyle that encourages locals to be out and about living their lives in the spaces of the city.

The streets of Madrid.

Walking through the inner-city district of Sol was a colourful experience. The streets are confusing but can be navigated. The street signs are gorgeous painted tiles with a drawing that alludes to what the street was named after. The buildings are mostly charming Spanish apartment blocks, with souvenir shops and places to eat at street level. There are actually places to eat everywhere and we have been spoiled for choice with Tapas (La Cueva del Gato was my favourite), cafes, restaurants and bars everywhere you look. People seem to be eating, drinking and socialising at all times of the day and night, except the morning, I don’t think Spain does the AM when the sun is up.  A short walk from our hotel is kilometre zero, Puerta de Sol, which was swarming with crowds, students hanging out around the fountain, break-dancers performing, hawkers and people in costumes like Mickey Mouse, Sponge Bob, Bart Simpson and even Chucky, who would let you have a photo with them for a tip, essentially a more up-market way to beg. Speaking of which, the only real issue I’ve had here has been dealing with beggars and hawkers. Because of the size of Madrid there was bound to be more people living on the fringes. However, the begging here has been more forceful and therefore harder to ignore. I’m finding it really difficult to see people at their lowest point and turn away from them with a shake of the head and ‘No gracias’. A woman with tears in her eyes wailing at the top of her lungs shoved her used coffee cup in my face while I was eating lunch. It was distressing to see her in so much agony; I’m very conflicted by the whole thing. How do I decide who is more worthy of my change? Is it her because she is crying or is it the man on the corner who has written out a sign on an old bit of cardboard or is it the 5 other beggars we passed on our walk? A man approached us while we were eating dinner to sell lighters, and when we politely told him no, he started yelling at us in Spanish. Not the world’s best sales pitch. I know it is a much wider social issue but I guess I’m just not sure how to deal with seeing so many people who have fallen on hard times.

Puerta del Sol.

There are so many beautiful public spaces. Squares or ‘Plazas’ and lush and elegant public gardens and parks with fountains and monuments attract people to meet and hang out which creates a great buzzing vibe in these areas of the city. Plaza De Mayor is lined with restaurants, caricaturists and people pretending to be statues. Plaza de Espana is lit up beautifully at night, so beautifully in fact we saw a couple get engaged under the monument in the centre as we walked through one night. Jardines Ferraz is a hill-top park that is home to a stolen Egyptian tomb that sits on a refletive pool. Jardines de Sebastian offers views of the palace whilst you are surrounded by marble sculptures. But the park to end all parks is the stunning Parque del Buen Retiro. The former royal garden, now a giant public park, is a place to escape the city and enjoy some quiet under the lush canopy. We walked around the park for hours, hiring a boat to paddle around the Estanque (that’s man-made lake to you and me), exploring the buildings, like the Palacio de Cristal, a building made almost entirely out of glass and admiring the many artworks and fountains in the area. Amazingly, the place was busy with joggers, tourists, young families, roller bladers, personal training groups and canoodling couples, but it still remained quiet, relaxing and gorgeous looking. Strolling around these public spaces you quickly learn that the people-watching opportunities are endless. As they are down the ‘main street’, Gran Via. The street runs east to west across the heart of the city; it is lined with tall buildings (note, not skyscrapers or stuff you’d expect in a CBD) that wrap around the edges of street corners with gentle curves and are often topped with bronzed statues with wings. It is bustling on both the road and footpath. There a several McDonalds/Burger Kings/ KFCs stores located just metres from the last one. This place feels like a major city that is both moving forward but keeping its roots showing.

 

Monument to King Alfonso XII from our boating expedition on the Estanque.

We enjoyed some of Madrid’s cultural side by gallery hopping and seeing some amazing art. We began by seeing a Pixar exhibit we missed while it was on in Melbourne at an exhibition space called the Caixia forum. This gallery features a vertical garden that is 4 stories high. It was so interesting to look at. We visited the Museo Nacional del Prado, not so much a museum in the traditional sense, but instead a museum for art. They have a vast collection that features historical painting, royal portraits and medieval and Renaissance paintings. Works here are as old as the 1100s. Seeing artworks by painters I already love is an amazing thing, I got to see art from Ruebens whose work I admire; but I really like going to a Gallery and discovering something new. Here it was the work of Spanish artists El Greco, Velazquez and Goya, who I had not heard of before that caught my eye. Especially Goya’s so-called ‘Black paintings’ that were horrifying and beautiful. After our visit to the Picasso museum in Barcelona it was fitting that we complete the full Picasso journey by visiting the Reina Sofía, home to his most famous work, Guernica. It is nothing short of stunning. Large, grey and brutal. I spent minutes looking at only small sections, the hands, the horse’s face and the faces of the people that are screaming in agony because to take in the whole thing was possibly too much. The gallery also had many other of Picasso’s work and several pieces by that other famous Spaniard, Salvador Dalí, who I don’t really get, but like all the same. Also, luckily for me, in a quiet corner of the museum, tucked away from all the crowds was the work of one of my favourite photojournalists, Roberto Capa. It was nice and unexpected to see his amazing photographs of the Spanish civil war. In fact, much of the gallery itself was dedicated to reactions to war and the scar that the civil war has left on the people here.

