The “not so festive” Festive Turkey tour continues.

It’s Christmas Day but only for the fact that Amanda, my roommate, has a red reindeer jumper on, you wouldn’t know. Up early and off to Troy! Yes, it is a real place, although much Greek mythological events occur here, I think. Troy was rebuilt 9 times- the previous settlement was razed to the ground by earthquake or war- but the one we know most about was the 6^th Troy. It was only when they lost their harbour because the river completely silted up that it was never rebuilt.

We could see the different levels because of the way the walls were built and the type of material used.  A German guy in the late 19^th century destroyed much of it by excavating wildly to find the treasures of the Palace. I’m not sure if he succeeded or not! I climbed up the replica Trojan horse with Nicki, but had trouble climbing down again. There was a huge lineup of Japanese tourists waiting at the bottom by the time I reached the bottom!

On, on, to Pergamon and the Akropolis.  Of course the Akropolis was at the top of a mountain, which could only be reached by walking up goat tracks, or taking the glass lift and then the cable car. I opted for the latter option. I entered the cable car with trepidation, but thought I’d video the ascent to take my mind off it. It worked- I remained calm. My fellow passengers, Nicki and her dad, Dave: Ashika and her husband Vikash: were great companions and kept me talking the whole way.

The ruins up here were amazing and the views were spectacular. Every sound from the valley below floated up, even a dogs bark! We walked around with our guide Faruk, until he descended a long stairway. I thought we’d probably have to come up again so decided to give it a miss, and walk around the other side of the mountain. A few of the roup followed me, Merrin, Rae, Margot, Carmel, Kelly and John while the rest went with Faruk down to the amphitheatre.  Merrin is a Kiwi who lives and teaches in Bristol, Rae is a beautiful Indian girl who lives in Singapore, Margot is retired and lives in Bundaberg, Carmel, her daughter, teaches in London, and Kelly and John are both NZ chemists who live and work in London. We didn’t discover the ruins of the palace, but we did discover the most amazing views. This was also once a harbour, which was now landlocked. It once had the second biggest library in the world after Alexandria and was where parchment was first used for books. In Alexandria, they used papyrus.

I managed to make my way back to the meeting point at the top of the cable car, and found a very comfy lounge chair to sit down and wait for the rest of the group. Two dogs were playing at my feet so I videoed it for Keeley until my phone died. I spied a very beautiful pashmina, which would suit Stacey, but was more money than I had left in my wallet, so I bought a pomegranate juice instead, squeezed fresh right in front of me, which she spilt over my pants and shoes! She apologized, made me another but still charged me 4 lira. It was delicious though!

Back into the cable car for the trip down. Genie, Pat and Ron were with me this time. I explained my fear and told them about the Sentosa cable car crashing in Singapore, but Genie didn’t want to hear. I think she’s just as scared as I am, but doesn’t tell people. Ron explained about the strength of the cables- he was an engineer in the mines in South Africa, and sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

Then on to our hotel for the next two nights, the Hotel  Tatlesis. I had bought a Christmas dress at one of our rest stops to wear to the planned Christmas party tonight, but after a huge buffet dinner, most of the group retired to their rooms. I piled my plate high with fried chicken, rice, and what I thought were calamari rings, but were actually onion rings. They were so delicious I went back for seconds. I had to order a beer to wash it down! There was a huge dessert selection, of which I chose creamed rice, chocolate mousse, rice pudding and I think some more halva. I didn’t want another beer so ordered a Baileys since it was Christmas Day. It cost almost as much as my Christmas dress!  Ashika and Vikash came late to dinner, so I sat chatting go the and sipping my Baileys until the restaurant closed, when we retired to the bar area for more chat. Ashika is also a teacher in South Africa. By the way, she has the most beautiful feet. Vikash shyly admits he used to sit in the library at University looking at her feet under the desk!

It was quite late before we went to bed, but we have a late start tomorrow. We don’t have to be on the bus until 8.30am. Woohoo! The day was fine, but rain was forecast. Firstly, we visited the Zirve Carpet and Kilim shop. I had no interest in buying a Turkish carpet, but after seeing the demonstration, all I want is a silk rug, which costs $6800! (see photo, and it was a thousand times more beautiful than the photo!) People were oohing and aahing over the woollen rugs, but most of them left me cold. I did like the ones made from different coloured sheep’s wool, and had not been dyed at all. They are all hand woven and take the women and girls months or even years to make. I cannot think of anything worse than being a rug-weaver- I’d rather work in one of those Roman brothels!

Off to Ephesus, another of the ruined cities, but not as ruined as Troy or Pergamon.  Just as we got out of the bus, it started to rain. There was nowhere to take shelter, and the streets were marble blocks and very slippery. I was extremely thankful to have my stick, or I would have become a cropper several times. I only slipped twice and tripped once, which is pretty good for me. The rain continued until we arrived at the Roman bath-house, where the sun came out and shone brightly. Within a minute, I went from freezing cols to boiling hot. I took off as many clothes as I could carry, and was still hot. The marble was still wet and slippery though.

By the time I reached the exit, I was in agony.  I don’t know if it was the slipping or the trying so hard not to slip, but all I wanted was to get back to the hotel for strong painkillers, but no, we had to go to lunch first at a local Gozleme place, for a huge pancake filled with meat, vegetables and cheese and home-made ayran. Everyone else went inside to sit on cushions on the floor, but I stayed outside on a straight-backed bench in the hope of easing my back pain, Faruk and several kittens joined me! Then to the bloody Virgin Mary’s house, where she supposedly lived, well not actually lived, but it was supposedly the spot where some nun DREAMED she lived! What a load of claptrap! Only four people got out of the bus, and I was not one of them! They came back after twenty minutes drenched to the bone as the skies had well and truly opened up during their visit. I was almost happy to be in pain and not wet!

We finally made it back to the hotel, where I was straight to my room for a “bex and a lie down”. I thought I’d drop off to sleep but was pleased I didn’t, as Claire came back after a walk to the beach, and invited me to Dave and Nicky’s room for a Jameson’s. The trammel had done its job and I was human enough to accept. The whisky did me the world of good on top of the trammel, but I must have appeared drunk as I couldn’t talk properly.

I was hoping for the delicious dinner like last night’s, but there were no onion rings or fried chicken so I had to be happy with the rice. I made up for it with desserts! Once again, the party didn’t eventuate, so Amanda, Joanna, Nicki and Dave joined Ashika and me in the lounge bar for a chat. I had a pepsi light with dinner, so didn’t order a drink. I headed off to bed leaving the rest of them chatting.

Tomorrow we are off to Pamukkale, one of Europe’s top 20 hot spots. I am really looking forward to it. From all accounts, it’s simply amazing.

Another 8.30am start, so I’m fully recovered, and first on the bus! But before we start the trip, we have to go to the leather shop! I wanted to stay on the bus, but was pleased I didn’t. They put on a whole leather jacket fashion show- you’ve never seen leather jackets like these! The softest, lightest, most colourful leather jackets of every style imaginable- even double sided, so you get two jackets in one. The one that took my fancy was a red and black reversible loose-fitting coat with tassels on the bottom edge. I tried it on and swanned around the shop. The longer I kept it on, the cheaper it became. It was $1500 to begin with, and was only $1300 when I left the store. I struggled to resist temptation- it was only the thought of how many weeks I’d have to work to pay it off that stopped me. Also the whole tour group thinks I’m poor, which I am in comparison!  Even Margot who’s retired bought two carpets! Lots of the other girls went to the bag shop at the back and bought Chanel and Louis Vuitton handbags.

