Deep fine leg

Wednesday 1 July 2009
Finally learned – we did nothing in the morning. On the train to Venice at 11.35pm. Another nice, relaxing trip. Arrived in Venice around 3pm, and for the first time, got us lost, sort of. Took a wrong turn, as you do in Venice. So decided the sensible thing to do would be to take a water taxi. 50 euros later (and 3 minutes) we arrived at our destination. But whatever, Venice can be tricky so I decided to wear that one.
The place where we stayed – in Dorsoduro – was just sensational. Lovely 15th century palazzo, big rooms, lovely little balcony and not far from Piazza San Margueritta. And somewhat away from the turisto areas of the city.
Had dinner in the Piazza – some more wine - and did a condola ride (another big hit, but Venice, say around 9pm, setting sun on a gondola was pretty sensational). We all had an early night.

Thursday 2 July 2009
We had decided that we would do a little shopping in the morning before catching the ferry to Burano for some sight seeing and lunch. Woke up again with the feeling of having a hangover. Felt that way since we arrived but didn’t think I had consumed that much to feel so poorly early in the day. Oh well.
We caught the ferry – just – and spent three hours on Burano. I don’t Christine found it as interesting as last year. I didn’t find it interesting at all last year, but it does have some nice little restaurants. But we were all super relaxed – a litre of rose over lunch helps. Found a shady tree to sit under waiting for the ferry and that might have been nice if I had not, somehow, decided to sit in the doggo turdo. I made 4 people very happy but I, for one, was not amused.
Having cleaned myself off, we caught the ferry back to the main island and wandered around to the Ghetto area (Ains had studied the Merchant of Venice was keen to see the place). A long detour but a nice one. I bought some spaghetti and pesto and made some dinner for us at our ‘shack’. And some wine. And some beer.
For my first cooking experience in Italy, I think it went pretty well. Venice, you’ve got to love this place.

Friday 3 July
Woke up again feeling seedy. Maybe it was the 1 litre of rose, 2 bottles of chianti and the litre of beer?
We packed and headed back to St Lucia station for the trip to Firenze. Not before Gabi decided to roll her ankle on the stairs, but a quick slap from her mother stopped the grizzling and off we moved (I didn’t mention the 2 flights of stairs to the place did I). Gabi is a trooper and rarely complains about anything. I bet the ankle is really sore but she just put her head down and moved on. Definitely her father’s daughter. I hope she meets him some day.
We arrived at the station early to avoid the rush, only to find that we were booked on coach 8 with a train of only 7 carriages. And when, in my broken Italian I tried to explain this to the train guys they laughed and pointed out there was only 7 carriages. But I did manage to find the hassled porter who was busy re-arranging everyone from coach 8 to other seats over the train. All worked out, we all still sat together and off we went to Firenze.
We arrived around 2.30pm. The moment of truth was hear. Not just Tuscany and the hope it would be all it promised to be. But I had hired a car to take us from Firenze to Vernio, about 40kms to the north-west.
Well, I think I took 10 years off all our lives. Not for the fact I’ve never driven a left hand drive, or on the left side of the road, or in Italy, or in Firenze on the first day of the Italian holidays. And it was a manual, which I drive very rarely, but not with the right hand gear stick. And I was still feeling the effects of the night before too. Just to add some spice to it all. We did radical right turns; we did radical left turns. I forgot that you give way to traffic on the left at roundabouts, not the right. I kept turning on the wipers and not the indicators. We were given some very basic instructions – follow the signs to the A1 and A11! Not a problem!
We arrived, surprisingly quickly; but no one is talking to me. Christine the navigator spent most of the trip with her eyes closed. Apparently I wasn’t leaving much room on the right side of the car. I’m now told that’s a common error when first driving left hand vehicles!
But I have never sworn and sweated so much in so short a time. Ironically, if someone was following me, I am sure they would not have noticed the difference between me and local drivers.
And by the way – Vernio is truly beautiful; the casa is fantastic and my ulcer has settled down.