The vertical garden at the Caxia Forum.

Madrid has been a good place to experience the more stereotypical things that people think of when they think of Spain, namely Flamenco. We went to a Flamenco show at a venue that specialises in the art, Las Tablas Nuevo Espacio Escenico. The performers were so impressive; keeping time with intricate clapping patterns, playing the guitar with immense skill and stomping and dancing with intense passion. The costumes were beautiful and traditional. It was an amazing show and a definite highlight for me. They were all excessively talented. We followed up our flamenco show with a pub crawl with the group that we went to the show with where we attempted some of the moves ourselves- needless to say we were not so crash-hot. On our night out we discovered that the Spaniards love to party and the bars and clubs are in full swing at that time because no-one goes out before 1am (which makes sense considering none of them are having dinner until 10pm at the earliest). Despite it being a Sunday night, a night I traditionally enjoy from my couch under a blanket, some of the bars we went to were so packed you couldn’t walk from one side to the other. Madrid’s legendary nightlife was a mix of laser lights, strobe and thumping beats. I had plenty of “I’m too old for this” moments, but it was still good fun.

Flamenco.

A good friend who travelled around Europe last year gave me some sage advice, she said “Don’t be afraid to take a day off”. After travelling for a bit over a month, I took the opportunity to have one of these ‘days off’, which I know sounds strange but I think is important if you want to remain fresh and interested. This means we took some time to do some regular stuff, like going to the movies. Cinema Princesa specialises in ‘VOS’ films, that means ‘Versión Original Subtitulada’ or films in English with Spanish subtitles. After our pub crawl night, this was the perfect remedy to relax and rest our tired ‘what do you mean we got home at 5am?’ bones. We saw Noé (Noah) with my main man, Rusty Crowe (who is nailing it in everything I see him in lately), ate tacos and dissected the hidden meanings of the film. Very much like home, but still a fun thing to do here.

Yay! Ponies!

Madrid is a vibrant city. It features all the things I have really liked about Spain and more. It has the big city bravado, the culture, the elegance, the nightlife, and the food all covered. A perfect way to end our time in beautiful Spain.

Seville: OK, so two outsiders walk into a religious festival…

Seville is devoted, static, scorching hot, festive and really, really, ridiculously good-looking.

Plaza de España.

I feel like I have had a good grasp on the locations I have been so far. I have understood the vibe of the cities I have stepped foot in, I’ve got to know them as well as I could over the time I have spent in them. I have been a traveller and a tourist, snapping my pics, speaking bad and very limited Spanish and Italian and soaking it all in like a big ol’ sponge. At the end of the visit when I put together my blog I try to capture the essence of what I have experienced, the good and the bad. Despite doing all of this, Seville remains a mystery to me. Writing this entry has been difficult because I really don’t know what to say about this place. It’s the opposite of my Barcelona writer’s block; instead of being afraid my overwhelmed senses would mean I couldn’t express the true nature of what I had seen, in this case I feel I may have missed what Seville is all about because my visit here has been dominated by the Semana Santa festival.

Iglesia del Señor San José.

Seville looks good. Really good. It is a beautiful place, with stunning architecture, sweeping plazas, lush public gardens and a lovely waterfront on the city-side by it’s river. My favourite place here has been Parque Maria Luisa, a public park that features waterfalls, fountains, statues and hedge-lined rose gardens. We wandered around there in a search for shade, drank slushies and were amazed that swans do indeed also come in white. The location was gorgeous and the park serves as an oasis from the two main roads that it is nestled between. Another great looking space was the Plaza de España which wowed me with it’s mosaic tiled ground, large fountain and semi-circle pavilion building flanked by two towers, all surrounded by a moat that could only be crossed using the ornate bridges or circumnavigated by row-boat hire. It was easily one of the most beautiful plazas, piazzas or squares I have ever seen. It was simply stunning. I madly snapped my camera at nearly everything in the place.

