Our hunt for a Room with a View – The final part and our recommendations for Tuscany

Lucca

Lucca and our recommendations for the Best of Tuscany

We left Levanto at the start of a hot, sunny day, saying goodbye to our charming hosts and backing out into the little lanes of the old town – an exercise that involved removing chain barriers and 2 locals guiding Tony around the corners in Italian.

On our way we drove passed the other side of the Cararra marble mines and the yards where the blocks of marble were stored, waiting to be shipped off around the world. The whole ridge looked as if a giant hand had been chipping away at it with a large chisel, so sheer were the cliffs.

Lucca was only a 90-minute drive down the autostrade and we were there in the blink of an eye. We parked the car just outside the old city walls near the train station and hired two single-speed bikes. We were very tempted by the tandems, but ended up taking turns talking each other out of them, and went for the solo single-speeds instead. They unfortunately had huge yellow signs on the front baskets with the name of the place where we hired them – Touristio Informatione – so it was glaringly obvious we were tourists and not locals as we peddled past. Looking back, I think letting our sensible sides win out was the wrong choice.

Our Touristio Informatione bicycles

Mum had insisted that we ride along the top of the old town walls. We thought we’d mis-heard – how can you ride along the top of the wall? – but we were proved wrong. More than 10m across in places, the walls were not only wide enough to ride on but for a whole peleton to ride in comfort. It was a gloriously hot, sunny day and we pootled around the circumference of the walls in about 30 minutes. It really is worthwhile if you are ever in Lucca.

Heading down from the heights, we rode through the streets of the old city, stopping to pop into the churches as we passed them. After a relaxed lunch in one of the squares we continued our exploration of the streets til it became clear that the hired bikes’ saddles didn’t have as much suspension or padding as our beautiful Bobbin bikes back home. Cobblestones aren’t very comfortable riding surfaces….

We headed back to return the bikes, collected the car and in 30 minutes were back in Pisa where we dropped off the bags with the lovely ladies at Belleville and headed off to find a cool spot for a beer and to finish our blogging.

Looking back over the last 10 days in Tuscany we thought we’d run through our ‘best of’s’ for anyone looking to travel in Tuscany.

Overall the best decision was to hire a car and drive – and to spend a tiny fraction more to get one worth driving. Having the car meant we could see more of the beautiful Tuscan countryside. Travel itself became an activity rather than a means to an end. The roads we travelled gave us a lot of pleasure, took us to quite remote places, and gave us a sense of adventure the whole time. The car also allowed us to plan our travel largely as we went. We had booked the hotels in each city before we left London, mainly because it was high tourist season. If it was any other time of year we might have left it much later and used the car flexibly. Despite being locked into each hotel, we still planned each drive the night before, looking at what there was to see along the way. We weren’t trapped by where the trains would take us, or when they would leave, and we weren’t in a panic to get to the station in the morning.

My favorite city was Siena. Tony’s was Florence. (I think Florence was actually the only city we visited. The others were large country towns. The step-up in cosmopolitaniness is marked – TH) I loved the little streets filled with people, the dramatic setting on the top of the hill and the resulting steep streets. Each turn seemed to have a interesting turn, archway or view across the valley. The community that lived there really made it hum and the cultural heart of the town was alive and well.

We both agree that Levanto is the best beachside town we have ever stayed in. It balances a very pleasant (although surf-free) beach, the luxury of sunbeds, good (reasonably priced) restaurants, pretty views, and being family friendly without feeling like a family resort.

The best breakfast was at the hotel in Siena – unsurprising as it was the only traditional hotel we stayed at and had a huge buffet. It had no soul but it did everything a hotel should.

The friendliest host was at our B&B in Levanto. Every morning she greeted us with kisses, compliments on our outfits, and general enthusiasm. She spoke almost no English but this didn’t stop her from making herself understood and making us feel very welcome.

Best B&B was the Antica Dimore in Florence. It was really a boutique hotel – the most like the penzionne in Room With a View of all the places we stayed. We ate breakfast at a shared table with the other guests without exchanging more than ‘ciao’ each morning. On the other hand, we still had awkwardness with the hosts, which is a common feature of B&B stays. The room was beautiful, with a four-poster bed and interesting local artwork. Their restaurant recommendations were excellent, and their location even better for the price.

All the places we stayed were well located – on the edge of the old town without being in the middle of the noise.

Best restaurant was Tito’s in Florence. Food was great, quick, cheap, fresh, and the service and atmosphere made the night into a party – even on a Tuesday. Any staff who pour in a bit extra when they’re filling the limoncello carafe so they can down a shot with the guests earn a tick from us.

The most impressive Duomo was taken by Siena in a canter. The floors alone were my favorite and the audacious green and white marble throughout was just breathtaking.

Best piece of art – my vote goes to Springtime by Botticelli. Tony’s goes to the Da Vinci Jesus – both conveniently in the Uffizi. 

Overall, we loved the balance of art, churches, cities, towns, drives and vistas. We didn’t ever get a ‘Room with a View’, but it didn’t matter.

Post written at the time of travel in August 2013. Draft lost and finally found and posted May 2015.

Peaks and Lakes – adventures in the lake district

The Lake District had been on our list of English trips since the start and we were getting closer and closer to the last of the decent weather we’d have before Tony’s visa runs out. 

To the sounds of Tony’s English workmates’ ‘I wouldn’t start from here’s’, we threw Tony’s brother Julian, some bags and walking shoes into the car and headed North. The main reason the Lake District hadn’t been ticked off the list yet was that it is a solid 4.5 hour drive from London, without any traffic. It was a long drive, during which we were entertained by Julian’s tales of his recent Permanent Residency test where we tested our knowledge of ‘what you need to know to be British’. Apparently you need to know what flower William Wordsworth wrote a poem about. Useful.

View from our B&B

We arrived just before midnight to our ‘remote’ B&B – only 5 miles from Kendle it felt a long way on tiny roads with hedges overgrown so they touched the car on both sides. We had half a converted barn to ourselves with a private living room and adjoining bedrooms.

The steep climb up

The boys were dead keen on a proper walk the next day so after a breakfast cooked almost entirely from produce from the farm we were on, we headed off for the North of the Lake District and the proper walking territory. We found a little cafe in the high country for lunch. They were the slowest toasted sandwiches in the history of toasted sandwiches – but they were tasty enough. We washed them down with locally made egg free ice-cream and headed off for our physical exercise for the day.

Halfway up

We needed a circular walk so that we could get back to our car – and we wisely judged our fitness and tolerance levels to about a 4 mile walk. Our chose walk – to Great Gables – started with quite a steep climb up the path of a little stream that came trickling down the hillside.

From the top of the hill we could see a bank of cloud catching on the next peak and thought how romantic it would be to wander around in it.

Tony taking in the views

Particularly the bit where the cloud was streaming through the saddle. Luckily for us our path was taking us straight to it.

It turns out that the saddle is more like a wind tunnel, and walking about in cloud covered hills is just rather wet and cold. It also spoils your view from the top. For all that, it felt like an adventure. The walking paths were not well marked so there was a nervous moment at the very top where we could sense that, just 2 steps further forward through the cloud was a sheer drop to the valley below, but we couldn’t see the way to go.

View from the top – I can’t seem to wrap my scarf tight enough

Note the Windy Gap…

Down the slippery slope in the ‘Windy Gap’

Out came our iphones with their handy built in compass. Its the only time i’ve ever needed this feature – but it brought back all my scouting and orienteering days. We found the right direction and headed off down the slope. The next mile was one of the most difficult I have ever walked. Steep descent, extremely slippery shale surface that rolled you down like a pair of skates the second you weren’t concentrating all whilst still in the midst of cloud We all took a tumble to some degree. Tony confidently says he didn’t – but I saw him walking like a penguin with his arms out and saying ‘woah’ several times.

Julian had decided to try the ‘mountain spring’ water directly from the source on our way down. He tried several and decided they all had different flavours – like wine – from different regions.

We were very glad to be on the way out of the valley and back to the car – so marched past what were very beautiful views of the valleys and Lake Buttermere in the distance.

Juju sampling the water quality

We had used our trusty Sawdays to recommend a pub. It was so good they were fully booked – even in the bar. They did squeeze us into a table immediately with warnings we had to be out by 8pm (we arrived at 6.30). A creative modern English menu was really impressive and affordable but we were all so tired we were pleased they were kicking us out early.

Back in our B&B we took over our little lounge and read books and knitted while Julian luxuriated in the bath (I think he fell asleep).