At last we arrive at Pamukkale just in time for lunch. Everyone headed into the town, while I headed up the pure white mountainside. I had to take my shoes off as soon as I reached the calcium carbonate deposits, as they were being dirtied by tourists with muddy shoes. Walking in the warm water was lovely, but most of the mountain was dry white rock or white mud, so by the time I was a hundred metres along, my feet were cold. After another hundred metres, they were even colder! I was stopping very briefly to take a photo of not only the white rock and the travertine terrace pools, but also the views! By the time I reached the top, my feet were numb with cold and I was breathing heavily from the exertion.  This was  the definitely the closest I had ever come to mountain climbing. I felt a sense of achievement especially since none of the rest of the group had attempted it. I put my sandals back on and headed for the Antique Pool, paid my 32 lira to swim and went to get changed. Even with just my togs on, I wasn’t cold as I was still hot from the walk up. I deposited my gear in a locker for 10 lira, and was given a wristband with an actual key attached- none of this magnetic wristband nonsense here!

Ah, the pool! Swimming in the warm water amongst the Roman ruins was something very special. The bottom was covered with pebbles, but I only touched it when I walked in. The pool deepened to more than 3 metres, and I found a marble column submerged to just the right height for me to sit on, but still keep all of my body submerged except for my head, of course. I relaxed here for the afternoon allowing the curative properties of the water to work their magic. Faruk appeared at 3, and told me I had to be back at the bus by 4. I swam to the deepest (and hottest) pool again, and made my way across the ruins to the exit, only stopping to let the waterfall pound down on my shoulders and back.  I clambered out, grabbed my sandals and sarong and ran to the lockers. I was shivering so much I had trouble putting the key in. I could not get dressed fast enough!

I wandered back to the bus through the ruins of Hieropolis stopping to buy a magnet for 2 lira, and once again was first back to the bus. After a half hour rest at our quaint hotel called the Pamaksu, we were out to see the Swirling Dervishes. They didn’t swirl very fast, but their swirling put me to sleep. Worse still, I was front row! Well, if they really were in a trance, they wouldn’t have noticed. The hour show finished after half an hour, and we were all left shaking our heads and wondering when the photo opportunity would occur. It didn’t. Back to the hotel for a another buffet dinner, and so to sleep.

Off to Capadoccia in the morning, stopping at the birthplace of the first whirling dervish, Mevlana. There was a whole museum here about the dervishes but it was packed with tourists! On, on, on to Capadoccia arriving at 7.30pm. We checked in, and checked our room out. Yay! It was big enough for the three of us! Another buffet dinner. They had Capadoccian wine on the menu so thought I’d try a glass for 10 lira. I haven’t had wine since Troyes! It was average at best, and I wound up with a splitting headache by 11pm. I drank some water thinking it was a dehydration, hangover headache, but wondered how I could get such a bad hangover from one small glass of red wine! I managed to fall asleep, but woke up at 2am wondering if I was going to survive the night. I had drunk all my water so went down to reception in my pyjamas to get some more- you can’t drink tap water here- but no amount of water or panadol would relieve my head. I eventually showered and headed down for a coffee and breakfast.

I only ate some cereal, some egg and some yoghurt, not my usual pig out! My head finally cleared but the pain moved to my stomach. I didn’t want to miss my day in Capadoccia so rushed about getting ready. I was afraid I’d be last on the bus, but in fact, I was first.  We headed to one of the underground cities, but I could only manage the first level. I really thought I was going to be sick. The landscape here is amazing and even though I spent most of the day either on the bus or in the toilet, I still enjoyed it. I didn’t go into the onyx jewellery shop, but stayed outside overlooking Pigeon Valley. It wasn’t nearly as cold as was expected. I didn’t visit the churches called the open-air museum, but I did go to the underground pottery museum and pottery demonstration. Joanna made a pot, and to everyone’s surprise, she is a really good potter!

Back to the Tassaray Hotel for one last dinner. I hadn’t eaten all day and decided to try to eat something. A small piece of chicken breast, rice and a few chips were all I could manage before rushing back to my room. I did bring a rice pudding with me, which I might try to eat before I go to sleep, as I am starting to feel a little better. Amanda and Claire have gone out to a traditional Turkish folklore evening (all you can eat and drink), but in the circumstances thought I’d better give it a miss. We’re off at the crack of dawn tomorrow- again- I think they try to fit too much into a day. We were only 6 nights on the road and 4 nights in Istanbul. I would have much rather had 2 more nights on the road, and travelled at a more leisurely pace.

The tour ends tomorrow. Although I’ve enjoyed Turkey, I don’t think I’ll ever do another tour on my own. I’m really looking forward to touring Portugal with Stacey as my tour guide!

The Turkey tour starts…

I woke up to another beautiful day. After enjoying a leisurely breakfast, I retired to my room considering my options for today- go on a cruise of the Bosphorus or return to bed for a nap. I was contemplating this when the phone rang and it was reception saying I had to vacate my lovely loft room and move to another shared room. I had just washed socks and undies and had my gear strewn around the room. I thought I had another two nights here! Fortunately, the assigned room was just down the hall so I packed up quickly and moved to my new room.

After all of this exertion, I decided I needed a massage so headed down to the basement to see if Leila was available. First, the sauna beckoned, which I shared with a Turkish guy and a Japanese girl with whom I chatted and helped to pass the time before my massage. Then the blissful massage! My legs were quite sore to begin with, but Leila massaged the tightness away. I then thought a little exercise was in order so I went for a swim in the heated pool. Ah, lovely!

Then back to my new room to shower and wash my hair. It was a triple room. I had been wishing for company, and here I was sharing a room with not just one, but two, others! There were three single beds but no room between them, so I chose the one next to the window, which had a bedside table and a chair. Claire, a lovely South African girl who has been living and working in London for the past 4 years, was the next arrival, so she chose the bed on the opposite side which also had a bedside table. Claire and I headed out to an early dinner to the restaurant Yavuz had recommended. I had tomato soup and iskender and Ayran, and Claire ordered a less adventurous pizza and coke, followed by cappuccino for Claire and Turkish tea for me. The total was 51 Turkish lira (about 17 euro). We headed back to the hotel to meet the rest of our group, and then to bed. Our third occupant arrived from Edinburgh. Poor Amanda was stuck with the middle bed. She’s an Aussie on a 2-year work visa for the UK.  We all managed to get to sleep and stay asleep most of the night.

Next morning, we woke, showered, breakfasted, and met everyone in the lobby. We’d all introduced ourselves last night; a lot of teachers and retired teachers, and a lot of Aussies, Kiwis and South Africans living and working in the UK. Why, oh why, don’t I have a British grandparent? It’s all you need!

There are 19 of us in all, (which is why there’s one triple room) and we headed off to Aya Sofia, which is not far from our hotel. It used to be a Christian church but was turned into a mosque at some time a few centuries ago. We were supposed to go to Topkapi Palace but it’s closed on Tuesdays. Faruk, our guide, can talk underwater, and I’d had enough after an hour. Just standing round listening is not my idea of fun. We had audios to listen to him but it was easier to stay close and listen to his actual voice instead of his microphone voice.  As we came out we had to return the audios and earphones. I couldn’t see where to return them so asked the security guy who motioned to a small room so I opened the door and put mine in there. As we assembled outside, Faruk said there had only been 18 returned to the table. I said, “What table?” Apparently there was a table on which they were to be placed. First strike for me!