Parque Maria Luisa.

The lifestyle is still relaxed and oh-so Spanish, Tapas, beer and sangria are again the order of the day and people enjoying meals al fresco creates a buzzing atmosphere on the streets. In some areas of ‘Centro’ the festival of food and drink never seems to end. The old town has charming winding back-alleys to get lost in, we are staying in a quiet guest house that seems to have been here for 100s of years and we have even started eating dinner at 10pm like real Spaniards. But, alas, it hasn’t left me feeling a connection to the city.

The streets of Seville.

As I mentioned in my last blog, Semana Santa is a week long religious festival of hooded Hermadads taking to the streets in full Medieval church regalia, walking from their church to the cathedral and back carrying life-sized statues of bible scenes and holy relics. We saw the beginnings of the festival in Granada, but the scale of the occasion is much bigger here in Seville. I may just be me living under a rock, but I had no idea we were going to be here during this festival. Call it poor research on my part, but when I looked up the dates for those classic festivals like La Tomatina or the running of the bulls, I didn’t come across anything about Semana Santa. It has simply dominated our thoughts and time on this trip. The processions have cut off streets and even our path to get away from it all to our room at the guesthouse. I have tried to make sense of the timetable, but I can’t, meaning hearing the bang of the drums, the sounds of the crowd and seeing all those pointed hoods when it is way too late is the way we find out where the procession is going. On our first night as we searched dinner and a place to watch the soccer (seemingly our new favourite past time) we were caught in the middle of two processions running parallel to each other and were unable to get out until the hundreds of Hermadads proceeding and carrying the relic went past (We did make it to a tapas bar about 30 minutes later where I chowed down on the famed Iberian ham and we watched Real Madrid beat Barcelona 2-1). Despite my whinging, being here at this time has given me a whole new understanding of Easter and what it means to people. In Australia this time of year is a commercial experience- chocolate bunnies, hot cross buns and cream eggs occupy my thoughts, not sacrifice, reverence and devotion like it does for the people here. It has been great to see it, but being here at this time hasn’t allowed for the visit I was expecting. Sights are closed and some areas of the city resemble ghost towns, not a part of a thriving and buzzing city. That being said, there is nothing that quite prepares you for seeing one of the hooded hermadads trying to catch a bus, having a cheeky drink at a bar or casually walking to and from the parades with their families. It still gives me a little jolt.

Semana Santa

Seville does not have Barcelona’s artistic edge or Granada’s quirky charm, or maybe it does, but I couldn’t see it through the monstrous crowds of people, the spectacle, and to be honest, the hassle that was being here during a major festival. By not being involved or invested in what the parade is actually about we have not been able to get to know the place very well. Despite this, I am glad I got to see a couple of the processions and be involved in what is a very important tradition of the Andalusian people. A once in a lifetime experience. So instead, perhaps, I have gotten to know Semana Santa, not Seville. The place has got plenty of style, but I feel a void when describing its substance.

Granada: Do you like missing Alhambra and getting caught in parades?

Granada is quirky, artistic, multicultural, varied and belly-filling.

Granada from Albayzin.

Granada is a city with a youthful spirit and an artistic soul. The streets are paved with mosaic styled stones and public spaces feature beautiful art and statues. Spending time here means sitting outside at bars and cafes drinking sangria and eating tapas with the seemingly endless waves of students and young backpacker types. The city has much to offer in a very small space. It is also heavily influenced by Middle Eastern and North African culture. Some of the streets are wall to wall Shawarma shops (their awesome and superior version of a kebab), Middle Eastern food and tea shops. The streets smell of the hashish and are filled with students smoking, drinking tea and laughing loudly. Walk for a couple of minutes and then you’ll hit a spacious and leafy public park. Walk another few and you’ll be amongst old villas and churches. Walk up the hill and you’ll find yourself in the Muslim quarter, Albayzine, which seems to have been taken over by folks with a penchant for dreadlocks and fisherman pants. All with snow-capped mountains in the distance and the imposing Alhambra on the hill above. It is a beautiful city.

El Campo del Príncipe.

My favourite facet of the artistic side of the city are the buildings that are covered in amazing street artworks, not just horrible tags. We spent an afternoon following the trail of a graffiti artist known as “Sex”, Raul Ruiz. His life-like human faces and animals decorate many walls of the city. I particularly liked his portrait of The Clash’s Joe Strummer that sits on a wall next to ‘Placeta Joe Strummer’. Apparently when Joe had enough of the UK, he and his Spanish lady-friend would hang out in this area of Granada. The square is a tribute to him, as is Sex’s portrait.