Captain Annie

The next day we set off for Windemere. Despite the drizzle we hired a little boat and motored off  exploring the waterways for two hours. We ducked in and out of little bays, spied on the boat houses of the rich, and avoided the ferry. Tony couldn’t get Julian to drink the water. Probably wise. We all took turns at the wheel and the boys were sad that the boat didn’t go very fast. Also probably wise that it didn’t.

A Sunday roast at a nearby hotel with views of the lake finished our visit. We piled back into the car and turned the wheel south to London listening to The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn – read by Elijah Wood.

Our hunt for a Room with a View – Part 5

Florence to Levanto

We awoke bright and early from our restful early evening, proving that accepting all that delicious limoncello had clearly been as good an idea as it seemed at the time. Cough.

The valleys of the Garfagnana

Luckily, our day only consisted of driving to Levanto via an interesting road so, it didn’t matter that we weren’t so ‘spritely’. We had looked all over the internet for a recommended drive to get us from Florence to the Cinque Terre region. All we found were the ‘autostrade’  highway that would whisk us there in a quick but dull 90 minutes, people moaning about how bad Italian roads are, or statements that you would have to be an idiot to try to drive in the Cinque Terre and if you were a clever clogs like all the reviewers you would simply take the train. None of these are very helpful for people with a car and a desire to take it for a spin to see more of Tuscany than the view from the highway.

Lonely Planet did go into some excellent detail on Northern Tuscan towns, and whilst it didn’t say ‘drive this route’, it did suggest an excellent lunch destination, so we plotted our own route and set off.

The Carrara mountains

We were headed for the Garfagnana, which is the name for the mountainous region of Northern Tuscany. Tony got a good dose of windy mountain passes as we progressed up into the heights.

For lunch we stopped at Castelnuovo di Garfagnana at the spot Lonely Planet recommended: the Osteria Vecchio Mulino. No menu – we simply wandered in and said we’d like something for lunch. The host gestured us to the long, shared tables in what was mostly a wine shop and deli and proceeded to bring us plate after plate of local produce. Pizza and quiche with local fresh tomatoes and olives followed by plates of salami, proscuitto, cheeses and mixed heirloom tomato salads. Our still-delicate tummies welcomed the quantity and quality and we munched happily through almost everything in front of us, and stopped only when we couldn’t fit in another morsel.

A mountain lake – definitely a better view than the highway.

After that we had another 2 hours of mountainous drives, including passing the majestic Carrera mountains, which were busily catching the clouds. These mountains look like they’re topped in snow – which is in fact the marble where all good Italian sculptors selected the blocks they wanted, including for the David.

[It was a glorious drive. I’m not sure that it was quite as good as the one Annie did south of Pisciotta in May, but it was pretty close. I had a great time – TH]

We descended into Levanto, which sits at the northern end of the Cinque Terre. The ‘Italian Riviera’, Levanto is a real beach town – obvious from the minute your drive in. People are on holiday here and everyone is dressed casually, riding their bikes around in their bikinis. Tony and I checked into our cute little B&B where everything is sea and rose themed and covered in glitter and headed for a walk in the setting sunshine along the beach before finding a cheap but satisfying dinner.

Life’s a beach

The beaches…

The next day was spent entirely lazing about on the beach. Most of Levanto’s beach is covered with sunloungers belonging to private operators. We decided to splash out on a pair with an umbrella for the day to properly engage with the Italian way of holidaying (not too exorbitant at €25 for the day). After a splash in the Mediterranean we settled in with our ipads for a day reading in the sunshine. [Well, I read. Annie’s listening to Dan Brown, which hardly counts as reading on either front – TH] [Ed – It’s based in Florence, so it fits with our goal of reading ‘Italian’ based novels and is therefore ok – and I know that it’s really trashy but I don’t care]. Rather than being scorched, we barely tanned all day – occasionally heading back into the water to cool off before drying out again in the sun. The afternoon followed a similar pattern after a delicious lunch of bruschetta and squid. Glorious.

Trail Trials

The Cinque Terre trails

Our last day by the sea was set aside for the Cinque Terre – the 5 little villages tucked up against the rugged hills just to the south of Levanto. The walk from Levanto itself to the closest of them was 2.5 hours, so we chickened out and decided to train it (all of 20 minutes) to the farthest one and combine train and walk our way back.

We hopped off the train in Riomaggiore and wandered our way up to the top of the village. I was surprised at how quickly a train load of tourists disappeared into the twisty streets – there were only a few that joined us at the top of hill. Sadly, the Via dell’Amore between Riomaggiore and Manarola is currently closed for maintenance (after the floods and landslides a year ago). The path between Manarola and Corniglia is also closed, so we decided to hop back on the train to Manarola. Not reading the train timetable properly, we managed to get ourselves on a train that whisked us past the middle towns and straight to Monterosso.

Rockpools and swimming holes

Making the best of this slight change in plans, we decided to have lunch in Monterosso and then walk the trail back towards Vernazza.  After a fueling lunch, we set off in the mid-afternoon sunshine for the 1.5-hour trek. It was a beautiful and worthwhile climb. We passed remote houses, little rivulets of water trickling down towards the sea spanned by BIlly Goat’s Gruff bridges and gazed across from the hill tops to the beautiful water and peaks in the distance. The most beautiful thing was the rocky pools and bathers far below – tempting us the whole time for a swim. From far above it looked as if the sea was giving the rocks a gentle massage with its long sea green fingers, never once breaking into white caps. Not wanting to walk in wet undies we strode on past – promising ourselves a rewarding swim once we got back to Levanto.

Vernazza

We descended into Vernazza after about 1.5 hours. The walk is about as dangerous as the drive – if you’re fit and able then its a bit of a huff and a puff but not overwhelming. Driving is not dissimilar – if you approach it with gusto and courage you will be fine. Many of the reviews of the passes say that they are very strenuous and even dangerous. [If you enjoy driving, you’ll enjoy driving in Italy. If you enjoy walking, you’l enjoy walking the Cinque Terre paths. If you don’t like either of those things, I don’t know why you think you’d like them here – TH]. It was pretty obvious who’d be leaving the overly critical reviews: people who’d set off for a hike in flip flops and bikinis (of which there were many).

Descending into the little town we rewarded ourselves with a gelati sitting on the rocks in the marina. As we waited for the train to take us home to Levanto it occurred to me that while the towns were very pretty, their quiet and remoteness remarkable in today’s world, we have been pretty spoiled by our recent travels in Italy. Piscotta was similarly remote and pretty, as were many of the towns we have visited on this trip. We weren’t blown away by the Cinque Terre – but they were well worth the effort.

A quick swim when we got back, a shower and Spritz (our new favourite holiday cocktail) by the beach with the setting sun and a Friday night band, we felt we never wanted this holiday to come to an end. There might even be some dancing by the end of the evening, with a bit of luck.

Our hunt for a Room with a View – Part 4

Florence – The David, the Uffizi and the Petti

We started today with our feet still sore from all the walking the day before – which didn’t bode well for our itinerary: our last day in Florence and the last big day of museums before we head for the Cinque Terra, we wanted to fit in as much as we could of the big Florentine sights before we left. Given all the museums were closed on the Monday, we’d had to pack them all into the one day.

We started with the Academia which is quite close to our B&B. The Firenzecard paid for itself by bypassing the packed queue (we thought we were there early at 9.30 but the line already went around the block). I particularly enjoyed the unfinished statues on the way into the gallery where the David stands: they portray what the sculptors saw in the rough blocks of marble as they were working. To the untrained eye I couldn’t see what had caused them to be abandoned, but in their half-finished state they were in many ways more interesting than the hundreds of beautifully finished statues we have seen in the last few days.

The David in person was quite arresting. The size of the sculpture, the curves of the limbs and the majesty of the full figure all in the light-filled room were quite breathtaking. I was pleased that no-one was taking photos as I think it would have distracted from the beauty of seeing it in person. Tony thought that every red-blooded person should have wanted to ‘spank’ those buttocks. [By ‘spank’, I mean, you know: spank – TH].

We wandered through the plaster cast museum that adjoins the David. There was a very interesting exhibition of the plaster casts made of famous statutes before they are cast in marble. It had never occurred to me that they hadn’t simply imagined the block of marble into the finished statute which had formed part of my admiration. However, in real life one has to imagine one’s masterpiece in clay; cast it in plaster; then chisel the design into the marble rock.