We were there so long we missed the entry time for the Blue Mosque and had to wait until after 12 noon prayers had finished. We stood in the middle of what used to be the Hippodrome with the icy wind blowing straight through us. I don’t know why we couldn’t go to a warm spot out of the wind and listen to its history. I hate all this standing around! After a quick visit to the Blue Mosque (we had to take off our shoes and put them in a plastic bag, walk through the rear end of the mosque, and then put our shoes back on), we headed to the Pudding Shop for a late lunch. I had potato and meatballs and my favourite Ayran to drink.

Faruk was sending some people to the Basilica Cisterns and some to the Grand Bazaar, neither of which I wanted to walk to, so I found my own way back to the hotel with the intention of catching up with my blog, but promptly feel asleep. I woke when Claire came in and invited me up to the rooftop to share Dave and Nicki’s whisky. I didn’t need time to think about that! It was lovely on the roof watching the sun go down whilst sipping a glass or two of Jameson’s!  I had arranged to meet Margot and her daughter Carmel for dinner at 6, and Dave and Nicki and Amanda decided to join us. They were not impressed with the restaurant Faruk had taken them to the first night- it was expensive, and not very nice and a tiny beer cost 15 lira! So round the corner we went to the same restaurant Claire and I had eaten at the first night. Claire had decided to wash her hair and skip dinner. The dinner was delicious again. I had the tomato soup again, and adana kebab, and we shared a huge Turkish pide, as well. Of course, I had the Ayran again, and convinced Margot and Dave to try it too.

Off to bed as we have a very early start in the morning. Of course I couldn’t go to sleep as I knew I had to be awake at 5am, breakfast at 6am, and on the bus at 7. Well, that was the plan. There was some sort of problem with the bus, and at 7.30, Faruk arrived and walked us down to the station to load our suitcases onto the bus. Faruk grabbed Margot’s suitcase, so she very kindly grabbed mine as I was struggling with my heavy backpack and my Thai bag with boots in it as well, (in case it got cold and wet). Finally, we were on the bus and off to Gallipoli.

We had one toilet stop on the way and I bought an iced coffee and a water to keep me going. Our first interesting stop was the entrance to the Gallipoli battlegrounds where we were greeted by half a dozen quite healthy looking dogs, including one very cute little puppy. Then off to Anzac Cove. What a military disaster that was, and all because they landed at the worst possible place, with huge cliffs overhanging the beach. I was amazed by the enormous number of soldiers from both sides, who died here during the 8- month campaign. 87,000 Turks and 8,709 Australians lost their lives here, also British, New Zealanders, French and Newfoundlanders. There were dozens of cemeteries. After Anzac Cove, where we all the Aussies and Kiwis posed for a photo, we visited a few of the dozens of cemeteries of both the Allied and Turkish troops. I found Lone Pine to be particularly sad.

It was after 3 o’clock when we headed down to the coast to catch the ferry across to Canukkale. But first, lunch! There was a lovely fish restaurant right on the sea where we ordered fish and chips, or in my case, calamari and chips. It was served with a delicious rice and tartare sauce. I ordered a beer (Efes, of course) but a 500ml bottle was too much for me so I poured a glass and gave the rest to Dave who shared it with John.

Our group walked down to the ferry terminal and walked aboard, climbed the stairs and took photos of the beautiful sunset, then made our way inside, as it was quite nippy out on the deck. We hopped back on the bus to drive off the ferry, and went to see the wooden horse used in the film ’Troy” and then to check in to our hotel for the night, the Anzac Hotel.

Once again, Amanda and Claire and I were assigned the triple room. I reiterated to Faruk that we had all paid for twin share, not triple share! He came up to see our room and agreed it was too small for 3 to share. (It was bigger than our room in Istanbul- at least you could walk between the beds!) So Claire was given a room to herself for the night, leaving Amanda and I quite comfortable in our room. Amanda headed out to explore while I showered. I felt really grotty from traipsing round the countryside and patting any number of stray dogs. I did intend to put on fresh clothes and head out too, but my pyjamas were close at hand, so put them on and hopped into bed, forsaking food for comfort. I was quite prepared to wait until breakfast but Amanda discovered room service so I ordered a scrumptious Canukkale halva and Ayran. I hope they have it for breakfast too!

A day out with a local

I woke up to a breakfast of sweet scrambled eggs (cooked in honey, I think) and pancakes and syrup. It was clearing to a gorgeous day, so I dressed quickly and met Yavuz in the lobby at 10.

He asked me what I would like to see so I showed him my list of the places I didn’t want to see (because they are part of my tour) so we headed off to the Dolmabahce Place which means something like “artificial garden”. It was the home of the last 6 sultans of Turkey before it became a republic. We walked down to the  water and across the bridge where dozens of fishermen had their lines over the railing and were catching lots of little fish, which Havuz assured me were delicious eating.

We hopped on a tram and arrived at the Palace within a few minutes. I stopped to take a photo of the elaborate clock tower, “Little Ben” before buying tickets for the Palace. We had to line up and wait for the English tour. Everyone had to put on blue, plastic  slip-covers on their shoes to protect the carpets. I sat down on a seat next to a friendly cat while we were waiting.

Finally we got to enter the administration section of the palace. It was beautifully decorated with huge crystal chandeliers, and was perfectly symmetrical in every respect. The staircases were all carpeted as were the floor, but the floors were very uneven so I was pleased I had brought my stick with me.  The last chandelier weighed 4 and a half tons and took 45 days to clean. Each piece is taken down and then it’s reassembled like a jigsaw puzzle. We weren’t allowed to take any photos inside at all. A photo probably wouldn’t have done its beauty justice in any case.

As we exited the palace, it started to rain so we hurried to the Harem section of the palace, and sat down to wait 25 minutes for the English tour. The gatekeeper offered us both a cup of Turkish tea, which was gratefully accepted. We eventually joined the tour with about 60 others, but only got to the first room with the guide and he abandoned us. So much for being part of a tour!

 We saw the study, bedroom and bathroom of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk who lived and died here, after the foundation of the Republic in 1924. The palace was built in 13 years from 1843 to 1856 and still has all of its original furnishings, including carpets and curtains. The chandelier in the Royal Women’s Hall was indescribably beautiful, with not only crystal droplets, but also ruby bells.

By the time we emerged from the Harem, it was pouring rain. I kept my blue plastic covers on my sandals, and Yavuz put on an extra pair for protection, but my feet were saturated by the time we exited the palace. Very soon I realized I was going to have to go back to the hotel to get dry feet, as they were now quickly becoming iceblocks!

We caught the tram back to the hotel and Yavuz encouraged me to find my own way.  I’m getting a feel for the place. With warm feet and boots on, we headed back on the tram to the Palace and then a bus to Yavuz’ favourite restaurant, Durumce. Yavuz ordered me Turkey’s traditional drink, Ayran, a fresh yoghurt drink, Kelle Paca, a traditional soup, and Adana Kebab. Before any of this arrived at the table, we were served five plates of starters free! Salad, spicy pita, pickled cabbage, tomato and onions mixed and parsley. I was full before I even got my soup, but I managed to get through the lot!