Joe Strummer by ‘Sex’

It is also a place of tradition. I have quite a bad habit of booking my holiday only to find myself in the middle of a significant religious or cultural festivals- my last trip to Thailand was in the middle of Songkran weekend, so I got soaked and had a face full of chalk for my trouble. Needless to say it was amazing fun. In Granada it is holy week, or as it is known to the locals, Semana Santa, this week. Starting with Palm Sunday parades of hooded Hermadads (brothers) taking to the streets in full Medieval church regalia walking from their church to the cathedral carrying enormous statues, mostly of Jesus and The Virgin Mary, and holy relics. They are joined by children, marching bands playing somber tunes and women in traditional Spanish costumes carrying gigantic candles. It seemed the whole town was out for the parades and there were people everywhere; they were lined up 5 deep for hundreds of meters. I thought the crowd would thin when I found out it wasn’t a one night thing, but it seems people are out for the event every night of the week. At one point we were on our way back to the hostel when we found ourselves completely stuck on street corner and unable to move as men in green pointy hats carried a massive statue of The Madonna, covered in candles and flowers. But that is unsurprising, as writer Miguel de Unamuno wrote “Here in Spain we are all Catholics, even the Athiests”. It was an interesting experience to be amonsgst the locals for a festival that is not dominated by outsiders, but, honestly it wasn’t really my cup of tea. Not enough water fights.

Semana Santa

We’ve spent some time indulging in the city’s night-life. In Granada most bars will give you tapas with every drink, so a little snack to go with your beer or Tinto de Verano (red wine and lemonade on ice). The food isn’t amazing, but it has satisfied our hunger pangs while waiting to have the traditional late Spanish dinner at about 10pm. Another practice here I haven’t seen before is the bartender giving you a free drink after you’ve had a few rounds in their bar. We went to a bar called ‘Gotham’, a Batman-themed dive with a lively foosball (known as futbolín) table and 90s punk pumping out the speakers. After a couple of rounds the bar tender wandered over with shot glasses and poured 3 shots, 2 for us and one for him, he said something in Spanish, we nodded, we said something in English, he nodded; we all walked away with no idea what went on. He did it again later with a cocktail with absinthe for us. Needless to say, we nursed some sore heads in the morning. No green fairies though.

The Alhambra.

Much to my disappointment, the area and Spain’s top tourist attraction The Alhambra is sold out for a month. Of course we didn’t stumble across this bit of information until we went to buy tickets, this was about the same time we realised every man and his dog was in town for Semana Santa. No ticket means we missed seeing the inside Alcazilos (the fort), Nasrid (the palace) and Generalife (the gardens). At first I was really annoyed by this, how could we come all the way here and not see it? It seemed mad. Until, that was, we started to explore other areas of the Alhambra hill. We visited a gorgeous vineyard and gardens of Carmen de los Martires, which featured great views of the Alhambra, the city and those snow capped mountains and we were given a tour of painter José María Rodríguez-Acosta‘s studio he built that features an extensive sculpture garden, underground caves and a collection of artworks and archaeological artifacts. I think I’m learning valuable lessons about the fact that you can’t do everything, but you’ve got to make the stuff you do worthwhile. I loved what we have seen and given we only had 3 days here we have filled the time well.

Rodríguez-Acosta Foundation house.

I have really enjoyed how varied Granada has been. Traditional but artistic, European but Middle Eastern; it is a complex city and thoroughly enjoyable. Even without setting foot in the Alhambra.

Barcelona: It must have been love.

Barcelona is colourful, vibrant, expensive, alternative and my favourite city so far.

The Fountain in Park de la Ciutadella

I’m not the most romantic soul; in fact, I have been accused of being a cynic more than once. But now, I believe in love at first sight, because that is exactly how I feel about Barcelona. As we arrived from the airport after a flight from Naples and the city began to emerge, I just stared out the window of our cab, smiling. Barcelona is beautiful, interesting, clean, well-planned and full of charm. The seemingly constant sunshine also adds to the perfect picture. Initially, I thought this may well be a case of post-Naples fever, wherein the sufferer finds everything they see after visiting dirty ol’ Naples to be beautiful and clean. However, this is not the case; I have only grown in admiration for Barcelona in the week we have been here. I actually found this entry the hardest to write of all so far (a whopping 5 blog posts!) because so much of what I love about here is the atmosphere, which is quite hard to convey in the written form.