[I’m not sure whether the Academy is an example of excellent, terrible, or contextual curation – David casts such a shadow that everything else is in the shade, but maybe no-one would see the other things they show otherwise. And the ticket would be short-priced if it was just a statue, right? – TH]

Our Uffizi visit: Italian masters only

I did enjoy the little facts around the David – including that it had taken 40 years for that block of marble to be quarried and then turned into a sculpture and that several masters had tried their hand at it including Leonardo Da Vinci, until  Michelangelo tried his hand and ended up with the David.

[Editor’s note: Everything in Italics except for place names is Tony interjecting in my blog because he can’t help himself, including those ‘true facts’ that Tony makes up as he goes.]

From the Academia we wandered to the Uffizi, and thanks again to the Firenzecard, found ourselves in the short line to the entrance (The long line, even at 11am, stretched to the Arno).

We prioritised the big names of Italian art, mostly because we already had sore feet. If your name was Rubens, Van Dyke or anything remotely non-Italian: we apologize. We went straight to the Giotto, Bottechelli, Carrivagio and the rest via the rich rooms of the Medici family art gallery.

Italian engineering at work in the garden

[Seriously, all those dense Italian masters piled about 10kg onto my waistline. And then there’s all the the statues that they kinda lifted that feel from – they’e even heavier. Kilos and kilos and kilos – TH]

We finally escaped the galleries that we had decided were the ‘worthy’ and ended up by the Arno and on our way to the Pitti Palace. Again, the Firenzecards proved their worth by their line free-admittance to the gardens and all the Palace’s museums.

We climbed into the Boboli garden, past what seemed like the largest ever collection of Hercules statues we’d ever seen. [Annie said they all looked like me. I said we should go to the optometrist when we got home – TH]

Views of Florence from the top of the Boboli

We passed the amphitheater where one of the dukes of Florence failed to impress his bride. Frankly, she was a tough sell. At the wedding, Atlas created the Earth in front of 20,000 people, but she was as home to France as quick as she could.

Through the rooms of the Medici family home our legs gave way and we called it quits. After a beer and restorative crustini we wandered our way home. We had really hoped for a super-simple dinner of antipasti and a bottle of something tasty. We failed: in our exhausted search found only stale bread, badly seasoned sausage and passable cheese.

The Petti Palace viewed from its ‘backyard’

Learning our lesson, we headed for where our B&B had recommended: the nearby Tito trattoria. [I don’t know if you really exist, Tito – but I love you either way – TH]. With no reservation, we had to leave by 9pm, but we had plenty of time for a main, wine and limoncello. The limoncello continued out onto the street, with the staff and other guests engaging with us and doing the pouring. Every time we asked to pay, it seemed like we’d asked the staff (or guests) for another drink, and then…

Tuscany – Our hunt for a Room with a View – Part 3

Siena to Florence. And more Florence.

Views of Siena from Brolio

As soon as we decided that we were going to spend 10 days in Tuscany I insisted that Tony read A Room With a View. I listened to the whole audiobook on our recent trip to the Loir (a post I am still to catch up on), where we had 8 hours on trains where I could happily knit and read. Tony still hasn’t finished it and so we have punctuated our trip with fragments of the audio book and with Tony reading it while I blog. He has laughed and laughed at it which has delighted me more than anything.

Defensive walls and short shorts

So we were both very excited to finally be on our way to Florence. We drove in from Siena, wending our way through the Chianti region. We stopped at Madonna de Brolio to taste the wine and clamber about the castle there, which is still lived in.

The Rough Guide (it’s Baedeker’s – Tony) has quite a good section on Brolio and the roles it played in turf wars even as recently as WWII. We could see Siena from the top of the walls and it was clear where the saying ‘When Brolio growls, all Siena trembles’ came from – the views over the country below were commanding.

Views from Brolio

We continued to explore Chianti, stopping in for lunch under some shady trees in a lovely little town that looked like the right kind. There was a duke out between my Tuscan platter of smoked meats, cheese and bread and Tony’s pasta – both delicious, accompanied by glasses of Chianti – we felt very Italian.

We made our way into Florence in the late afternoon and found our way through the very complex one-way roundabouts to our B&B. It is one of the loveliest we have stayed at – with our own four-poster bed that has inspired me for when we get home to Australia. Only a few blocks walk into central Florence, but nicely away from the really touristy parts. it is an excellent balance.

Evidence of WWII

After depositing our bags into the room, and our car into the nearby carpark, we made our way down to the Arno, listened to some buskers on the Ponte Vecchio, and made our way to the Marcato Centrale where our host had suggested there would be some decent Trattorias open even on a Sunday in August when it seems much of Florence is closed.

We had a really excellent dinner – carpaccio, veal osso bucco and a veal steak with truffles and cheese and a jazz band – and found our way back through the streets and collapsed into bed.

Florence – The Duomo, wandering and leather

The space between the inner and outer walls

We decided to get out ‘early’  to the Duomo to avoid the crowds, which failed dismally when when we discovered a queue 100m long by 10am. We had paid for the Firenzecard which felt exorbitant but the promise of priority entry seemed to make it a good investment. It turns out there is no priority entry to the Duomo – but there is to the bell tower, the Baptistery and the Dome (although there is a complicated thing you have to do with the tickets).  We decided to prioritise the Dome and headed to the front of the equally long line to the priority section (making everyone else cross) but cutting about an hour from the wait.

Unexpected views of the inside of the Dome at the Duomo

The climb up inside the Dome was fascinating. We climbed and climbed and the popped out on the walkway that runs inside the Duomo around the base of the Dome. From here was a surprising bonus to the Dome – we could see all of the Duomo without waiting in line! We continued to climb up stairs not built for crowds or people of Tony’s height between the two layers of the dome. Finally, after 463 steps, we climbed up ladder-like stairs through the trapdoor to the top. It was really worthwhile: the views were clear and beautiful and there weren’t too many other people. Many photos later – including me convincing Tony to overcome his vertigo and pose for a selfie by the edge, we decended.

Views from the top of the Duomo

Emerging from the side of the Duomo we decided that we didn’t need to climb the Bell Tower. It would have given us the same view we had just seen – except we would have seen the Duomo from that height as well. Our legs thanked us.

We did however feel up to exploring the Baptistery – since we have seen the Pisa and Siena ones it seemed silly not to finish the trio. Inside was a delight of Byzantine ceilings, classical antiquity-style architecture, and Islamic-style floors. It was very different to the two we had visited so far – the basin being almost an afterthought in the glory of the ceilings.

Byzantine ceilings

Most of the big museums and other famous sights in Florence are closed on Mondays, but thanks to the Firenzecard app we were able to locate lots of other little places that we wouldn’t otherwise have bothered with. We grabbed some panini for lunch and wandered to the front of the Petti Palace, not usually closed on a Monday (unless it is the first or last Monday of the month) and picnicked on its steps while we sorted our where we wanted to go. There was a little museum close by which had been established in the 1940s when a sea captain donated his ‘treasures’. It seemed he had pillaged bits and pieces during his career – from entire doorways to fragments of columns and statues – and on his death donated them to the country, provided they were set up in a museum and numbered as he directed.

views of the Arno

We then wandered back north of the river on a hunt for some of the good shopping. Instead of finding the leather shop that the Rough Guide had recommended, we stumbled on the Santa Maria Novella, and thanks to our Firenze cards, wandered inside. The frescoes and ceilings of the cathedral and the chapels was well worth the time. We sat for a while and gazed up at the really beautiful ceilings and allegorical scenes. In one of the chapels that had been ‘redesigned’ at some point they recently discovered a ‘lost’ fresco.

The Last Supper in place covering the lost fresco

A painting of the Last Supper had been mounted on the wall over the top of an existing fresco. Then another allegorical scene had been painted around the Last Supper painting to frame it. When taking down the Last Supper for restoration they discovered the fresco hiding underneath. The decision was made to move the Last Supper to the adjoining wall so that the surviving section of the remaining fresco could be seen. What you now see is a rather bizare juxtaposition of the two different frescos, with the outline of the Last Supper’s frame in the middle.

The Lost fresco

Having failed to find the shop the Rough Guide had recommended for leather, we decided to walk across town to the School for leather-working over by the Piazza Santa Croce. Buoyed by some gelati and granita we were captivated by the students who are working on pieces in the showrooms. Unfortunately we didn’t have a leather budget that stretched as far as the prices in the showrooms required, but we did fondle lots of sleeves of jackets, watch leather workers doing their thing at quaint little workstations, and gaze adoringly at bags made from all sorts of leather (including Ostrich!).

