Karen Karbo's Challenge - Live Like Julia

Rule Number 4: Obey your whims because you never know what you might find at the end of an impulse.

Some time ago, Karen Karbo invited bloggers to take up the challenge to Live Like Julia.

She had written a book, Julia Child Rules. Lessons on Savoring Life.  The challenge was to pick a rule and live it.

Rule Number 4 stood out for me - obey your whims.  Mostly because it's a thing that I do.  And just after she had put her idea out there in the world, a whim was offered up  ... a whimsical invitation, or two really.

I'm a New Zealander who lives in Belgium and I left home 10 years ago. I had two superb years living in Istanbul before meeting and marrying a Belgian bloke and moving to Antwerp. 

In August, 2013, I was over in Italy running a photography workshop for women.  My cousin joined me and returned to Belgium with me.  After just a few days, that cousin called Julie invited me to go with her on one of those road trips ... the kind that are born out of a few red wines perhaps.

So, how about, she proposed ... flying to Milan, stopping in Verona, heading into Croatia, driving on into Hungary for 2 nights in Budapest?  Then Vienna 'because of The Sound of Music', she said.  Back into Trieste in Italy, then into Venice (an impulsive whimsical stop as it turned out) before continuing on to Lake Como.

I said, Okay, as you do.

And we did.  8 days of whirlwind roadtripping.  I loved Budapest best of all probably but was impressed by Croatia as well.  I have loved Italy for such a long time that it doesn't need stated really.

Budapest won the best food award.  There was this dish called Sztrapacska (which may not actually be Hungarian but who cares.  I tasted it there for the first time and it was divine).  Or perhaps it was first equal with a stunning mushroom pasta I devoured in Trieste.  It still haunts me.  Al Barattolo is the restaurant if you find yourself there.

But wait ... there's more, as so many of those old tv advertisements used to promise.

My Belgian friend, Ruth, had emailed me weeks before the roadtrip was dreamt up ... describing a man called Jim Haynes. Based in Paris, he held weekly dinners in Paris.  Did I want to go with her?

Who could resist these words taken direct from his website: Every week for the past 30 years, I've hosted a Sunday dinner in my home in Paris. People, including total strangers, call or e-mail to book a spot. I hold the salon in my atelier, which used to be a sculpture studio. The first 50 or 60 people who call may come, and twice that many when the weather is nice and we can overflow into the garden.
Every Sunday a different friend prepares a feast. Last week it was a philosophy student from Lisbon, and next week a dear friend from London will cook.
People from all corners of the world come to break bread together, to meet, to talk, connect and often become friends. All ages, nationalities, races, professions gather here, and since there is no organized seating, the opportunity for mingling couldn't be better. I love the randomness.
I believe in introducing people to people.
I have a good memory, so each week I make a point to remember everyone's name on the guest list and where they're from and what they do, so I can introduce them to each other, effortlessly. If I had my way, I would introduce everyone in the whole world to each other.

Did I feel like a short jaunt to Paris, she wrote. 3 hours by car, we would just stay the night?

It was a whim, an adventure.  How could I say no?

Of course I didn't.  Ruth and I set off at 8am on Sunday, 13 October, 2013.  We crossed the border into France and out came the sun ... on a day when torrential rain ruled back in Antwerp.

We arrived, we wandered Parisian streets.  We were lost, we were found.  We stopped to drink wine.  And we called in at one of my holy of holies ... Shakespeare and Company, a bookshop ... another Parisian legend, one you must also visit if you pass through.

And then to the dinner that evening.  Jim's Dinner. We were welcomed, as were so many others, and we began with a bowl of Borscht, and followed on with some kind of divine meatloaf and vegetables.  Pure comfort food on that cool Autumn night there in Paris. 

Best of all, I met Jim ... and so many beautiful souls from all over the world.  They came from San Francisco and Scotland, NYC and London, from Australia and Ireland ... from Germany, Italy, and France too.  And we ate, and we opened our souls some, there in that space that Jim Haynes has created.