Most Turkish restaurants don’t serve alcohol so then we headed to Yavuz’ favourite bar for an Efes or two. We were planning to go on a boat trip, but I thought it was a waste of money in this weather, so headed back to my hotel, footsore and too tired for my massage.

An unplanned day in Istanbul...

I didn’t wake up until 8.30am so headed straight down to breakfast. I found some French toast for starters, then two 3-minute boiled eggs, which were as hard as rocks. Heavens only knows how hard the 5-minute eggs are! The found something that resembled muesli, and helped myself to a bowl, then back for some more French toast, all washed down with two cups of coffee.

I came back to my room, talked to Ross, who gave me enough confidence to venture out on my own. I checked what’s on my tour already and thought I’d try to find the Basilica Cisterns, so I loaded it on my maps and set off.

I was walking with a purpose, still being accosted by every single shopkeeper, but I managed to get there without entering a single shop. One man tried to sell me a leather coat! Another a Turkish carpet! Yet another invited me to see ”his collection”. I didn’t dare ask of what. I paid my 20 Turkish lira cash at the door and walked down the stairs to get an audio guide for 5 lira. To make sure I returned it, they wanted my passport! I left it at the hotel- thank you, Keeley!

I wandered around taking photos, and marvelling at the sheer size and the engineering skills of 6^th century Romans. I was approached to take a photo. Obviously he is worse at selfies than I am. I took a few (hopefully one is half-decent) and started chatting. He picked my accent as Scottish, so I kept him guessing until he got it right! I had to give him lots of clues. I thought he was Japanese, but he was actually of Korean heritage, but an American from San Francisco, who has never been to Alcatraz! He accompanied me on my walk back to my hotel, and even though the accosting continued, I just kept saying my friend is waiting for me and he would stop a few steps ahead and wait. It made the homeward journey much more enjoyable. We surmised that they keep on doing it because they might actually get one buyer out of every hundred.  The one that made me laugh said in English, “ Come in and let me spend your money!”

I arrived back at the Rocket Bar and ordered a Efes Pilsener, and tapped into their wifi, while I was drinking it and posted the photos I had taken and chatted to Liz, who was the reason I even knew about the Basilica Cisterns! Apparently I had missed the Medusa! Thanks, Liz! I jumped in the lift and hit the 6^th floor button but was delivered to the Turkish Bath in the basement. The receptionist asked would I like a massage, so I looked at the prices and the array of types of massages, and opted for a one hour “medicinal massage”. Leila was my masseuse and she was fantastic! Best massage ever; so good in fact, that I booked another two! I get free use of the Turkish bath, the sauna, the spa and pool, plus I received a mud facial for free! It was stinky mud, but my skin feels fantastic! I want another one of those before I leave Istanbul!

Finally, I made it back to my loft room, simply starving and devoured the rest of my cold pizza. It was divine- much tastier than last night- or maybe I was just hungrier! I checked the price of the beer in the fridge – 3 euro seemed reasonable-and opened one of them.

I watched another Doctor Who, listened to George Ezra and washed my hair before bed. This is the life!

What I’ve learned in 24 hours in Istanbul...

It’s big, very big.

It’s hilly, very hilly.

It has a harbour, a pretty harbour.

It's a cruise ship port as well.

They don’t celebrate Christmas, but they do celebrate New Year with Christmas trees, Santas and reindeer, and even the occasional angel. Weird!

There are lots of men, and hardly any women, at least not on the streets.

I’ve learned you should check out what the local money is worth before going to the ATM.

I’ve learned you should walk fast and look like you’re in a hurry, even if you’re not.

I’ve learned to shower after midnight if you like a shower of constant pressure and temperature.

I’ve learned that everyone expects a tip.

I’ve learned that anything can be done for a price, even dirty laundry.

I’ve learned that you have to wake up early if you want breakfast. It’s not good enough getting to the restaurant, and hoping they’ll leave stuff for you to eat.

I’ve learnt just because you love a particular food at home or in Europe for that matter, does not necessarily mean you will like it here. eg calamari was tasteless and tough as old boots and pizza was mostly capsicum, no tomato paste, and no olives.

The Efes Pilsener is quite quaffable though.

Paris to Istanbul

Can I survive on my own? This is the question no one knows the answer to, least of all me. I waited at Les Cars Air France Bus Stop at Charles de Gaulle Airport for more than an hour before a bus pulls in. They are supposed to be about every 30 minutes! I had seen at least a dozen during this time, but not one stopped for us. It wouldn’t have been too bad, except the bus stop was out in the open with not a single seat. The crowd grew larger with every passing minute and I’m sure not everyone managed to get on that bus.  I paid the driver my 21 euro, chucked my backpack in the luggage area, and endeavoured to find a seat. I sat near the window in the second seat back, but was so uncomfortable that when the aisle seat in front of me became vacant, I moved there. At least my knees wouldn’t be hitting the seat in front. The girl next to me had a broken leg, so I started chatting to her. She is German, but lives and works in southern Austria, and was on her way to her annual 3 week holiday in Reunion, a tiny island between Madagascar and Mauritius. It’s a 12-hour direct flight from Orly, but all she does when she gets there is relax on the beach and take photos. She is a professional photographer/writer who works on web pages. The time passes quickly when you’re talking. She and the rest of the people got off at Orly-Ouest, leaving me and one other couple on the bus for Orly-Sud. I was worried they’d left my suitcase behind on the footpath. They had taken it out but must have put it back in while I wasn’t looking. Inside the terminal was a huge departures board, but my flight wasn’t showing yet, so I sat down to watch for it. I thought it must come up soon as there were flights right up to 6.15pm and mine was 6.30pm.

After half an hour or maybe an hour, I gave up and went to Starbucks for the worst Club Anglais sandwich ever, but a delicious Christmas coffee.  Back to the board, and it still wasn’t showing, but came up very soon after so I headed to rows 45-48 to check in.  I was the first there. They hadn’t even put up the ropes yet. I waited at 45, but when the guy came to put up the ropes, he said that was for priority customers so I changed to 48. Some people lined up behind me, but most lined up behind the family who chose 47. The desks numbered 31 to 57 were all empty. Everyone was weighing their own luggage and children were hopping behind the desks pretending to be airline employees! I waited there for over two hours till the Pegasus staff appeared. The line I had chosen was designated Web Check-in but by this stage, I didn’t care. I had been sitting on my suitcase on my trolley so when I tried to push it forward, it wouldn’t move. I tried to dislodge the wheel without success, but took my suitcase off in order to get to the desk. In the meantime, the couple behind me jumped in front of me, but because I was over the yellow line, I was the one who got into trouble and was told to GET BEHIND THE LINE! I was affronted but dutifully agreed. No point in arguing!

I checked in my suitcase- not as heavy as I thought- and got my boarding pass and headed to gate 23, via customs and security. The customs lady spoke no English, so I had to explain I was not coming back here from Istanbul, but I had several more flights round Europe before I flew home to Australia. Security made me take off my boots, but there were seats so it wasn’t a problem. Finally, I was off to gate 23. Yes it was the furthest gate possible! I kept seeing signs with the gate marked and the approximate walking time! I was first here, which was a good thing because I nabbed one of the four lounge chairs available. The rest were uncomfortable airport chairs. Another hour and a half wait before boarding.  Yawn!