Barcelona’s beach

Confession: I had little prior knowledge of this place. Unlike Rome, which I felt I already knew a lot about, I had naught but a passing interest in the work of Gaudi and some odd stories from travelling friends in my Barcelona basket of preconceptions. This has been a blessing.We’ve been able to discover it’s amazing architecture, parks and plazas and vibrant atmosphere by losing the map and dodging through the backstreets and into different districts. We’ve seen so much just by wandering aimlessly. It is a city designed for the pedestrian, public transport user, driver and cyclist to live in perfect harmony; the traffic chaos of Italy is now long forgotten. We have been walking everywhere and it has been the perfect way to get around. We have visited the port area, the beach, the Park de la Ciutadella, La Rambala, the districts of L’Eixample and Sant Anoni, the parks on Muntanya de Montjuic, the markets and the old town, which all feel like they could all belong to different cities, but they are still perfectly Barcelona.  Don’t get me wrong, Barcelona is more than just a pretty face. Alternative culture bubbles away in the side streets, particular around Carrer de Taller, which is lined with record stores, vintage clothing shops and has young disaffected youth sporting their best Megadeth t-shirts in its bars and eateries. We loved strolling up and down here and watching the people and perusing the stores. In other areas of town there are also some fun places that match the Barcelona rock-n-roll spirit; like The Cat Bar, a vegan burger bar with artisan beers on tap was a great place to eat, drink and chill out that perfectly fits that aesthetic.

El Raval

Many of the days have been spent sightseeing in the morning and early afternoon, sitting on the hostel’s terrace in the late afternoon during ‘siesta’ and venturing back out in the evening and night for more sight seeing, food and drink. This lovely slow pace has meant we have seen a lot and also been able to rest up. I feel rejuvenated by the lifestyle here. Not only that, we’ve been indulging in one of my favourite past times, eating. We’ve been filling up on tapas, pinchos (the tapas on bread with a toothpick in them), thin baguettes called ‘bocadillos’ filled with jamon or potato omelette, paella and local beers. There is much more variety than we found in Italy and the vegetarian option for my partner in crime has had much more to do with vegetables. The highlight has been an amazing Catalan Cream I had at the tapas bar where scenes from Woody Allen’s ‘Vicky Christina Barcelona’ was filmed, ‘Taller de Tapas’. This is the the local version of a crème brûlée. it was superb. Oh yes, my sweet tooth truly is out of control.

Arc de Triumf

The city is mad about it’s team, FCBarcelona. Messi and his boys feature in billboards, posters, TV ads and the many, many official merchandise stores across the city. So when they played in a final against cross-country rivals Atlético Madrid on a night we were here, the natural thing to do was go find ourselves a TV and watch it unfold. I’m not going to pretend I know much about soccer, I come out of the woodwork when Australia is in the World Cup, but otherwise I have to admit I’m not really excited by the sport. But suddenly, after a couple of beers, I became some sort of soccer expert, discussing defensive errors, yellow card decisions and ooh-ing and ahh-ing in all the right places. It was great fun. We watched the game in a little fan bar called La Taverna, it holds 90 people, and I think on this night all 90 and then some were in there. Here, the staff all wear the jersey, they sing songs, they pump in chants over the loud speakers, they sell buckets of 5 beers for 12 Euro and EVERYONE is going for Barça. This is unfortunate, considering that they lost 1-nil on this night. Oh well, I’m used to backing the losing team (I love you, Carlton).

Plaça de Catalunya

We have had some very cultured experiences too. After seeing Batlló house on our first city walk i sat down and designed a DIY walking tour of some Gaudi and ‘Modernisme’ works. It is an interesting movement and it pushes boundaries that I have never really seen in architecture before, but that being said, I am no expert. We also walked to La Sagrada Familia, Gaudi’s ultimate work. A church that they started building in 1882 and are yet to complete (they’re hoping for a 2028 finish). The project is now a delicate balance of building and restoring at the same time. It’s big, it’s gaudy (pun intended) and it’s a major icon of the city. I’m not sure I like it, but I know it’s interesting. We also took some time to visit the Picasso Museum which was an interesting retrospective of his career. I particularly liked seeing his earlier works and the temporary exhibition on the site that explored modern artists’ reactions to Picasso’s work. If you want to go to the Picasso museum don’t expect to see the seminal works, like Guernica, The Weeping Woman or the Les Demoiselles d’Avignon; however, there are still amazing pieces and I gained a really good understanding of his development as a painter and as an artist from the visit.