Dessert was some kind of fruit-filled chocolate cake.  There was wine and water and all kinds of other drinks too.  But mostly, in spite of ... or perhaps due to the food there on offer, people talked.  And talked. And laughed.  And circulated.

I met the truly lovely Rachel, from 60 Postcards.com. and her friend, Caroline.  I met women running a workshop that brought joy back into the lives of women burned out by life.  I met a lawyer who had recently moved from Manhatten to London, and an Irish man who claimed he fled Ireland in fear of his life.  But I could tell, he had kissed that Blarney Stone on his way out.  He was delightful.  There was an Australian who said he would never go back, a German woman who had moved to the States many years earlier, and a lovely couple from San Francisco. 

There was the Italian actress/yoga teacher, the one who was following her dreams and had just moved to Paris, and the beautiful group of Scottish women.  The mother, her two daughters, spending time in the city before separating again, one bound for Canada, the rest going home.

The spirit, the soul of the gathering was an outpouring, it seemed, of being yourself in a place where it was permitted ... demanded even.  It was magical 3 hours that both invigorated and drained me.  It was an energy surge like nothing I had ever experienced.

I didn't take as many photographs as I had hoped to take but I had a most marvelous time talking with those people there at Jim's Place. 

A glimpse, just a glimpse below ... Lake Bled, in Slovenia.

Snapshot

It's been on odd going away on adventures not of my own making ... to places I hadn't dreamed of but it's been grand.  Absolutely excellent, in fact.

I've spent most of these last two months traveling, oftentimes feeling like Alison in Wonderland.  So ... if I haven't been exploring beautiful new locations and meeting most excellent people, I've been unpacking and preparing for the next big adventure.

Nicaragua was mentioned today but I have heard stories of wildlife I don't care to meet there and so now it is that I must prepare to face a Belgian winter ... it's here.  Oh how Belgium embraces that rotten season, wringing every last drop of greyness and misery out and dumping it over us here in the flatlands.  Our previous winter lasted into July, more or less, if I'm telling the story. 

I feel gloomy today, as darkness began descending much earlier than I recall it descending way back in August when my travels began.

Belgians have already told me of yesterday, that sunny day I spent in Paris ... was pure misery over here in Antwerp.  I feel like I should stockpile some vitamin D, and buy up all new material that slightly superb Australian, Tim Minchin, produces during this new season that I do not, in any way, enjoy.

Paris in Autumn

Yesterday, Ruth and I left the Belgian rain and grey skies behind as we crossed the border and entered France.  Paris is about 3 hours, by car, from Antwerp.

We arrived around lunchtime and spent our afternoon wandering ... visiting my beloved Shakespeare and Company Bookshop, wandering on to the Panthéon, over in the Latin Quarter.

We meandered really, taking photographs of this thing and that but mostly, we simply enjoyed our 24 hours in Paris.

We zipped back across the border today and voila, in under the grey clouds and rain.  So here's a glimpse of how Paris was ... 13 October, 2013.

Jim Haynes,and His Fabulous Sunday Dinners In Paris

Every week for the past 30 years, I've hosted a Sunday dinner in my home in Paris. People, including total strangers, call or e-mail to book a spot. I hold the salon in my atelier, which used to be a sculpture studio. The first 50 or 60 people who call may come, and twice that many when the weather is nice and we can overflow into the garden.
Every Sunday a different friend prepares a feast. Last week it was a philosophy student from Lisbon, and next week a dear friend from London will cook.

Jim Haynes, Paris Sunday Dinners.

I'm not sure I can even begin to give you a sense of how incredible tonight was ...

I met a magical man who invites complete strangers into his home, disarms them somehow, like a wizard who works his magic for good ... who invites total strangers to leave their egos, their barriers, their 'stuff' at the door, and simply get on with meeting whoever is there at that Sunday dinner.