Finally, I get to board the plane. I have a seat in the first row which looks like exit row seats, but when I go to sit down, I can’t fit! I’m serious- they were like child’s seats! I know I’ve put on a couple of kilos in the last 5 weeks, but it wasn’t just fat that wouldn’t fit- it was my hip bones too! I mentioned to the hostess that I couldn’t fit and she said she’d get an extension seat belt for me, and I shook my head saying no, no, it’s this part that doesn’t fit gesticulating width with my hands. So not only am I the only blonde-haired English speaking person on board, I am also the FATTEST! I was ushered to two adjoining seats at the back of the plane. The shame! For punishment, my closest traveller was a teenage boy, whose body odour was indescribable. Who gets on a plane without a shower? I must admit by the end of the trip, I probably smelled like that as well.

Smooth take-off, very smooth flight, meals being delivered to passengers who had pre-booked them, I couldn’t resist. I asked for a meal which cost 11 euro. It was not bad for a plane meal, but no beverage of any description was provided with the meal, not water, juice, tea, nothing. The drinks cart was right down the front so I just had to wait. I asked for a water- 1 euro 50- I only had 1 euro 25 left, so tried all three of my cards! None worked. You’d think she would have taken my money and handed me a water but no, she enjoyed seeing me suffer since I had inconvenienced her with the seat. I asked for a plastic cup so I could get water from the tap in the toilet, and she just shrugged her shoulders. The cart went past, and I had to wait until it reached the back so I could get to the toilet. I filled it up and drank 3 glasses: I have never been so thirsty in all my life. I filled up my water bottle when I arrived at Sabiha Gocken Airport, and drank the entire bottle on the drive in. As soon as I reached my room, I drank another bottle of cold water from the fridge! At last, my thirst was quenched!

There was a man waiting for me at the airport (he had a sign with my name on it). He greeted me then said “Wait here!” so I sat sideways on a chair in front of a takeaway place, while he collected two more passengers. He then led us all outside and left them and walked me to a minivan on my own, which was driven by another man who spoke two words neither of which I could understand.  I climbed in the back and attempted to put my seatbelt on, but I couldn’t manage it so the driver motioned to me to sit behind him. I did as I was told, and sat for the hour’s drive into Istanbul with my knees scraping on a metal edge! Tired, hot and cranky, I couldn’t wait for to get to my room and jump in the shower.

All of the stresses of the day evaporated when I was taken to my loft room- the bed looked very inviting, and I opened the skylight blind so I could look at the stars.  After a harrowing day, I showered and fell instantly asleep.

Our last few days in France.

Monday.

Apart from the traffic jam around Milan, we had a lovely incident-free, but costly (because of the tolls) drive to Chevillard. We did get to see Mont Blanc- it’s so tall- and drive through the Mont Blanc tunnel, which was a bonus. We pulled into what we thought was a petrol station but was actually a SuperU. The checkout girl very kindly let us use their toilet, and so we bought a six-pack of Heineken.

WE arrived at our lovely French farmhouse b&b, which I only booked yesterday, to be welcomed by Patricia, our hostess for the next 2 days, and when I say welcomed, I really mean it. We were greeted with the kiss on both cheeks, and we immediately felt comfortable. She doesn’t speak English, so I had to use my halting, very bad, word-by-word French, but Patricia was so patient with me, we had some lovely conversations.  The speech was so slow Keeley was picking it up too.

We had been driving all day with nothing to eat so thought we’d go out to dinner. Patricia gave us two business cards so we headed to the closest one in Nantua. Wouldn’t you know it? Of course it was closed-it is Monday! We parked in their carpark and wandered down the street until we found a bistro open.

It looked pretty posh, so Keeley just ordered a vegetarian pizza, while I was more daring and ordered the four-course set menu- I was very hungry. First the salad- I don’t know what was in it but it was delicious, then the mains Quenelle au Sauce Nantua. I only ordered this because it was obviously a local specialty, but it was so scrumptious I not only went back for lunch the following day but got the recipe as well!

I can’t even describe the taste- but imagine scrambled eggs but mostly whites in a cheesy creamy shrimp sauce and you might be close to it. This local delight was followed by a platter of five different cheeses, and then dessert; crème brulee.  Keeley was tempted by the chocolate mousse, and we wonder why we’ve put on weight! My beverage of choice was the “ vin rouge de la maison” and Keeley’s was a “biere.”

We could see the lights reflecting in the lake as we walked back to our car and decided we’d come back tomorrow to see it in the daylight. Back to La Haie Fleurie for a good night’s sleep.

Tuesday 

We awoke late to a delicious homemade breakfast. Everything, except the butter and juice, was made by Patricia. Baguettes, croissants, pains aux chocolat, even the jams- “confitures” were all made in her country kitchen. There were 6 choices of jams- I couldn’t knock back the rhubarb- I think my favourite all-time jam.

Then off to Bourg-en-Bresse to see the cathedral, but alas it was closed for lunch, so we headed back to Nantua, parked the car and walked along the lake. We found the memorial to the 44 children who were captured by the SS in World War 2 and sent to concentration camps. Keeley wanted to visit the Museum of the Resistance and Deportation after learning the story. It was closed on Tuesdays, so she decided to visit at 10am tomorrow before heading off to Troyes.

Back to our favourite bistro for lunch. I chose the 3 course menu and so did Keeley. We both had a delicious salad with eggs and prawns, followed by Quenelle, and dessert; crème caramel for me this time.

We called into the Intermarche to stock up on a few essentials – one of which was a bottle of red to share with Patricia- and a beautiful poinsettia in a pot as a thank you for Patricia. She had outdone her duties as a b&b hostess. She was touched by the gift, and put it in pride of place in the window of the kitchen. We drank the red and chatted- when I say chatted, I mean word-by-word. She spoke slowly so I could understand and I spoke slowly because that’s all I could do!

Dinner tonight was breakfast cereal for me, and cup of noodles for Keeley. We were not very hungry after that delicious lunch! We emptied the car and packed our bags ready for our flights, as we may not be able to do it at our hotel tomorrow. We played a couple of games of  “Ticket to Ride” of which Keeley is the champion, no matter which country we play.

Wednesday

We woke up to a misty, drizzly day but managed to load the car without getting too wet. I wrote in Patricia’s guest book and she took our photo in front of her house. She was genuinely sad to see us go and we were just as sad to leave! We both loved it here. This was the experience we had been looking for at all our airbnb houses! As we drove off, she flung open the windows, and was hanging out waving “au revoir”. We were all crying.

We headed into Nantua again to visit “la musee de la resistance et la deportation” only to find it closed. It closes at the end of September! So off we went to Troyes. Another uneventful drive ensued. We passed 126 trucks before I became bored and stopped counting, saw 6 other cars, one bus and one motorhome, so I think we were on the truck highway!

For a change, our GPS had allowed us to actually enter the address of the hotel so we thought we’d have no problems locating it. By this time, it was raining and darkening, so we really wanted to get there. GPS “ turn left”, sign “no left turn”; GPS again “turn left”, sign”no left turn”! After this kept repeating again and again at different intersections, Keeley gave up in frustration and parked the car. We grabbed our backpacks and started to walk to the hotel asking directions along the way. We had actually parked not too far away from it. We arrived at the hotel wet and disheveled, to be greated by the concierge, ”Where is your car?” “Parked in a street.”  “Do you want to use the hotel carpark?” “No, it’s fine.” “Why did you not park in the hotel carpark? The address is right here on your booking form.” Typical! I hadn’t even seen it!