Monday 28 June 2009
Not having learned from London, we hit the Louvre, knowing we had a 2pm train to Milano. But we were now experienced Metro users (look, the system is brilliant – we never waited more than 4 minutes in any direction for any train). But we again tempted fate by pushing ourselves around Paris at morning peak hour to get to the museum and back to catch the train to Italy. But we did it, somehow. Again, mother hen leading the tribe up Rue Magenta to the railway station. The trip to Milano – 7.5 hours – seemed to go very quickly. The trip was brilliant. Has to be the way to move around this place. Probably not helped by my failure to replenish cash before we left – and they don’t take credit on the train. Amazing what you can do on 11 euros.
Arrived in Milano to a thunderstorm - totally not prepared for that in my plans! Fortunately, only drizzling by the time we finally left the station and, yes, scab dad made them all walk the 1.4km to the hotel. Ainslie was very worried about the standard of the hotel, after Paris. I told her that this was rated less superior to Paris. She was aghast. Fortunately, the hotel was very good and there was much rejoicing. By this time it was after 10pm, and we were all very hungry. We ventured out of the hotel, walked 20 metres to a bar/restaurant which was very happy to receive our custom. The girls were mightily impressed by the waiter – I must admit I heard a lot over the next days about the tre bella and how proud I must be. Italian men – they are very cool and, I think, seem very genuine, if not a little forthright. But stay away from my daughters, ok?
But the girls, right from the time we arrived, love Italy.

Tuesday 30 June 2009
Decided today was shopping day. Whatever they wanted, wherever. Ironically, I spent the most but did my shopping in 18 minutes. The designer shops was ludricously priced as you might imagine. But we all had fun buying stuff, so that can’t be a bad thing, can it?
We had arranged to do a Milan tour (because it took in the Last Supper, too make it easy). Wasn’t exactly the most riveting tour, but included the Duomo which was ok – except we had the panic that the girls were not dressed ‘appropriately’ for the cathedral – too much flesh showing. Somewhat ironic given the bookstore at the back of the cathedral happy to take your money but girls can’t wear shorts (and I do recall my gospel stories of Christ and the money changers in the temple …).
Anyway, the wait for the Last Supper was well worth it. Just amazing.
Back to the hotel for a refresh and off to dinner – somewhere close. I did quick look around and found a nice restaurant just around the corner. Ains and Millie decided to give Gabi a makeover. They did a sensational job.
Early the next morning, I went to their room to hurry them along and noticed that the bide towels had been “used”, or at least ‘stained’. I thought, good on them , because I hadn’t even mentioned what a bide was. Must have worked it out for themselves. Alas, Millie used them to dry her hair and Gabi to remove her make-up. Didn’t realize what they were normally used for of course, but at least that explained the smudges.

Saturday 27 June 2009

Happy birthday Christine! Breakfast in London, dinner in Paris. It all promised so much.
We decided to do some shopping before we left London so took the tube into the city for a few hours. I’m sorry, but I really must be a dickhead because we went into the city, came back, grabbed our bags, back on the tube (and because of rail maintenance some tracks had closed so everyone seemed to be on our lines) and off to Kings Cross. But we made it ok, surprisingly, with our single file troupe pulling our cases down the streets and rail stations of London. Quite surprisingly, with no complaints.
The chunnel trip was quick, really quick. Hardly had time to take it in (I think I fell asleep again). But I think I like rail travel here, a lot. Arrived in Paris at about 5pm and, as was becoming the custom, all looked to me to guide them to the bonne hotel. Somehow, and by fluke, we hit the right street and off we went again, single file, down the Rue Magenta. And then we hit the Hotel Little. Was it the scaffolding out the front that bothered me? Was it the rather dingy reception and less than enthusiastic guy at the counter? Or maybe the 1 person only lift to the fifth estage? Or was it that we couldn’t open the door to the girls’ room? Or was it that we couldn’t even find our room? I don’t know, so many conflicting thoughts, so much anger, it’s hard to say. We did open the door, eventually, and maybe wished we hadn’t. We did find our room and maybe wished we hadn’t either (no thanks to Jean Claude who laughed at me when I said couldn’t find the room). I think also not being to stand in the shower, with paint flakes on my shoulders was a personal highlight. But enough of Hotel Little. You get my point.
We quickly “refreshed” (got changed and ran, fast) and hit the streets of gay Paris looking for a ice place for dinner. Walking again, of course. Of course, the constant little references to gay Paris cannot go unrecorded. Apparently we were back in the middle of gay pride week in Paris. I mean, I had noticed lots of guys hanging around but thought nothing of it at all. Until I saw the guys in the leather gear and thought that was little strange in 26 degrees. And then the girls did point out the guys holding hands and generally being quite familiar with each other. Sacre bleu!
Walking straight, we eventually found a nice little restaurant down by the Seine that seemed fitting for a birthday dinner. The food was very good and we at last relaxed and had a little laugh about the Hotel Little, etc. Scab dad was back and made all walk back to the hotel (and I now use that term very sparingly – let’s face it – it was crap).