If I had to sum it up, tonight, before the photographs have even been viewed ... I would write of a talk-fest that simply made my heart sing.  So ... once my camera card reader and I are reunited, there are stories to tell and photographs to post.

The photograph below ... unrelated and yet, it is all about a little bit of magic that happened in Berlin one day and therefore, it seems like an appropriate placeholder.

More to follow on the morrow.

 

Rebecca Solnit, The Art of Not Knowing Where You Are

A labyrinth is an ancient device that compresses a journey into a small space, winds up a path like thread on a spool. It contains beginning, confusion, perseverance, arrival, and return. There at last the metaphysical journey of your life and your actual movements are one and the same. You may wander, may learn that in order to get to your destination you must turn away from it, become lost, spin about, and then only after the way has become overwhelming and absorbing, arrive, having gone the great journey without having gone far on the ground.

In this it is the opposite of a maze, which has not one convoluted way but many ways and often no center, so that wandering has no cease or at least no definitive conclusion. A maze is a conversation; a labyrinth is an incantation or perhaps a prayer. In a labyrinth you’re lost in that you don’t know the twists and turns, but if you follow them you get there; and then you reverse your course.

The end of the journey through the labyrinth is not at the center, as is commonly supposed, but back at the threshold again: the beginning is also the real end. That is the home to which you return from the pilgrimage, the adventure. The unpraised edges and margins matter too, because it’s not ultimately a journey of immersion but emergence. 

Rebecca Solnit, extracted from The Art of Not Knowing Where You Are

I am loving this woman's writing.  Reading her is something like devouring a beautiful feast.  This one essay alone is truly exquisite.

She goes on and talks of empathy: The root word is path, from the Greek word for passion or suffering, from which we also derive pathos and pathology and sympathy. It’s a coincidence that empathy is built from a homonym for the Old English path, as in a trail. Or a dark labyrinth named Path. Empathy is a journey you travel, if you pay attention, if you care, if you desire to do so. Up close you witness suffering directly, though even then you may need words to know that this person has terrible pains in her joints or that one recently lost his home. Suffering far away reaches you through art, through images, recordings, and narratives; the information travels toward you and you meet it halfway, if you meet it.

Few if any of us will travel like arctic terns in endless light, but in the dark we find ourselves and each other, if we reach out, if we keep going, if we listen, if we go deeper.

Awake ...1.29 am in Italy

I did the crime ... an Italian espresso at 5pm in Venice.   And although it was in celebration of finding our way out of the maze that is Venice, it seems I must do the time.  It's 1.29am and I'm still awake.  Wide awake!

Today has been all about leaving Trieste, then impulsively stopping for an hour or two of wandering through Venice, and driving on afterwards, another million miles towards Milan then Lake Como.

An impulsive couple of hours in Venice that became 4 hours when we were lost for a while on our way out of that ancient city. 

And Venice ...!!!  I'm not even sure how to write up the experience.  Not yet.  But tonight, once we found our way to Bellano, Italy, there was this dinner consisting of this divine smokey cheese, provided by our lovely Air B&B hostess, and a bottle of Italian red wine we had been carrying since Budapest.

Julie made herself pasta but it felt too late for me to be eating something so serious and anyway, I was still recovering from The Most Delicious pasta dinner I had ever tasted ... the previous evening, back in Trieste.  Something to do with mushrooms, a cream sauce, and pasta at Al Barattolo.

If you find yourself in Trieste, I can only tell you that you must eat at Al Barattolo because the food is divine. The house red wine is also delicious but that's a whole other story.

That said, tonight's pasta did inspire Julie to write up a blogpost about our roadtrip so far.  But our journey is almost done and tomorrow we're off to the airport.  I'm heading back to Antwerp while she's continuing on her long journey home, with Athens as her next destination.  