We reconsidered parking the car in the hotel carpark- we needed to get an early start in the morning so it may be 8 euro well spent. The concierge offered to drive as Keeley was all out of “calm and assertive”. Might I add, for only the second time this whole trip- the other time being when she locked herself in the toilet in the truckstop in Slovenia. I meanwhile went up to our “comfort room”- we had been upgraded- to dry off.

When Keeley returned, she related the tale of his driving being the scariest thing she had encountered this trip, and that included driving down the tram-only street in Zurich! Thank God I didn’t accompany her! As it turned out, he had never driven an automatic so was hitting the brake so hard every time he stopped, Keeley thought she was going to fly through the windscreen.

Once again, we had eaten nothing all day, so thought we’d head out for a last dinner together. Our hotel was in the centre of the old town and a stone’s throw from the town square where a few Christmas market stalls were set up, as well as a carousel, and lights and music- very pretty. (see Keeley’s video)

We chose one of the many restaurants surrounding the square simply because it advertised an English menu. We entered but were told they didn’t take meal orders till 7, so we ordered a champagne (real one) with kir royale –just a glass- you should have seen the price of the bottle!

At 7, our English menus were brought to us to peruse. Some things obviously can’t be translated so I handed my menu across to Keeley to use her “translate lens” to figure out what one particular item was. I wanted to order it, as it was the local Troyes dish.

I had forgotten about the little oil lamp on the side of the table, and the next thing I know, I was holding a flaming torch. In my attempt to put it out, I burnt the tablecloth, and made a mess with the ashes. Not only did our waiter not offer me another menu, he never came back! A much older man took over our service.

I settled on “les moules marinieres” from Mont St Michel, which were the best mussels I have ever had, small, soft and tasty and a huge pot full- at least 80 of them. Chips were served as a side. Keeley had fish and chips, during which time I told her all my terrible fish bone stories- most of which she doesn’t believe! We really were quite full, but shared a dessert platter with tiny crème brulee, chocolate mousse, millefeuille, pannacotta and macaroon.

We were planning on an early night so went to our car to get my suitcase to repack it. As we were walking down to the hotel carpark, we smelt a familiar smell, and I remembered the reason I had booked this hotel-it had a hot tub! We located it only to find it completely covered, but Keeley lifted the cover a tiny bit and I felt the temperature of the water- it was warm! So I went to reception to ask could we use it tonight. Yes, we could book it for an hour! They would call our room when it was ready. We could hardly wait. We really didn’t want to get our togs wet, as we had to carry them on flights tomorrow, so we went down, locked the door and stripped. We luxuriated in the 35-degree water, thinking what a fitting end to our trip together. When the hour was almost up, I showered and put on my pyjamas, thinking no-one would see me as we hadn’t seen anyone in the lift since our arrival this afternoon. Famous last words!

Thursday

Up early, a sumptuous breakfast at 6.30, and on the road by 7.30. Finally, it’s dawned on me- this is our last day together. Keeley’s been feeling sad for the past couple of days, but I’ve been ok. I couldn’t enjoy my breakfast and ate very little. Keeley, however, made the most of it. Only 2 hours back to Paris, well, that’s if there’s no traffic!

The last part of our trip was bumper-to-bumper traffic. At this stage, I was becoming very anxious to get the car back in one piece.  We managed to get back in the rental car drop off zone by following the signs, and were greeted by a young guy who inspected the car. Oh no! One of the hubcaps on the passenger side was scraped beyond recognition.  This happened on the first day driving through our first village, where the street wasn’t wide enough for two cars! When I mentioned that it was either hit the gutter or the oncoming car, he said he wouldn’t note it down. Keeley’s smile may have helped!

We found where Keeley had to check in for her flight to Heathrow, but since it was so packed you couldn’t even see where the lines started and ended, we decided to get me to the bus stop for my trip to Orly first.  I asked at information how could I get to Terminal 3, and when I was told, I mentioned as an afterthought I had to catch the Les Cars Air France bus to Orly.  Oh no! They leave from this terminal just downstairs between 2 E and 2F. Thank God I’d asked and not blindly believed the information I’d read on their site. Keeley grabbed me a trolley and we walked out to the bus stop, where we said our goodbyes as non-demonstrably as we could. God, I’m going to miss her!

Relaxing in Calolziocorte

 At last, a day of relaxation! We slept in, went downstairs to the café for breakfast, then asked for the bikes. This was the main reason I booked here; so we could ride leisurely along the shores of the lake. Problemo: only one bike! So we rugged up and started walking. Realising we weren’t going to get far, Keeley ran back to get the bike and we shared it- one at a time! On the way back, we sussed out a trash and treasure market- I have to say it was mostly trash- second or more likely fifth-hand stuff being sold by gypsies in vans and motorhomes, all looking very scruffy and dirty. It was spitting rain and the market place was muddy and puddly, not ideal for someone in socks and sandals.

After our walk/ride, we headed to the restaurant across the street for a bite to eat. I ordered vegetarian pizza while Keeley had her favourite gnocci washed down with a litre of red. For an Italian restaurant, the food was only just passable, with possibly the worst house red we’ve had the whole trip. However, it was packed with local diners so it must be to their taste! Their favourite dish seemed to be mussels. 

After lunch, it was siesta time. I had no sooner fallen asleep than I was awoken by the maid, who wanted to clean our room. No, no- we only want fresh towels! Try saying that in Italian! She blew us a kiss as she left. I suppose she will still get paid for cleaning the room even though she didn’t have to.

I went online to plan our trip tomorrow. We were to drive to San Remo. When Keeley saw the route back to Paris, she asked why we were driving the long way about 16 hours with 3 stops. I wanted to see Valloria, the village with the painted doors, which I missed last trip, but it didn’t seem fair to inflict all those extra driving hours on her so I looked at staying in Switzerland, maybe Vevey, Montreux, Lausanne or Gruyeres. After checking out accommodation and prices, I decided to head over the border to a little place called Chevillard in France where I managed to book the last room in a little B&B with breakfast included for $166 for 2 nights, less than half the price of Switzerland. That will give Keeley a day of rest before tackling the rest of the trip to Paris.

We have been really disappointed in our accommodation in Calolziocorte and will not be giving it a good review.

The website promised free onsite parking- the carpark was being asphalted and we had to park in a muddy paddock a hundred metres away. The website promised free bikes. There was only one! The website said breakfast to your room. Not so, we had to go downstairs to the café where all the villagers were drinking coffee and smoking. There was no milk for the cereals provided for breakfast, nor was their any milk in the room for the tea and coffee making facilities. Even though we are the only guests, we were not given a lake view room, and worst of all, website said, ”We speak all languages.” which is patently untrue. They speak Italian, and do not understand English, my terrible French or even Keeley’s sign language! The issue of the sheets for towels is insignificant in comparison to all of these other failings.

On the positive side, how many people do you know who have stayed in a monastery? We were serenaded to sleep by the choir singing Christmas carols well into the night.