Ceilings of the Santa Maria Novella

By this time we think we had walked about 20km and decided to head for home – until we decided to pop into some of the leather shops as we went past. Tony has been on an endless hunt for a burgundy, woven, leather belt and I was in the market for the perfect navy handbag. Our legs discovered an extra three hours of strength, I think we have now become acquainted with every leather merchant in Florence. At the end of the day we were successful. Tony found his belt and a handsome leather jacket. I found my handbag, and a pair of long, black, leather gloves lined with cashmere.

We dragged our tired legs home to shower and change before going out to find a bar to blog and read from til we were allowed to go in search for dinner without feeling too un-European.

Tuscany – Our hunt for a Room with a View – Part 2

Siena

Our first night in Siena was such fun. After freshening up at the hotel we headed out to explore  Siena’s streets and find somewhere for dinner.

The Rough Guide to Tuscany and Umbria has so far not steered us wrong. I so much prefer these guides to Lonely Planet – they give interesting historical details, and go to quite a lot of effort to explain even the interiors of the places it covers. It has also been great for places to eat and so based on its description of a restaurant in underground vaults near the Duomo we set off to see if we could get dinner at what we felt was a reasonably European hour of 8pm.

Tony in the Campo

The streets were quite magical, full of people on a warm Friday night, and we happily joined the wandering bands of locals and wound our way up past the Baptistery of the Duomo to the Antica Osteria da Divo. We were told when we arrived that we could get a table at 9.30 and were sent by Pino to see his friend, also called Pino, who ran a wine bar in the Campo until our table was ready.

The Campo is the site of one of Siena’s noted cultural events – the Palio – in which the Contrade (the 17 ‘wards’ or groups within Siena) enter horses into a race around the Campo on a track covered in sand and cushioned with mattresses. There is only one rule for the 3 lap race  – no interfering with the reins of another horse. The jockeys don’t have to finish – it’s just the horse that matters. Apparently the race lasts for less than a minute but the winning Contrade parades around for weeks after in celebration. I wish we’d been here for it.

The street party for the Onda Contrada

The Contrade life of Siena is fascinating, they each form a sort of family grouping within the city and as you walk through each section you can tell as the flags outside the houses and the street lamps change. Each Contrade has its own church, social centre, museum, in addition to their own flags and motifs. The Onda Contrade (whose symbol is a Dolphin and colours are blue and white), having won the August Pailo were throwing a celebratory dinner/festival in the streets of their section while we were there and took over the city with their blue and white flags around their necks. We had been wandering around the city and happened upon the preparations including a bunch of guys in pointy red hats which we couldn’t work out.

Strange men in pointy hats

One guy even had one blue shoe and one white shoe – I wanted to know who had the opposite pair. As i’m writing this we are sitting in the foyer of our hotel waiting for a storm to pass and watching a float of teenagers from Onda pelting passers by with water balloons and super soakers (luckily its raining so hard that the extra water doesn’t really make a difference). Despite this display of hooliganism (Tony calls it high spirits – and totally supports it provided they don’t go for him with their water pistols in his seersucker jacket), the city has quite low levels of crime because each Contrada takes care of discipline for its members.

The Onda Contrada Dolphin – street lights.

For a city of only 60,000 Siena has a wonderful vibe that overwhelms the tourists. As we sat in the Campo with our wine we watched the community milling around, drinking at the bars around us or just sitting enjoying the evening and the sense of community.

When our table was finally ready we did have a spectacular meal. The setting was very intimate, with the low ceiling vaults making what was a large restaurant feel intimate. The staff were excellent and spoke very good English which is always a relief when I have to explain my egg allergy. The food was perfect and we wandered home through the streets happily bursting.

The view of the Campo towers from our hotel

We had planned on a whole day in Siena to explore the city. We had a lazy start then headed out with the intention of starting with the Duomo. Our wanderings took us in the opposite direction to the night before and we came up on the Dominican monastery that dominates the skyline from our hotel. Very sparse inside, we wandered quickly through the vast space – it was really just a functioning church without having been adapted for tourists. From the outside however we did have an excellent view of the town topped by the licorice-striped Duomo and we set off in that general direction under the flags of the Contrada whose symbol was the goose (they won the July Palio this year).

Siena Duomo

We had stumbled on the back of the Duomo last night, but today we headed for its grand front entrance. Tickets for the Baptistery, Crypt, Museo and the Cathedral itself were sold separately – but we went all in and also paid for the audio guides which turned out to be tablets with a audio and visual guide (really worth the €6 each if you  are ever there). Starting with the Cathedral we lost 2 hours wandering inside its halls and gazing at its ceilings and floors. I think it is the most impressive and beautiful cathedral I have seen on our travels. A big call – but considered. We were extremely lucky to be there when the floor panels had been uncovered. The marble pictures in the floor are usually covered by protective coverings and only unwrapped in August. The allegorical and Old Testament stories shown in masterful detail were worth a visit even without their surrounds.

The Duomo bell tower

We were quite awestruck by the Cathedral and needed a bit of a mental break afterwards so sat in the shade out the front, eating our emergency stash of wasabi peas, and discussing the artworks and the community of famous sculptors whose efforts we had just seen. I particularly enjoyed the story of the Michelangelo statues – he was commissioned to carve 15, but after finishing only 4 was tempted away to Florence by a bigger commission – the David.

The Baptistry was next – nothing like the Pisa one from the day before, this one was tucked under the back of the Cathedral. The ceiling frescos were glorious but only visible by craning one’s neck or borrowing a large mirror provided to allow you to view the paintings in reverse.

The Cathedral interior – also liquorice striped

We grabbed a quick bite to eat and headed up the steps to the Crypt which sits under the Cathedral and was ‘lost’ when the new Cathedral was built over the top of existing Roman era churches. Recently discovered and opened to the public, it was an interesting view into the way that old buildings are swallowed by the new ones in cities where space is at a premium and the fact that something is ‘old’ doesn’t save it. The frescoed walls of the Crypt were the real discovery and showed scenes of Christ’s life – intermingled with the new supports for the Cathedral which were cut into the frescoes where necessary, in complete disregard for the art they were destroying in the process.

The font in the Baptistery

The final stop on the Duomo complex was the Museo which houses the original paintings and statues from the Cathedral, which now is only graced with copies in order to preserve them from the tourists.

We emerged to threatening clouds and scurried through the streets to burst through the doors of our hotel as the heavens opened.

Floor panels in the Duomo – Romulus and Remus and the She-Wolf.

Once the rain cleared we set off to find the Enoteca Italiana (through the streets of the Porcupine Contrada who were having their own celebration) – a wine shop and bar housing every wine sold in Italy – like the National Library for wines – and you can buy and drink the contents. We settled in with a few glasses in the courtyard listening to a jazz band while we waited for it to be a civilized European hour for dinner.

Tomorrow to Florence through the Chianti region.

floor panels

Roof of the dome in the Duomo

Ceilings in the Baptistery

Tuscany – our hunt for a Room with a View – Part 1

It is finally time for our summer holiday. Everyone at work has been on their 2 weeks away somewhere sunny, and we were really hanging out for our turn at the very tail end of August. I had to use up some leave before the end of August, and we were in real need of a break.

We had cast around for ideas of how to spend a full 10 days (a week, two weekends, and a bank holiday) and after early plans of a trip around the turkish coast were cancelled due to the friends we wanted to go with being ill, we finally settled on an Italian adventure. Whilst we had only just got back from Italy in late May, Tony really loves Italy and he felt I had got an unfair share of France into our holidays so far so we should go back to Italy again.

We decided on Tuscany mostly because we both love Florence and wanted an excuse to go again, and to hire a car and see the famed tuscan countryside. In preparation we read up on Room with a View and hired an Alfa Romeo.

Day 1 – Pisa by Night

We set out Thursday afternoon, landing in Pisa at what we thought was dinner time and 30 degrees. The lovely ladies running our B&B picked us up from the airport (only one of them speaks English but the other one tries really hard) and settled us into our room at the B&B BelleVille.

Leaning by Night

Pisa is quite small and everyone had told us only to bother with the Tower and then to get out. We decided to ignore this as much as we could and asked the B&B ladies where they would eat. They told us to head for the river – but away from the Tower and the surrounding tourist tat. However we couldn’t resist the lure of the Campo dei Miracoli and the sight of the Tower by night so we detoured from our dinner mission to view the Tower and gush about how it was actually leaning!

We then headed through the medieval streets of Pisa towards the Arno and found a bar with lots of tables outside and happily tucked into platters of local cheese, tomato and smoked meats with glasses of the lovely house white – a total of €15!

Day 2 – Pisa to Siena

Leaning by day – from a distance we think it looks like its leaning more than up close.