Sagrada Familia

The only down side to this place is that in certain parts it is excessively expensive. Food on La Rambla, the main tourist strip is really expensive. “Surprise, surprise, Ali” I hear you cry. The fortunate thing is that usually this can be rectified with a quick trip off the main drag, but sometimes in Barcelona that expensive price tag seems to bleed over into other areas too. It is also disconcerting to hear EVERYONE you speak to, from guides and hostel workers to fellow travellers talking about the rampant pick-pockets that seem to be making a killing on every tourist who steps onto the street. We have, luckily, not experienced this, but it is a bit of a turn off.

Public art by the beach

Gorgeous Barcelona is a gem. The city has so many of the elements that I love. The people are lovely, the place looks beautiful, it is artsy, creative and alternative. Listen to me gushing – it must be love.

Naples: Step back in time, but watch where you put your feet.

Naples is dirty, loud, raucous, unexpected and a decent base for exploring.

Pompeii.

We used Naples as a base to explore interesting sights in the area, like Pompeii, Vesuvius and Herculaneum. We haven’t spent a whole lot of time in Naples and have only done a few afternoon walks around to get a grasp of what the place is all about. My conclusion? It is an intense city; the place makes me uncomfortable, because I don’t know what to expect from it next. There is something going on everywhere you look: kids play soccer in a dead-end street; scooters whiz down pedestrian areas; men softly whisper “iPhone? iPad mini?” as you walk past; pornographic DVDs and magazines are on display front and center in street newsstands, large groups of people gather around TV screens on the street to watch the European Champions’ League; men and women strut down the street in outrageous and over-embellished fashions and animated conversations are constantly going on between locals. We fade into the crowd here and I don’t feel like as much of an obvious tourist as I have. The people don’t seem to be as affluent as they have in other areas we have been to, so the beggars beg a little harder and people actually demand tips (prior to which they had not). Naples is bustling and constantly moving. Luckily we got a grasp of Italian traffic in Rome, so walking out in front of a car hurtling towards you and hoping it stops is now par for the course. Naples is dirty. Graffiti tags fill almost every flat space, there is so much dog shit everywhere that your walk down the street resembles a game of hopscotch, a gust of wind picks up plastic bags that dance around your ankles and cigarette butts fill all the cracks in the cobblestones. A lot of stuff I read about this place has told me to look beyond the dirt and find Naples’s charm. Unfortunately, I have not been able to do that. In fact, I was turned off by it.

The streets of Naples.

But more importantly than all of that, believe the hype – the pizza is delicious. Seriously, it’s amazing. The hot tip is Da Michele Pizzeria’s margarita and marinara pizzas- the only two available toppings on the menu, and the only two they need!.

We caught the train to Pompeii’s amazing ruins and spent about 6 hours wandering around with our audio guides looking at what is left behind of the city destroyed by the eruption of Vesuvius in 79AD. The site is so well preserved; unlike the ruins of old Rome, which were pillaged by those wanting to build new Rome, Pompeii was preserved by layers of ash and pumice when it was a city on top of its game. You can see inside people’s homes and their gardens, as well as the city’s amphitheatre, bathhouses and temples. Highlights included the old theatre which could house 5000 of Pompeii’s residents and the house of the tragic poet, with the world’s first ‘beware of the dog’ sign, in mosaic no less. I really enjoyed Pompeii because it allowed me to feel like I had stepped back in time; however, there was something creepy about the place. Maybe it was that feeling of it being a massive graveyard. The plaster casts of Vesuvius’s victims in their final moments before death both fascinated and horrified me (if you haven’t heard of the Fiorelli process before, check out this explanation) It was like I was seeing something I had no right to see, a person’s last moment. Even though these casts are not the person, just the voids they left imprinted on the ash, it was still confronting. The only disappointing thing was many of the houses and sites (including the famous brothel) were closed for works, but that is par for the course when you visit a real archaeological site that needs maintenance.

A plaster cast of one of Pompeii’s residents as he faced the fury of Vesuvius.

Just a quick trip up the road is Herculaneum, the lesser known victim of Vesuvius in 79AD. Herculaneum is smaller and better preserved than Pompeii. The site includes wood, tiles and other natural matter that were lost in Pompeii excavations. A couple of hours in Herculaneum was plenty, but that is only based on it’s size. It is much smaller and is more of a portion of a village, rather than a city like Pompeii. A lot of the art work that adorned the walls is still there, the mosaics are better preserved and even some roofs and second and third stories remain in tact, giving a fuller picture of the way these people lived.

Herculaneum and Vesuvius.