We spoiled ourselves for dinner. We didn’t really have much choice. It was either go back to Lavello Ristorante or try out Osteria Marascia. It was delightful. The owner spoke English and chatted with us helping us choose our meals. The menu was in English. We drank a bottle of Prosecco as well- first night we haven’t had house red wine! After a delicious meal, we even had dessert- Keeley Japanese persimmon (kaki) and affogato for me. Our host invited us to put a pin on his map indicating where we lived. Another couple from Brisbane had visited, and only 6 other people from all of Australia in the last year. We felt special. I felt bad not leaving him a tip.

Off to Chevillard tomorrow!

What a day!

 The day started off well. I found my scarf-not at the theatre, but hanging over the back of the chair in our room! I know I’m hopeless!

Keeley then went to the top of the bell tower, while I waited in St Mark’s Square. A pigeon sat on my lap, and a beggar woman approached me. Third time lucky! She spots me every time I go out. She just doesn’t stop gibbering without taking a breath. I was trapped this time- sitting down with our two backpacks- and I did have 2 euro in the side of my purse. I became quite cold just sitting there waiting. 

Keeley came down, and we gathered our belongings and walked to the boat stop. 20 minutes until the next boat. I wasn’t feeling well. I had pains in my chest maybe from the cold air entering my lungs.

Boarded the boat and this is where things started to go dreadfully wrong. It’s a very long trip to the airport, but hey, I drive two hours at home, no problem. I really tried not to- but the end result was I wet myself somewhere between Murano and the airport. How embarrassing, but at least I wasn’t in severe pain any longer. I must have caught a chill while sitting in the square.

Off the boat and straight to the nearest toilet, which happened to be attached to a multistorey carpark. I couldn’t make it to the airport toilet, which was 10 minutes further on. I changed clothes, and off we went back to our car, which was parked in the carpark 12 minutes away. Unloaded our backpacks into the car, took off our jackets, where’s my purse? Not hanging round my neck, not in any of our bags, nor caught up in my jacket somehow.  Keeley then questions me without panicking, and deduces that I MUST have left it in the toilet. Do not ask me how, as she asked me as I was leaving, do you have everything? I scanned the entire area and saw nothing!

Oh my God! Everything was in that purse! Passport, visa, credit cards, cash cards, cash, phone. We didn’t even have any money or card to get out of the carpark!  Amazingly, I stayed calm- well, sort of, and tried to be positive. Keeley ran off back to the toilet, while I followed as quickly as I could, trying not to panic. Hardly anyone used these toilets- it would probably still be there. I saw Keeley come out of the toilets without my purse and my hopes sank. But she did have a piece of paper. As I approached, a man was calling to her. He had found my purse and had left a note to go to the Alilaguna office. I was so relieved to get it back I hugged him and gave him 20 euro! By this time, I was crying, but just with joy.

Back to the car and off we go. Not quite. Keeley scans our ticket and card at the gate, but the boom gate doesn’t open. Stay calm. Traffic piling up behind us! The person behind us comes over and gestures to a machine over to the side, so Keeley reverses, cars all reverse too, and we pull over out of the way. She allowed me to go to the machine as she had taken off her boots to drive, and I carefully read the steps and followed the directions exactly. I put the ticket in the correct spot, and the credit card, etc etc and it took  quite a few minutes to spit the ticket out. Keeley was getting out of the car to see what I’d done wrong! Not the 9 euro charge I was expecting, but 49 euro! So much for reading reviews on the net that said, park at the airport not at one of the private parking garages for Venice.

Apart from dodging crazy Italian drivers, one of whom almost wiped us out by pulling in front too quickly after overtaking, and getting lost near Milan International Airport, (we went round and round the same route twice before expanding the GPS to find we didn’t even have to do that roundabout!) and GPS freezing shortly after that, we had an uneventful trip to Calolziocorte.  Keeley’s scariest moments were on the huge roundabout with unmarked lanes, but I didn’t even see any of these near misses as I was concentrating on the GPS trying to tell which of the seven exits to take!

We found the Hotel Monastero del Lavallo without too much difficulty- it is after all, an old monastery, but do you think I could find how to get in? I opened one huge wooden door hesitantly, but it went into a large church, and kept walking round the corner till I found a wooden door that opened into a dark stone-flagged vestibule.  I followed it until I saw a sign saying Reception. Yay! But no, it was locked and no one was in attendance. I walked into a huge courtyard, and found a bar/café where I asked could I check in. The girl spoke no English, but by using sign language, I managed to convey to her I wanted to check in. She called another girl who also had no English, but she was able to check me in and show me our room, which was large with high ceilings and timber furniture, and a very big bed. Bathroom was also large, but had the weirdest towels you have ever seen! All towels were made of sheets or maybe white tablecloths, even the bathmat! I had never seen anything like it- and they were all really well ironed! Maybe the monks still run a laundry here?

Across the street was the Lavello Ristorante, just what we needed. We had eaten nothing all day- well, not quite true, Keeley had eaten the rest of her chocolate Santa while driving, and I had polished off the few remaining cookies from Hungary- but we were VERY hungry.

We waited until 5 before venturing over to the restaurant, only to find it doesn’t open till 6. Back to our room to have a glass of Baileys before dinner, and then back to the restaurant just after 6. It was open, but obviously had some sort of event on, there was food being prepared by the dozen, but were told we couldn’t eat here tonight. Oh I should mention, NOT one word of English was spoken- Keeley is great with actions. She said the look on my face was like they had told her they only served cat!

Back to our room to find somewhere to eat nearby. There must be something! Keeley found a restaurant on Trip Advisor 16 minutes drive away. We went to go out to our car only to find the entrance door locked and bolted. Keeley tried opening it but we worried if they locked it behind us, we wouldn’t be able to get back in. That would top off a perfect day- having to sleep in the car!  We thought we might be able to get back in via the bar/café, but it closed at 8, so asked the girl at the bar how could we get back in. Not only did she not understand a single word of English, she didn’t even understand Keeley’s impeccable hand actions. She finally resorted to google translate to get our message across. Still no undertanding, but she did call whom I presume was the manager who spoke to Keeley and told her there was an iron gate half way up the block where we would be able to gain access to the monastery after 8. The bar girl led us through the inner courtyard to the outer courtyard and opened the gate for us.

I really didn’t want to drive anywhere let alone up a winding mountain road in the fog and pitch black! The restaurant was nowhere to be found. Google maps on my phone were telling me we were WAY past it, so Keeley did a 7 point turn on the mountain road and headed back. We saw lights in a front window and a sign saying Santa Brigida Hosteria, and I ventured in to ask did they serve dinner. The lady I spoke to didn’t understand me at all, but went to fetch her husband who told me no, they could not do dinner, but to go to the Lavello Restaurant in Calolziocorte. I explained that we were staying across the road from there and they were closed tonight as they had some sort of function on. They were very astonished to hear that. I asked is there anywhere else to eat and he asked when do you want to eat, ”Now” and how many of you, “Two”, my daughter and I. Yes, he could feed us. I went out to bring in a very hesitant but very hungry Keeley , and he led us through to a swank restaurant, showing us huge vats with boiling meat inside on the way. Keeley was whispering “I’m not eating that, I’d rather starve!”

He was the most gracious host. We were the only ones in the entire restaurant but they were fully booked at 8, so they were preparing all the other tables. He asked would we like lake fish and rice to which we readily agreed, and offered us a glass of chianti which we gratefully accepted. He then brought our freshly baked bread and two types of Italian olive oil from two different regions, which we hungrily devoured. The fish and rice turned out to be the most delicious risotto you’ve ever tasted. We refused coffee and dessert, as we wanted to be gone by the time his other guests arrived. We were looking quite road-worn and bedraggled by this stage of the day, not to mention tired.