We awoke in our comfortable bed to another sunny day of 30 degrees. After a quick breakfast pouring over the route we wanted to take to Siena we left our bags and walked back into the Campo dei Miracolio to actually visit the other parts of the complex that are so overshadowed by the more famous Tower.

We had to pick up our bags by 1pm so it was to be a whirlwind tour – but in the end 3 hours was all we needed.

Under the watchful eye…

The inside of the Duomo itself was one of the most stunningly opulent religious buildings I have seen. The gold ceiling, frescos, black and white stripy marble and mosaics just overwhelmed the senses. Or maybe it was the entire school of japanese schoolkids. Can’t be certain.

The outside of the Duomo was quite fascinating. On the same soggy ground that caused the Tower to start leaning before they’d built past the third storey, the walls of the Duomo also lean, and the builders have tried to compensate for this as well.

The slanting walls of the Duomo

Not as immediately noticeable as the Tower, whose bell tower on the top level is at the opposite slant to the building in an attempt to make it straight (which one travel writer described as looking like a jaunty hat on its top), the walls of the Duomo are instead built into wedge shapes so that from the side it looks like a room from Willy Wonka’s factory.

The double height of the Baptistery

We then trouped across to the Baptistery along with the school group and after a quick whip around, climbed the stairs to the second level. Higher than we had expected we stopped panting just as a man on the lower level shushed everyone and started to call. He was simply calling in a singing voice a single note, but he was showing how the incredible acoustics of the building worked. The sound from his voice echoed around the space for so long that we was able to sing chords by adding notes to the previous ones he’d sung that were still ringing around the walls. It was incredible and clear as a bell. as soon as he’d stopped everyone started talking again and the building returned to a cacophony of sound.

The floor to ceiling Zodiac

We wandered across to the Camposanto and wandered through the tombstones on the floor admiring the restored frescos that had been rescued after the Allies bombed the complex in WWII. The most interesting thing we came across was a zodiac in one corner. Quite large, it seemed very out of place amongst the extremely Christian complex of buildings.

The overseeing priest

It was balanced however with Christian figures in each corner – priests overseeing the workings of the Zodiac, joining the old religion to the new.

We headed back to the B&B to pick up our bags and then head to the airport to pick up the car. Our lovely hosts drove us to save us getting a taxi and we picked up our Alfa without any hassle. We even made it out of the airport carpark without any arguments or driving on the wrong side of the road.

With no real plan of what we wanted to see between Pisa and Tuscany we set the TomTom to take us via Volterra, one of the beautiful Sienese hilltop towns. The scenery on the way up to Volterra was out of a postcard of Tuscany. Green hills bathed in golden sunlight with sheer cliffs of orange soil. We were lucky to find a park just on the edge of town and wandered through the narrow streets til we found a cafe for lunch.

What we didn’t realise was that we’d stumbled into Twilight territory, the second of Stephanie Myer’s books having dramatic scenes set in Volterra. Luckily there weren’t too many references to it in the town although it has apparently had a significant impact on the tourism in the town.

The most beautiful part of Volterra was the view – stretching far across the valley below with the sunbaked town behind it.

We wound our way back down through the streets, into the car and off towards Siena.

30th Birthdays in Southern Italy

We wanted to find somewhere special to go for Tony’s 30th birthday. Our criteria were sunshine, sea, a convertible and a view. The logical choice seemed to be either Italy, Greece or Turkey and with the latter two on the cards for later in the year, and Italy being top of Tony’s list, we settled on finding somewhere really special in Italy for the bank holiday weekend just after his birthday.

 

The Amalfi coast seemed like the place to be but because it was a UK holiday weekend, all of the really picturesque places were booked. So we started looking further down the coast past Solerno. Completely by accident we stumbled on the Marulivo Hotel

in Piscotta. Having been constructed as a monestary on the top of a hill south of Agropoli, the converted buildings with large terraces overlooking the ocean ticked all the boxes and had the benefit of being a little further away from the hustle and bustle of English tourism.

Having gotten over the initial terror if driving on the wrong side of the road, we decided to test our skills by hiring a manual convertible Pergeot 308 (the same car we had in Scotland but with the steering wheel on the other side – and a roof that worked). Like all ACT drivers licences however, Tony’s expired on his birthday and since the UK takes 3 weeks to swap your licence over it was going to be up to me to do all the driving!

We arrived into Naples at 8.30pm on Thursday night and having picked up what turned put to be a BRAND NEW car – seriously we are the first renters- we headed off south, around the base of Vesuvius and towards Salerno. The drive took us 3 hours through very windy roads, over viaducts and through the Parco Naztionale Di Cliento – the stunning views just looming blackness given it was almost midnight. The journey took longer than normal as the short route into Pisciotta had been closed due to an avalanche but the road from the south was luckily still open despite some large rocks which had dislodged themselves onto the road during a big storm-front that had passed just ahead of us. We wound our way along the little town and after having parked in the town square ( the carpark being also cut off by an avalanche) and were met by the lovely owner of the hotel, Massimo. We walked the last 50 meters from the square through little alleyways to the hotel which perches itself right on the edge of the hillside. Our room opened onto the main terrace with separate doors and a Juliette balcony opening to the sea. The storm front which had also left its mark with water coming through under the Dorris and puddling by the bed. Tis was quickly rectified and we fell exhausted into our bed.

Blue skys  greeted us in the morning and after a quick breakfast, sadly inside as the terrace where it was normally served was too windy, we jumped in the car to head to the Ruins of Paestum back past Agropoli about 90 minutes drive. It was a perfect day for a drive so we put the roof down, a white headscarf around my hair a la Grace Kelly, sunglasses on and headed off.

I am very glad that I had a bit of practice driving in Normandy before tackling the tiny Italian roads. I think it would have all been too much for a first experience. However thankfully changing gears on the other side hasn’t proved as hard as i feared which is lucky, because I need quite a bit of concentration to deal with the crazy italian drivers overtaking the entire time. Any stretch of road will do – regardless of the drivers coming the other direction – the assumption being that everyone will simply pull over to the right and let you finish overtaking. Close calls are tooted at, but other than that every seems very relaxed about it.

The drive to Paestum made up for the missed views the night before. Every vista was beautiful with green olive tree covered hills topped by little towns with cream walls and terracotta roofs. The roads swept through the countryside through countless tunnels and across countless viaducts and bridges, almost as if they had to keep to the same gradient as a train – never rising nor dipping more than a few degrees. Tony was very good about me doing all the driving and I really had a ball.

We arrived in Paestum at about midday and after doing two laps if the old wall of the site, finally found the way in. The Museo Di Paestum holds the artifacts that have been recovered from the site which was only rediscovered in the 1930s. A really stunning collection of vases, jewel leery and frescos were recovered and gave the complex history of the town.

We wandered happily after a large group of teenagers being made to appreciate their history, and then decided it was time for lunch. Whilst the little village that remains in Paestum is aimed mainly at the tourists, we found a cafe with a tent outside and plenty of Italian speaking patrons. We ordered the ‘house plate’ and a plate of what I thought was tomato and mozzarella pizza. What appeared was two sumptuous antipasti plates – Tony’s covered with prosciutto, bresaola, three different types of cheese, grape tomatoes, pickled eggplant, sundried tomatoes and fresh basil – and mine simply covered with grape tomatoes, a few sundrieds, and three beautiful balls of fresh mozzarella. All this was accompanied by a pile of fresh bread. We tucked into this feast, moaning at the simple fresh flavours while a bucketing storm-front blew over leaving sunshine behind. After paying the very reasonable 22 euros we decided it was time for a wander around the ruins themselves.

Founded in 6th century BC, the town ‘Poseidonia’ was founded by Greek settlers, coming under Roman rule in 230 BC. The site has three very large temples – to Hera, Cerere and Neptune/Poseidon depending on whether the Greeks or the Romans were in charge. The scale of these temples is astonishing – they dominate the landscape today and would have dominated the ancient town, even with its wide roads, grand squares and several amphitheaters. One very intimate one fell into disuse when the Romans arrived but was converted into a shrine and the concentric circles survived.

We wandered happily around the site for an hour, purchased some reproductions of the favourite frescos and headed back to the car. back at the hotel we established ourselves in a corner of the hotel courtyard out of the wind with a bottle of rosé and read books until dinner time.

Massimo, the lovely hotel owner recommended three restaurants and helpfully booked one in Pisciotta so no driving was required. After a feast of prosecco and fish we wandered happily back to our room through little windy passages and fell asleep to the sound of the waves.