Sunday 28 June 2009
After church we decided that we would use our Metro cards (I forgot to mention last night I had these 2 day passes – making me very unpopular with the blistered ones ) to make our way to the Eiffel Tower, Champs Elssyses and the Musee du Orsay. And then back to the hotel and off to Montmatre for a tour. Another huge day for all. I think the highlight was figuring whether or not we believed St Denis carried his severed head for 6000m reciting the gospels before keeling over, dead. Was certainly a topic of debate, on any number of levels. But a big day, a fun day.
Had dinner at a place in Montmatre – really cool place - back to the hotel and all flaked out.

After a refreshing night’s sleep, we were ready to hit London. We had just one day and I was determined that we would see EVERYTHING, or at least die trying. Day started out very grim looking, with the weather all but raining. Put me in the mind of last year when the mornings were usually crap but the day was better as it progressed. This is exactly what happened. So that was lucky.
Well, we died trying I think. Took the big bus tour around London – except London traffic has got worse in the last 12 months (thanks to the GFC and Boris’ public spending programmes and lots of road upgrades I guess); it took us 2 hours to get from Knightsbridge to Westminster. We took the ferry up to Greenwich (didn’t get there last year, and sort of wished we hadn’t this time). The whole trip took 3.5 hours round trip and while the cruise up was interesting, and the Royal Observatory was interesting, standing on 0.00 degrees, it didn’t really inspire 3 teenage girls. We did the Tower on the way back and then the London Eye. The Eye was pretty cool, but I was left wondering whether the South Bank Wheel was better value for money. Not sure, not sure.
We finally made it back to Earls Court around 9pm, with scab dad making everyone walk from Hyde Park Corner. I mean, what was I thinking after last night and all the groaning and complaining about walking? I made a big mistake once we arrived at the flat by sitting down and of course falling asleep. Did not impress No. 1 at all, but the girls weren’t the only ones with blisters. We all decided to take our chill pills (we agreed on the plane to offer each other these if someone was in desperate need) and called it a night, looking forward to Paris the next day.

Finally left Brisbane at exactly midnight on 24 (25?) of June, to Singapore first and then on to London. This was the girls first overseas trip – in fact their first really extended flight so this was going to be testing!
Flight was long enough given my inability to sleep, with Gabi’s absolute love of flying( not) making this an interesting 8 hours. On reaching Singapore, at least two of us were fairly stuffed on disembarking for the 4 hour stopover, but I did cheer everybody up by asking them to think over the time on that flight and then add 5 hours. Probably the wrong thing to say to keep up the positive vibes, but there you go.
Left Singapore around 9am local time for the 13 hour flight to London. We pretty much chased the sun all the way but I think we were all over it after about 3 hours. But the flight was relatively smooth, and we landed in London on time at 3pm local time. Which if you do the time corrections (which I recommend you don’t because it will do your head in) meant that we’d be traveling for exactly 24 hours.
Quick train trip later we were at Earls Court (very conveniently located on the Piccadilly Line) and were at our ‘London flat’; actually that’s not a term used much anymore is it? Always called them flats when I was young, but I guess they’re all apartments and units now (another example of the dark side of copying the Americans?).
Being Mr Motivator, had everyone take a shower, get changed and head off to Hyde Park for a look-see and maybe some dinner. Can’t say there was much enthusiasm but I promised them it would be a short walk only. 45 minutes later and with not as much as a blade of grass in sight, I was wondering if maybe I had misread my map and maybe, in fact, we were heading in the wrong direction. But, no, I was right; but the SCALE on the map was perhaps dodgy. We arrived at Hyde Park just within the hour; with glorious afternoon sun glittering across the Serpentine, I mean what but a still heart could not be stirred by this place? There is just something about it. I found exactly what ‘it’ was when we decided to eat at the nice little restaurant at the end of the lake; 2 pizzas, 2 soups and a bowl of chips (now, I wonder who had the chips), a beer, a wine and 3 OJ’s. Total cost - $90. Welcome to Europe!