After a visit to the ruins, the natural thing to do was to go to climb Mt Vesuvius, the cause of all that trouble. The volcano looms large over the area and was a constant presence as we explored the ruins and Naples itself. We climbed Vesuvius, but unfortunately as we climbed it it became painfully clear that we were inside a rain cloud. Needless to say we were not only soaked, but couldn’t see the view, the inside of the crater or even a metre in front of our faces. Not a fun walk, but we climbed up the whole way and no-one can take that away from us! The highlight of that trip was sitting in the van that took us to the volcano driving back down to Ercolano; we were soaked, grumpy and generally annoyed by the whole situation when the driver chucked on his favourite CD. The first track? That’s Amore. the second? Volare. Yes, just like the first time I heard someone say “Mama Mia” for real here (which was in Venice, by the way), I wanted to shout “it’s true!!!”, but I held it together.

The walk to the top of Vesuvius.

Naples and its surrounding archaeological sites mark the end of our Italian adventure. It certainly hasn’t been my favourite city, but the amazing historical places we have been able to visit while we were here have made it a worthwhile trip. A dear friend asked me if I “got my nerd on” in Pompeii, and the answer was a resounding, ‘heck yes’. And I loved it!

Rome: where the past catches up with you.

Rome is historic, bustling, cultural, extensive and confounding.

The view of Rome from the top of The Vittoriano building.

Visiting one of the great cities of the world is an interesting experience. When a place is written about, spoken about and committed to celluloid you suddenly have expectations of how it will be. Rome is more than that. It is more than Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck riding around on scooters. It is more than people using the saying “when in Rome…” incorrectly. It is more than ‘La Dolce Vita’. It is more than gladiators. It is much more than a pile of ruins. I, like many others, had an impression of Rome before I got off the train here. What I have learned is that it is hard to capture what Rome truly is; it is many parts to a puzzle. We have been in Rome for 6 and a half days and have still felt rushed. There is so much to see and do. My appetites for history, archaeology, art, culture, mythology, food and drink have all been sated, but I know I have barely scratched the surface of what ‘The Eternal City’ has to offer. The city of Rome is actually a big open-air museum. Ruins from ancient times slot in easily next to medieval churches, baroque fountains and Renaissance palazzos. Being here is like being in a living timeline and you step in and out of eras with the greatest of ease.

Around The Forum, all the eras are covered.

After failing to get into the Colosseum on our first day in Rome (Apparently some guy named ‘Obama’ was having a private tour at the time), we woke up bright and early and visited The Colosseum with a guide. He was a local with some good gags, and a real passion for both the era and defending the reputation of the Roman people. He also reminded me of Australian acting great, Anthony LaPaglia, so that’s not a bad thing. The building itself is momentous and awe-inspiring. Considering the state of some of the other ruins in the area it is also pretty well preserved. The roof collapsed and took a fair chunk of the floor and seating with it, leaving the space a shell of what it was. Also included in the ticket to the Colosseum is entry into Palatine Hill where the Emperors of the Roman empire lived in huge palaces with lush gardens and The Forum, a handful of ruins that were once the empire’s economic and political heart. All were extremely interesting, however, I’m not the world’s greatest visualiser and trying to imagine the ruins not being ruins was a little tough for me in parts. Nevertheless, the area itself and our guides made it a very interesting history lesson. In fact, the lesson was so interesting we went back to The Colosseum to explore the underground levels, and to The Forum to get a better look around, a couple of days later. We’ve also been museum-hopping, checking out artifacts and artwork from the Roman empire. We saw a great temporary exhibition called ‘Monsters’ about how mythological beings like the Minotaur, Sirens and Gorgons are represented in art. History is in abundance here and even the museums themselves are historical locations, like the national museum that specializes in ancient artifacts that happens to be in an old Roman bath house itself.

Inside the Colosseum.