Cliff drives and sea views

Our second morning started with breakfast on the terrace overlooking the blue sea below. After a long chat with our host Lea, we decided to drive south along the coast to see the statue of Christ at Maratea. I had to back the car out of the town square in full view of the entire village who were all assembled for morning coffee and gossip. I had about 10cm grace on each side, backing out about 80m, avoiding both the other vehicles, the village dogs, children, and the cafe tables and potted plants. Tony helpfully guided me back, moving the cafe tables by an inch to let me pass – much to the amusement of the locals.

The road south from Pisciotta to Maratea was described to us as like the Amalfi coast road with no traffic. Lea wasn’t joking. It was the most spectacular road we’ve ever been on, made all the more glorious by the sunshine on the water below and the wind in our hair. Driving the 80km took us 2.5 hours, not including the stop for lunch at one of the towns on the beach. We wound our way through tiny villages where the streets were so narrow traffic could only pass one way, along roads where the cliff fell away to the sea just a foot from the road.

The final ascent to the statue was the most terrifying, particularly when we saw the height of the switchbacks that led up the last 100 meters. Luckily for Tony’s faith in my driving they only let a little van drive the last bit – everyone parks their cars just below and gets shuttled up the crazy towering road. Tony did very well considering his fear of heights. The Statue certainly dominates he landscape and from its foot is a commanding view over the Mediterranean, and the stunning coastline in both directions.

The drive back thankfully took only 90 minutes as I was exhausted. We collapsed into a lounge on the balcony back at the hotel to soak up the last few hours of sun with a drink before heading down to the marina on the shore below for dinner.

The walk down from the town to the marina was in itself an adventure – taking us down winding stairways, some decorated for a wedding in the village the next day. Finding our way back in the dark was tricky but after a bottle of local wine with dinner it was just an adventure.

Village life

Our last day in Piscotta was finally really lovely weather. We breakfasted on the terrace and then decided to spend the whole day in the village – mostly because I didn’t want to have to back the car out of the square again in front of an audience. We set out to explore the village on foot – walking from one end to the other in about 10 minutes, and then walking out beyond the village to look back at it from the next headland.

We found the local shop, purchased some antipasti bits and pieces, and headed back to the hotel balcony where we proceeded to spend the rest of the day reading books in the sunshine – it was a perfect holiday day. Towards 6pm Massimo opened the bar and many of the other guests had returned from their days out. We all sat on the terrace drinking beers and aperitifs until it was time for dinner.

The last local restaurant that Massimo and Lea had recommended was just outside the village. 2 other couples from the hotel were also going there as well. The instructions were – walk to the end of the village, wait in the carpark. A man will collect you in a black audi and take you to the restaurant. We went first and sure enough a nice young man picked us up and took us to his family’s restaurant in a little house in the next bay. Under the olive trees were set 3 tables for 2 with candles and a view of the ocean. As the light faded we ate local seafood from a limited but fresh and thoughtful menu and drank local wine. It was the perfect last night dinner.

We were up very early the next morning to do the 3 hour drive back to Naples in time for a 10am flight. We had only one exciting moment when the traffic lights at one section of road where there had been an avalanche malfunctioned – with both going green at each end resulting in both directions of traffic meeting on the one way section. At 6 in the morning all the drivers were energetically blaming the drivers in the other direction for being in the wrong. Finally our end agreed to back up and let the others pass. The front car in our direction then tooted their horn the whole way along the one way section to let oncoming traffic know they were coming as the new fangled traffic lights were obviously not to be trusted – sometimes the old-fashioned was are best.

Normandy – oysters, monks and beaches

Normandy 

Last week I had the rather exciting offer of being sent to Paris for a week to help a large deal that was closing. ‘Hell yes’ or something a little more professional was my answer. Initially I was supposed to go over on the day after we arrived back in London from 3 weeks in Australia. As fun as it would have been, I would have been simply shattered. As luck had it, my trip was delayed by a week which allowed me to recover from the jet lag before repacking my bags – and also to coincide with the long weekend when Tony could come join me for an adventure into the French countryside.

So on Monday morning I set off on the Eurostar to Paris. Business class on the Eurostar was not quite like on an airline – however we did get breakfast and plenty of coffee. Arriving in Paris we headed for the project offices out in the rather tired but one time very modern ‘La Defense’ business precinct. I worried a little at being told not to go walking at night or preferably on my own there as it had once been gangland territory, and still has rather unsavoury night time occupant. However, like most districts built on the edge of town to serve businesses, the planned expanses of concrete felt safe enough. The impressive ‘Grande Arche’ sits at one end of the ‘Rue ?’ and mirrors the rather more attractive Arc du Triumph  at the other. I’m pretty certain that Napoleon probably wouldn’t have appreciated the juxta position. Ces’t la Vie. Up close the Arche is very grand – although the large shapeless thing in the centre isn’t an attempt at modernist sculpture – it is apparently a windbreak to try to combat the wind tunnel the Arch creates in La Defense.

The week passed quickly with long days followed by long dinners in the hotel restaurant. By the time Tony arrived on

Friday night I was pretty keen to head into Paris proper and see some more of the city. He had had an interesting trip over – the seats on the Eurostar were fully booked so he’d spent the 2 hour trip standing in the bar car reading Game of Thrones and its sequels (my fault entirely – I have already read them all and forced him to watch the first 2 series of the HBO adaptation so it was only a matter of time til he caved and had to read ahead).

We jumped aboard the metro and in 30 minutes were in downtown Paris. We wandered the pretty streets which were surprisingly quiet for a Friday night, passed Notre Dame (which is turning 850 this year) and found ourselves a little café on the south side of the river for dinner and wine and to plan the rest of our trip.

Trains in France

So we might have left it til the last minute, but I can’t seem to figure out how to book a train in rural France that involves a seat reservation. We arrived at Gare Saint Lazare at about 10.30 to try to figure it out at the station. Avoiding a large queue we decided to try the billet d’automatique with some success – but no seats. ‘Oh well’ we figured. Worst case we would repeat Tony’s 2 hour standing effort from the night before, and we figured we’d just hop on and see what happened.

We had to kill some time and so wandered across the road from the station for some breakfast. With my egg allergy I usually have a pretty grim time of it in France at breakfast. At any other meal I can at least order bread and cheese, however Paris seems set on set menu breakfasts that usually involve a croissant and piece of baguette, orange juice and a coffee. The fancier ones involve egg of some sort instead of or in addition to the croissant. Tony and I usually do a bit of a trade – he has my croissant and I get his baguette – he thinks its an alright deal. However the café that we chose had an option of a croissant and coffee, egg and toast and coffee, or croissant, egg and toast and coffee – none very helpful. I tried in my very meagre French to ask for just toast and coffee. What came out in the end was Tony’s breakfast of egg and toast (with jam) and just coffee for me with an explanation that the bread for the toast is only for the set breakfast and they would not sell it to me separately! Why they were so protective of a few slices of white plastic bread is beyond me. I stole a half a piece of Tony’s toast and had it with jam and then egg accidentally got all over the rest of the toast (that I had planned to steal). A sadly insufficient breakfast.

We made our way onto the train and settled ourselves into a compartment hoping that we weren’t in anyone’s reserved seats – but we were quickly turfed out by the rightful owner and had to go looking. We luckily found the compartment usually reserved for people with disabilities, but there being none on our train, was empty with plenty of space. We grabbed fold down seats and settled in for a 2 hour trip to Caen where we would pick up our car and head to Bayeux.

Driving on the right side

Neither Tony or I had ever tried driving a left hand drive car and we were both not so secretly terrified. I had booked us a car in Caen thinking that it would be easier to learn this new skill outside the crazy hustle of Paris. Upon picking up the car (where we immediately changed the manual booking for an automatic with full insurance!) and agreeing that Tony would be the first brave one and get behind the wheel with me navigating we headed for the Normandy coast. I must say he did a very good job. There were lots of roundabouts and trams in Caen which were a bit of a challenge for the uninitiated driver – but we worked together to count the exits, reminding each other that the oncoming traffic was coming from the left, and made it safely through the trip with only a few scratched hubcaps.

Normandy Beaches and Jour-J

We had planned to spend the afternoon seeing the Normandy D-Day beaches. However the first thing to do was to get something to eat for me before I turned into a blood-sugar deprived mess. We headed via the simplest roads to Luc-sur-mer because it was simply the closest. After a coffee at a beach side café we found a supermarket and bought salami, cheese and bread and headed to the headland for a picnic. There we came across the first relics of the D-Day landings – a bunker with artillery still in situ. Our first reaction was that it must be a replica because the concrete was blocking the gun’s direct exposure to the sea. It took us a minute to realise that it was deliberate – to protect it from direct attach from the water, and enable it to defend approaches from the beaches on either side (just not from directly in front). Nearby was a memorial to the UK and US forces that took out the nest and liberated the town.