He was so lovely to us, when he presented the bill, I paid him 50 euro cash and told him to keep the change. We were so thankful to have been fed! Another traumatic drive down the mountain, well not so bad this time as the fog had lifted, back to our room where Keeley looked up the restaurant we had just eaten at and it was 4 and a half star! A good finish to a bad day. We’re going bike riding tomorrow!

A day in Venice

We woke up, ate breakfast, packed, cleaned and started the car. After unsuccessfully trying to remove the ice from the car by pouring hot water on it, Keeley tried the demister combined with scraping. The hot water only turned into more ice! Lesson learned!

We finally got going just before 10, stopped for fuel and iced coffee, and kept on flying along the highway to Marco Polo Airport. Some fast Italian drivers whizzed past us- we just got out of their way! We negotiated our way into the long park at the airport, put our day backpacks on and headed to the terminal where we purchased tickets for the water-bus, and followed the signs until we reached the harbour. As we were boarding the boat, the ticket officer asked where we were going, to which Keeley quickly replied “Venice.” I added, “San Marco”. It’s always been me stuffing up, but this time I had the last laugh. The look on her face!

After what seemed like hours, we arrived at San Marco. It seemed like hours because before each stop, I’d say to Keeley, “I think this is it!” because I’d see a tower! Do you know how many towers there are in Venice?

We walked across the square, and down the alley to the San Zulian. I booked the same hotel as 3 years ago, because I knew where it was. Venice is the easiest place in the world to get lost! We dumped our packs in the room and headed out to find some lunch/dinner as it was now after 3.30pm. Purely by chance, we stumbled onto one of the restaurants I’d eaten at 3 years ago! I ordered the 3-course special for 13.50 euro while Keeley ordered bruschetta and gnocci, plus a litre of house red. Not hungry anymore, we returned to our room to don some warmer clothes to go out,  as it was getting cooler. Wanting to make the most of our time here, I decided to take Keeley to the theatre to see Venezia, 1000 years of Venetian history, which Stacey and I saw last time. I thought I knew where it was- just up the end of the square and to the right. Well, I went one alley too far and became totally, completely and utterly lost. I think we even ended up on another island; we crossed enough bridges anyway! We finally found our way back to San Marco, and asked a policeman the way to Teatro San Gallo (I had remembered the name of the theatre, thank goodness!) He gave us explicit directions, and we found it easily. It was literally steps away from the square!

We were welcomed into the foyer, and asked for 2 tickets- 78 euro. I almost had an apoplectic fit- I’m sure they weren’t this expensive last time I was here. I said I think they were 12 euro 3 years ago, to which she replied, ”You’ve been here before?”  Apparently, that entitled us to an 18 euro discount! Guess what a bottle of prosecco costs? Yep, 18 euro. We sat down with our glasses and heard some Aussie voices so talked to the young couple from Sydney for half an hour until the play started. They are travelling on their own round Europe, just booking as they go.  They got a hotel room for 3 nights for less than ours cost for 2!

It was different from what I remembered, and I kept looking around to make sure someone didn’t come up scare me from behind again, but they must have deleted that from the performance after me giving the poor guy a heart attack last time!

Entertaining as well as informative. The word “bank” comes from the moneylenders who used to sit on the benches, “bancos”, on the bridges, in particular the Rialto Bridge. The word “carnevale” comes from carne- meat and vale- goodbye, goodbye to meat at the start of Lent. Also the lion is a symbol of Venice, never noticed them before, but there are 2,436 of them!

Once out of the theatre, we made our way back to our room stopping at the gelati shop on the corner. Our room seems like a doll’s house after our expansive mansion in Zbilje it also costs more for 2 nights here than for 5 nights in Slovenia, but hey, this is VENICE!

I slept soundly until Keeley woke me up at some ungodly hour and I couldn’t get back to sleep- she did though! Down to breakfast at 8am. We were the only ones there! We had cereal, yoghurts, juice, bread and jam and the best coffee yet! I asked for a pot of coffee and a jug of hot milk and made my own!

Off to the Doge’s Palace where I managed a 6 euro senior’s discount- I must look tired today!  We walked through room upon room of opulence and splendor that was on show to visiting royalty and dignitaries, while the Doge himself lived very frugally in apartments that are closed off to the public unless you do the secret itineraries tour which I did last time. Over the Bridge of Sighs to the prison cells where Keeley disappeared ahead of me. And wouldn’t you know? She was waiting around a corner and scared the living daylights out of me. She laughed so hard- apparently, I don’t just scare, I look terrified! She said the look on my face was priceless, but she didn’t capture it. That cheered her up as she was feeling a bit down in the dumps this morning.

Footsore already, we trudged on- we only have one day here- to Murano- or “Milano” as Keeley is wont to call it. We hopped off the boat at Murano and straight to the WC and paid 1.50 euro for the privilege- it’s gone up 50 cents in 3 years! We walked the whole length of the street, looking in at least twenty shops and still didn’t spend anything. We did, however, meet up with the Aussie couple from the theatre last night,who recognized us as they were walking past a shop. Talk about small world! We chatted for a while. What had they done this morning? Just been looking for accommodation in Rome and booking an apartment for 3 days. That’s one disadvantage of booking as you go!

We saw a sign for takeaway fish and chips, and we thought we’d save money by not having a sit-down meal. Not so- the “fish” and chips were 20 euro! The “fish” was squid and baby octopus, but we were HUNGRY!

Back to the serious business of glass shopping! We wound up buying from 4 different shops and spent 9 euro more today than I did 3 years ago. It was my big shopping day then, and was today too! I love this place!

Back to the boat! Just as I’m about to board the boat, I noticed I didn’t have my stick for support so back I went, up the long street, to find my stick. Of course I left it in the second last shop! We missed that boat.

Keeley just shook her head in disbelief! We caught the next boat back. I was aching all over, so I went straight back to our room to stretch out while Keeley went to climb the bell tower, which was impossible as it was closed. She roused me from my nap to go to dinner at the little Italian restaurant just round the corner from us in San Zulian square. We shared a pasta with basil, pinenuts and garlic- delish! And then had pizza. We should have shared one as neither of us could eat the lot. It’s in our little fridge right now! We did however polish off a litre of red.

Three Aussies from the Gold Coast sat at the table beside ours, and we started up a lively conversation, which lasted right through dinner. Two of them were very chatty and great travellers with funny stories, the third one barely said a word. They were all 20 (oh to be young, even Keeley felt old!) and two of them were at uni studying to be teachers. Harry was the history/geography teacher so we had a lot in common. Nathan was the Keeley sort of traveller (he loves Harry Potter for example and drove to a town in Switzerland just because it had the same name as something in Harry Potter!)

When I went to dinner, I was dragging myself along- amazing how some scintillating conversation (Keeley asks is she not scintillating enough?) can pick one up- I was all ready for a night on the town with them- but alas, I had to return to the theatre as I left my scarf there last night! Hopeless! I didn’t find my scarf, but Keeley found a mask she loved and since she knew the history of the masks in Venice, I bought one for her. She tried on a few and we fooled around and took some photos. The girl gave me a discount because I was at the show last night! This place is discount heaven! I love Venice!