I will miss that cousin of mine after almost 2 months of living and traveling together.  We do have the most excellent adventures though.  Always.  Last time we wandered all over England, wondering about speed limits and road rules as we went, occasionally phoning home to seek wise counsel on these serious matters.

We drank wine with mercenaries on that journey.  I actually went through a stage where I met 3 different groups of them socially ... by chance and yes, I found it bizarre.  We also managed to accidentally walked out of a cafe without paying, realised, then found a branch of the same chain in another town over there, confessed, felt the love ... well actually, their surprise that we were so honest.  I think they might have been stunned but anyway, they'd written it off, much to our relief.  And so much more.  It's never sedate when we get together.

Anyway ... tonight finds us in a lovely Air B&B in Bellano in Italy.  It seems to be located on one of the arms of Lake Como, not Como itself though.  Everything we've viewed online tells us it's lovely however ...spending time lost in Venice complicated our arrival here and made us some hours late, in fact, after darkness had fallen.

The light was fading fast when we began driving the 50 minutes alongside Lake Como to Bellano.  Darkness AND there were masses of tunnels, some as much as 5kms long.  And while The Homer Tunnel experience in New Zealand last year, seems to have cured me of my previously intense dislike of tunnels, I wasn't the happiest creature when I realised we had driven an extra 16kms beyond our destination exit road, due to our troublesome GPS losing its satellite connection while in those very same very long tunnels.

But arriving here, meeting Laura - our lovely B&B hostess, settling in, drinking the last bottle of red wine Julie and I will share in a while ... somehow everything took on a rosy restropective glow and voila, we were happy again.

We are fortunate, it doesn't take much to right our sometimes wonky worlds.  Well ... I could have done without the whole 'sleepless in Bellano' thing but you wouldn't have this post and nor would you have this small glimpse of a scene I spotted in Venice.

Budapest ...!

I loved Budapest!

Julie had found us an Air B&B apartment located directly behind the opera house and just off Andrássy Avenue.   There's a photograph of the exquisite interior courtyard at the end of this post.  We were two floors up, 6 flights of stairs but honestly ... worth it.

Things I loved about Budapest: the ruin pubs, most especially Szimpla.  Jennifer took us to both Szimpla and Instant ruin pubs and honestly, loved them.

Coffee.  Again we were wandering in a city with excellent coffee.  Favourite cafe was The Párizsi Nagyáruház.  As with so many of the delightful finds made in Budapest, Jennifer was responsible as we went there after I did a small portrait session with her.  Then I took Julie back while we discussed whether she should replace her dead Apple laptop with an iPad.  She did.  (A couple of days later and I can report that she is supremely happy with her iPad.)

Komédiás Kávéház was a delightful find - again, introduced to us by Jennifer.  Fodor's pretty much have it covered when they write, Also called Café le Comédien, this ravishingly elegant little café in the heart of the main theater district, next door to the Thália Theater and near the Opera House, has live piano music daily from 7 PM and has an impressive cherry-wood-like staircase leading up to its small second-floor room.

On the second night, Jennifer found yet another treasure and there I ate a Hungarian dish called Sztrapacska, a dish that will go on my top 5 dinners in the world so far.   She has superb taste in wines too and so it was that we had another delightful Hungarian red wine with our food.  It may be that she will cross-post a Hungarian wine post for me here.  We really enjoyed all that we tasted.

And the food has all been very affordable. 

Budapest impressed me for so many reasons. Andrássy Avenue became familar very quickly, the Opera House too.  We ended up using a hop on/hop off bus, attempting to cover as much of the city as possible during our two nights there.  We crossed the Danube on the bus and it took us up into the hills of Pest ... or was it Buda?  Buda I think.

Up there we met Iain, a fellow kiwi who wandered over and asked us if we were kiwis.  It was lovely to meet someone from home.  The accent still gives me the most delightful jolt when I hear it unexpectedly.  We chatted a while, up there on the hill and then later, said hi when we met up with him and his Spanish traveling companions in the ruin pub.