From there we drove up the coast road stopping every time we saw something interesting. The remains of the temporary Mulberry marina at Port Winston at Arromanches were impressive – you can still reach them at low tide – and the thought that this was the point from which 2.5 million men etc were unloaded to march across Europe was quite amazing.

We stopped at the ‘Batterie de Longues-sur-mer ’ where 3 of the 4 155mm guns are still in their housings.

They were extremely imposing – the size, range and the organisation that was required to fire them. They couldn’t see the targets they were firing on – the targeting post was further down the hill and instructions would be sent up the line to aim a bit to the left, right, up etc. The guns were taken out by a combined effort of warships and the 231st Infantry Brigade and the memorial on the site is testimony to the bravery of the men on both the ships and on foot who took on this terrible barrage of guns.

Finally we came to Omaha Beach and the American Cemetery and Memorial. Whilst I’ve seen it in movies, actually standing amongst the pure white crosses stretching to the edges of the trees, each one a man, brother, husband, son, was incredibly moving. The most moving of all were the unknown graves – ‘Known but to God’ – their families never knowing where to put their flowers in memory.

Bayeux

We had booked into a B&B in Bayeux as I really wanted to see the Bayeux Tapestry, and it was conveniently close to the D-Day beaches and our next day’s activities. Bayeux was the first town to be liberated after D-Day and it retained much of its beautiful architecture which in other parts of Normandy was simply decimated. We were staying in a farmhouse called ‘Clos de Bellefontaine’ next to the ‘Palais de Bellefontaine’ and only 10 minutes on foot from the centre of town. Our room, in the loft space was simple and lovely – high ceilings, hand hewn beams with wooden pegs and twin beds pushed together. We had the top floor to ourselves include a bathroom and it felt like our own little world.

We headed into town for dinner choosing from several excellent recommendations from Carole our hostess and had a lovely seafood dinner and local cider followed by excellent cheese and wine. On our way into town we explored the little streets criss-crossing the river that flows through between houses built of local stone and matching bridges. The church ‘Notre Dame du Bayeux’ was calling in the congregation for Saturday evening service as we wandered past so we didn’t go in – but it was beautiful to listen to.

Mont St Michele

One of the experiences from my childhood trip around France with my parents that I particularly wanted to share with Tony was our visit to Mont St Michele. So Sunday morning after an early breakfast we set off in the car (my turn to learn about driving on the right) to the Mont. We turned up and parked in the huge carparks that are new since my visit in 1998 and caught the shuttle across to the Mont. Tony was suitably impressed on approach – the Mont is impressive sitting out in the sea on its rock. We admired the defending curtain wall, and the rings on the outside of the wall for tying up your boat at high tide (judging this was at the same height as the entrance I think the tide doesn’t come up that far very often anymore), and into the town itself. You can stay on the Mont at one of several hotels, but the permanent population is only 47 – monks and nuns and a few hotelliers.  We climbed up on the ramparts and looked across the expanse of the Normandy mainland and up at the Abbey above.

We walked almost all the way up the Mont on the ramparts – missing the very touristy shops on the main road – and enjoying the fresh sea air and the sunshine (and the stairs). Once inside the Abbey with our tickets and audio guides the real fun began.

The absolute highlight was standing in the Abbey itself. It was Sunday and so the normal Sunday services of a functioning Abbey were being conducted right as we happened to be walking by. We stood off to the side and listened as the entirely sung service (with both nuns and monks) resonated around the walls. It brought the whole space to life. For a few minutes it was no longer a tourist attraction and an old building, but a place alive with breath-taking music, light, celebration  and prayer.

The cloisters was my second favourite part – the symmetry of the lines of columns, the stained glass windows with their Gaelic patterns, and the simplicity of the garden in the middle under its square of sky, and with windows views out to the horizon I understood why it was a place of reflection and calm.

The really impressive thing about Mont St Michele is that it really is 3 buildings on top of each other – with the Abbey at the top. Seeing the pillars that were built to support the Abbey above – the massive weight of the stone above that had to be supported – its no wonder that they decided to bolster the columns underneath.

Breaking the lunch curse – Oysters in Cancale

During our trip around Scotland Tony and I seemed to be followed by a lunch curse – wherever we went at lunchtime was closed for the season – the only places being open being truly terrible. On several days we went without lunch, eating a bag of crisps, and holding out for dinner. Not ideal.

We well and truly broke the curse this trip (and to be fair have had some lovely lunches on trips since then – but this takes the cake). Carole our host at the B&B had recommended that from Mont St Michele we should head over the boarder to Brittany and have lunch in the fishing village of Cancale. She told us that it was known for its oysters – but we didn’t want to get our hopes up.

Having taken our time at the Mont, it was 2pm by the time we left and I was worried that anyone open for lunch on a Sunday would be closed – it was France after all and places aren’t generally open. We arrived in Cancale at about 3pm and dropped down from the tablelands onto the little town, surrounded by a steep hill and ringed by water so aqua blue you would have thought you were in an advertisement for a resort. We found a park and wandered along the sea-front admiring the view – it was a bright sunny afternoon, a light breeze and lots of people were out and about for a stroll by the sea.

Doing some quick research on the iphone had said that there were innumerable restaurants by the water selling very good seafood at reasonable prices – but that if we wanted something really fresh and special – to head all the way along the beach to the oyster sellers in their blue and white stripped tents at the end of the pier. The traders here sold oysters of all varieties and so fresh you ‘couldn’t get fresher unless you picked them out of the water yourself’. For 6 Euros we bought a dozen which the girl shucked for us, gave us a lemon cut in half, and two plastic knives. The instructions were ‘throw the shells in the sea, bring the lemon remains, knives and plates back to me’.  We took up a perch on the sea wall with our feet dangling over the water and got stuck in. It was truly heavenly. The only thing missing was a beer, or a glass of white wine. We tossed the shells to the waves and watched as they clattered down the wall or landed with a ‘plop’ and a splash into the water. The floor of the sea below was covered – a midden of oyster eaters’ efforts over the years.

Thinking that 6 oysters each wasn’t really lunch we stepped into the café on the end of the pier and decided we’d order some more seafood. The ‘Grand’ for 2 was the smallest of the platters – and even then we couldn’t finish it. Washing down achingly fresh prawns, more oysters of various varieties, spider crab with local cider in the sun was just the perfect finish to the afternoon. We did discover that all the names of things on the platter that we didn’t recognise meant that there were things we had never seen before! We ate interesting wide round things (like oysters but tougher and chewier), tiny little black sea snails (for which we were given a little pick to drag them from their shells) and larger green sea snail (don’t ask) all of which had been cooked in an interesting garlic broth so were actually like eating snails ‘a la Parisien’ except the sea variety rather than the garden variety – and not slimy at all. They took a bit of courage but worth it in the end.

After a 2 hour drive home reading James Herriot til we cried both with laughter and real tears, we arrived just at dinner time back in Bayeux. We wandered round the very quiet little town looking for one of the other recommendations from Carole – sadly all but one were closed on a Sunday – not that we missed out. Lion D’Or was the rather unassuming restaurant attached to the hotel of the same name. We were seated in the very ordinary dining room (which is apparently being refurbished) and handed the menu. Honestly – I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many things I wanted to eat on a menu – all regionally sourced ingredients presented with imagination and skill. They handled the egg allergy amazingly well – whipping out a complementary pre-starter – a special one for me with some sort of salty salmon moose (no egg) with crème fresh and pickled cabbage. The rest of the meal made you want to run your finger along the plate to catch any remaining sauce and lick it at the end. Topped off with very good service.

William the Conqueror and the Bayeux Tapestry

I had always thought that the reason the tapestry was called the ‘Bayeux Tapestry’ was that it was made there. Apparently not. There is a lot of argument about where it was actually made – but not there. It was commissioned (most think in England) and brought to Bayeux to be hung up once a year during a feast to remind the population there – mostly illiterate – of the bravery of the Duke of Normandy their ruler and now king of England. For this reason it sets out in such intricate detail the Norman version of the conquest that the peasants could be left in no doubt of the power of their feudal system.