Our trip to the Vatican was an interesting one to say the least. I have to say I didn’t love it; the place just didn’t sit well with me. This has very little to do with my status as a reformed catholic or my religious beliefs, but more to do with respect and the almighty dollar. We entered the Basilica and of course, I was awestruck by the gold, the marble, the artwork (including the more famous of Michelangelo’s Pietas), most of it stolen from the disbanded remains of the former Roman empire. Buildings like the Colosseum, the palaces and the forum helped build St. Peter’s and helped Roman people forget their past. Once inside it was hard to enjoy the moment. People were everywhere, jostling for position, pushing in and generally being rude to each other. Irregardless of the religion, any holy site is worthy of respect because it means something to people. Although practising religion is not something I do, I believe in people’s right to do it freely. So when I got shoved out of the way for a man to take a better picture of the embalmed body of a former Pope; when people who actually going to mass while we were there were being blocked by people taking selfies; and when I saw people hocking rosary beads for a euro and I Heart Papa Francesco tote bags for 20, I thought it was a bit too much. It ceased to be a special place, it was just an attraction. Maybe I’m a bit too sensitive (I have been accused of being too politically correct more than once), but I think a lack of respect really cheapened the experience. We also went to the Vatican museum. For me, it was purely to see the Sistine Chapel. To get to the chapel you must walk through the many Vatican art galleries and museum rooms, all curated and opened by different Popes for different reasons. The Vatican’s collection of art was extensive, impressive and considering similar works we have seen so far, very well preserved. The collection was a reminder of the power and influence of the church over centuries. I cannot fathom a figure that is even close to what the collection is worth. It housed everything from Etruscan antiquities to Pope-commissioned work by Dali. My neck hurt from looking up at the ornate ceilings painted with devotional art works and gilded (of course) in gold. That was probably another thing that didn’t sit so well, the extreme wealth of the church and the decadence of the space. The Sistine Chapel was amazing, no words I write here can do it justice. It must be seen to be fully appreciated. After missing seeing Pope Francis on Sunday (we were in the museum when he came out onto his balcony for a wave) we ventured back past the Vatican on Wednesday to see him address his flock of Pilgrims on our way to Italian film-maker Dario Argento’s little shop of horrors. We only stayed for a short amount of time. The crowd was immense and the atmosphere was much more positive.

The roof of one of the Vatican galleries.

Please disregard any previous comments I have made about how busy places have been. Florence, Cinque Terre and Venice have had nothing on Rome. There are people everywhere. In fact, I don’t think I have seen so many people than I have around the attractions here. Our obligatory coin toss into the Trevi fountain was completed  with hundreds of others, we fought phenomenal crowds to walk down The Spanish Steps, we shuffled through The Vatican museum with people boxing us in from all directions and we lined up – for everything. Even eating a gelato or grabbing pizza at our favourite pizzeria (Pizzeria della Secolo) was done with large groups of other people. But, this is to be expected. Rome is one of the great cities of the world and it turns it wasn’t just on my bucket list. It would be fabulous if it were some sort of ghost town, but then it wouldn’t be Rome!

The Trevi Fountain.

Actually, speaking of gelati I ate the best one I’ve ever had on our last lunch here. From a shop called ‘Romana’. They’ve been making gelati since the 1940s. I have never tasted better and I don’t know how one could possibly taste better. I’m getting dreamy just thinking about it again.

Practising my Italian has fallen by the wayside too. Everyone speaks amazing English. Before the trip began I was warned about some Italians’ annoyance at having to speak English to tourists, but besides our airport shuttle driver in Venice (who threw his hands in the air in disgust when he spoke to a woman in Italian and she looked at him with confusion), this has not been the case. I’m trying to speak Italian where I can, but the fact that people actually say “hello” before “buongiorno” to us here is not helping my studies. I shouldn’t complain, based on an extremely half-arsed effort in my 4 years of study at school I really only know how to say hello, please, my numbers to 13, thank you, sorry and a few other choice phrases and helpful ingredients, so it is oh-so convenient when I don’t know the Italian word.

Statue of Castor and Pollux in Piazza del Quirinale.

One of the days here we were lucky enough to visit the Abruzzo village of Celano, where my paternal grandmother was born before her family emigrated. They migrated to Australia when she was a girl. Celano is a small town built into the side of a mountain. Up the top, a small castle looks down over the town of classic Italian villas. It is a beautiful place. Being in the place she was born was a wonderful experience. We walked around the town and ate some of the best food we have had on the trip in a small restaurant that served us homemade pasta and bread (and whose proprietors didn’t speak a word of English! Yay!). On this day, I felt connected to her and her memory in a way I haven’t for many years. Sadly, I was only 7 years old when she died, so although many of my memories of her have faded, she had such a larger-than-life personality that I can still vividly recall those aspects of her character that made her who she was. I still remember her kindness, her generosity of spirit, her ferocious love for her boys, The Carlton Football Club, her no-nonsense attitude and her warm smile. I hope I have inherited some of those qualities that made her so loved, especially by my Dad. Well, I know I definitely inherited her love for the Blues.

Celano, Abruzzo.

I don’t think this blog can sum up Rome, there is too much too it. Past and present Rome do not clash, they comfortably sit side by side and even compliment each other. We’ve seen ancient artifacts, horror museums, beautiful art, ruins, a pope, a US president, icons of history, film and literature all within the city boundaries. So, with my coin sitting in the bottom of the Trevi, hopefully I can return for another round and discover more on another ‘Roman Holiday’ one day.