I knew that it was one of those things that you saw if you could when you were in France, but until today I never realised why. The audio guide that you receive with your ticket whisks you through the story, so you don’t have to read it or work it out for yourself, almost too quickly gives a wonderful sense of momentum and excitement to the story. However I had to pause it several times to visually take in the stunning detail of the embroidery in front of me. The chain mail was one of my favourites, each link stitch representative of the links in the mail. The horses were also beautifully done, their legs and bodies so well represented in the 1000 year old embroidery that you could have been watching a modern illustrated cartoon. Most moving was the detail of the human figures – the pointed figures of various characters including God himself, the beards, moustaches, and hunched forms, the heads detached from the bodies in the battle scenes, and then the bodies stripped naked after the battle. Each detail painstakingly stitched. It has given me a renewed enthusiasm for embroidery. Sadly the gift shop didn’t sell DIY kits.

We left Bayeau and started our journey home – 2 hours on the train to Caen followed by 2 hours on the Eurostar to London. Lots of books read, lots of blog written. A wonderful long weekend away. In little more than 2 weeks we’ll be in Italy for Tony’s 30^th… can’t wait.

Bath-ed in Austen

Bath-ed in Austen

Our trip to Bath really started the first time I read an Austen novel. Not only did Austen spend several years of her life there, but two of her books are set largely in Bath, making its key attractions – the baths, the Pump Room and the Assembly Rooms familiar to her readers. So almost 20 years after I first became aware of Jane Austen, I finally got to visit beautiful Bath.

Once we had actually fixed a date, I took up a mission of reading Tony as much of Austen Bath as I could. Our drive down consisted of me reading Persuasion aloud in between navigating but I didn’t make it as far through the novel as Anne Elliot’s arrival in Bath. This was only a real pity as we were booked into stay at the Georgian terrace house used by the BBC in their adaptation of Persuasion. The house really was stunning – 12ft ceilings in the bedrooms, a ballroom and library on the first floor. Our room (Mrs Clay’s room) overlooked Sydney Gardens and the Holborn Museum. The house is used by visiting groups coming for the Austen festival and they put on dances in the ballroom on the day before the Austen ball each year as a warm up. We were given a quick tour – but you can see the beauty and detail of the restoration yourselves on their website. The house itself – and the line of townhouses in which it sits has an interesting history. Queen Charlotte (wife to George III (the mad one) and mother to the Prince Regent (later George IV) stayed in one of the houses during her stay in Bath. The house was built in 1806 at the height of Bath’s popularity and housing boom – it was sold shortly after it was bought for such a princely sum (1200 stirling) at the height of the boom that it did not achieve a similar until the 1940s. Across Sydney park is where Austen herself lived – leaving a few years before the house was built. It seemed an excellent place to base my Austen indulgence.

Much preparation went into the trip – quite apart from booking the car and the accommodation. The Visit Bath website does an excellent job of suggesting activities for Bath tourists – after all – Bath has been a tourist attraction since the Roman’s claimed the hot springs for ‘their’ goddess and built the baths – you’d expect after 2000 years they’d be good at it. In particular were two downloadable self-guided walking tours. Rather than join a large group in the central square to be marched around the town hearing only half of what is said, with a guide pointing out all the things you should come back and do after the tour (like actually going inside places), downloading the tours enabled us to ‘do’ Bath at our own pace and in our own order. There was one tour following in Austen’s footsteps and focusing on the key places in her novels – and the other focused on the historical buildings that form the basis for Bath’s world heritage listing. The two tours overlapped a lot and we mixed and matched the chapters as we got to each point on the map.

We started early on Saturday morning in the Abbey Square outside the Roman Baths. All tips from friends and family was that the Roman Baths got busy late in the day – so we went there first – no line – only one group of school kids who each had an audio device to keep them occupied. Even after all the things we saw last weekend – the baths really stood out as our favourite. The moment we walked through the entrance and saw the main pool with steam rising off it in the cool morning we were struck. No wonder it was a spiritual sight for people (romans and common people alike. The pool at the source was even more impressive with bubbles of gas rising slowly through the water which must have seemed like spiritual intervention. My favourite part was the ‘curses’ that have been recovered from the baths – requests for the goddess to wreak revenge on the person that stole a pair of shoes, a dress or a cape from some hapless bather. The victim employed a scribe to write the message on little pieces of lead which were then folded up and cast into the pools. Thousands have been recovered – it must have been a hive of thievery!

We lunched in the Pump Room overlooking the baths. Once and still a centre for tea and gossip it is still one of the places you can drink the water from the spring – once thought to have health benefits. and central to Bath’s success. The recommended dose of spring water was 6 pints at one time – I can’t really fathom drinking 6 pints of water a day let alone water that tastes like that. a mouthful was sufficient.

After a light lunch and tea we started on our audio tour. I had left my ipod behind in London so had to link into Tony’s headphones which meant we were joined at the ear (and the hip). Tony relished the control and frequently stopped the audio to remark on the sights, or add his own commentary. The tours led us through an examination of Bath’s ‘terrace’ houses which were built to provide the wealthy with a sense of grandeur whilst housing them in much smaller quarters than their country estates. The idea of ‘terracing’ the landscape to provide enough flat space to build these grand houses on the side of the hills enabled construction of this beautiful town in a planned and coherent manner rather than having to work around the landscape. The coherency of Bath also came from the original developers and land owners who mandated that all new buildings be constructed from Bath stone (the pale yellow stone only conveniently available from said developer’s quarry).

The tour took us up the Gravel Walk where Anne and Wentworth ‘get back together’ in Persuasion, to the Royal Crescent. The museum of a typical Regency era house at No 1 was unfortunately closed, however we did promenade along the front and admired the Ha Ha. I had told Tony numerous times of the fashion for using HaHa’s in the Regency era to gain a sense of being close to the countryside without allowing cows and peasants to wander on your front lawn.

The HaHa outside the Royal Crescent provided the wealthy occupants the advantage of viewing the landscape without inconvenient fences to spoil the vista. It was really quite impressive and quite a barrier.
Around the corner to the Assembly Rooms and the fashion museum in the basement. I particularly loved the rooms – imagining the throngs of people dancing and dining in these rooms over the centuries. A ball of 1000 was considered small in Austen’s day. The rooms are still used regularly for events including the Austen ball and i’m tempted to make it an early 30th birthday present to myself to go to the festival and ball in September.We wandered from the Royal Crescent to the Circus where we stood and listened to the audio whilst watching a guy on a very beautiful bike ride around and around the circus whilst another man tried to take his photo without any cars in the background. We couldn’t work out which component of his outfit they were trying to capture for what was obviously an advertisement so we snooped on their conversation while the rider was stopped. It was his hat.

We wandered – with sore feet – down the hill towards Great Portland St and home. A delicious dinner at the nearby boatshed and we fell into bed.

Standing Stones.
Our secondary mission for the drive home from Bath was to see Stonehenge.

We caught up with our friends (and surrogate parents in the UK) Rose and Nick who live only 40 minutes from Bath and met us in Monkton Combe for a delicious roast lunch. We has some time to kill between checking out of the B&B and heading to lunch that we decided to kill by driving a very round about way down tiny lanes and through muddy farmyards. There were some nervous moments where we weren’t sure our little hire car was going to get out of the mud and we prayed that the hill on the way up wouldn’t resemble the hill on the way down or there would have to be some pushing. We were lucky and escaped without getting bogged – and were still early for lunch.

Nick and Rose suggested that we fit the standing stones at Avebury into our trip home – as well as Stonehenge. We were going to be cutting it fine as we left lunch at 2pm and we had to be back in London in time for our last haircuts before our lovely Australian hairdresser went home to Melbourne.

We went to Avebury first – walking through the paddock between the carpark and the village which was built in the middle of the circles of 6000 year old standing stones. I wondered whether the residents were related (distantly) to the people who erected these graceful s=megaliths. They were quite amazing. I was thinking that they would be little – like fields of standing stones I had seen with mum and dad when we were in France in 1998 – but these were really big – like twice our height and breadth big.

They weren’t in perfectly concentric circles – but that doesn’t really matter – they were amazing. What was even more impressive was the trench/moat/ditch around the site. It added defenses to the village and the site – and a convenient hill for kids to roll down. My favourite fact was that the remains of a medieval surgeon were recovered from under one of the stones that had fallen (been pushed) over.

 

He still had coins in his pocket – a sign that he was potentially squashed flat by the stone as it fell. Serves him right.

We piled back in the car to get to Stonehenge and then home. I spent the last 2 miles of the approach looking out to get the first glimpse as i’d heard that you just suddenly came across it over the crest of a hill. Unfortunately we arrived just after the Stonehenge site had closed and we were no longer allowed to walk up close. We stood rather forlornly on the side of the highway taking photos over the fence. It was a bit sad. I think we should try again on our next trip to the West – to Cornwall perhaps
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