And once all this traveling is done, I hope to hunt down books on the history of the city, and the characters who helped create it, most particularly Matthias Corvinus, 1443-1490.  He seems like he might have been a fascinating man.  As a Renaissance ruler, he established education institutions, patronized art and science, and introduced a new legal system in the Kingdom of Hungary. In the era of his kingship, Matthias strongly endeavored to follow the model and ideas of the philosopher-king as described in Plato’s Republic.

There were sad stories too but they're for another post perhaps.

I would like to return and explore some more of this country called Hungary. I was intrigued, fascinated and impressed by the people, the cuisine, the city of Budapest.

Road-Tripping ...Things I'm Learning

The best random car radio I've heard anywhere in the world so far was between Rijeka, Croatia and Budapest, Hungary.  I guess it's music I know so perhaps there was some nostalgia from the 70s and 80s involved but honestly, excellent music for that 4+ hour journey.

If you have a rental car that doesn't charge your GPS as you travel, chances are you might have some challenging experiences when attempting to reach your destination. 

First hint of trouble was in Verona.  Many people were approached for directions to our final destination in the heart of the ancient city.  Rijeka, and voila, although we tried to leave the GPS alone and simply rely on it for the complicated city-leaving and arrival parts ... the GPS battery started to die about one kilometre from our destination.

About then we became suspicious of the coincidence of the destination flag appearing and the battery warning appearing.  Maybe it had some kind of bug in the machine. 

Budapest ... about a kilometre from our destination, having really rested the GPS, up came the battery warning along with the destination flag. We were caught in a long traffic jam on the other side of the river.  Julie laughed.  I was not amused.

We crossed over into Austria yesterday and barely used the GPS.  No flag appeared as we neared our Vienna destination ... the 'bug' in the GPS suspicion is over.  The rental car has a faulty charger.  We shall proceed with caution, relying mostly on the big highway signs.  It's Trieste today and a longer journey that will take us through Slovenia.

But back to other things learned ... be clear on destinations programmed into the GPS. We had hoped to call in for lunch in Zagreb but managed to miscommunicate on programming that idea in.  We passed by and realised, after a conversation, that we love the journey as much as the destinations so we continued on.  4+ hours of road-tripping was a really excellent Plan B, although we did detour to a secondary road and visit a lake before leaving Hungary.

Budapest, brilliant city.  Loved it but more to follow in another post. 

Julie's handbag.  The one that sits behind us on the floor of the backseat.  Yes Julie, it is a marvellous bag that holds so much but ... let's be sure that I pull out your sunglasses, your normal glasses, your lip balm, your iPod music player (although that's more useful if charged), and every other thing I have had to grapple with on the road trip while you have driven us across Europe.

But okay, yes, perhaps it would have lacked a certain sense of achievement had we been that organised.

Air B&B, a great way to travel. We've stayed in local homes and apartments, met excellent people that I have to write more about when I have all the information and life isn't about the journey.  I'm writing this from a student flat in Vienna, where one of our hosts is a lovely Croatian guy studying architecture.  He was just in Rijeka last week.  They are a delightful couple and we're glad that we did it.  Julie organised it all and she has made me a convert because I do love meeting people where ever I go.   

It's another big old apartment complex with at least two inner courtyards.  The Budapest apartment was my favourite so far ... directly behind the opera house and truly exquisite, inner courtyard, beautiful ironwork on the inside and that delicious sense that you are experiencing something of an everyday life in each place.

Learned while living in Istanbul ... always look for cafes and restaurants that are full of locals. Do not be tempted to do anything else.  If you know someone, all the better, ask them where to eat.  We have eaten divinely while traveling.   It's been less about expensive and upmarket and so very much about good local food.  Hungary has been my absolute favourite so far. 

If in doubt about where to eat, stop someone who looks like they might eat in places you would like to eat in.  Asking politely worked every time.

Wines ... some countries you can barely go wrong, other countries have a wine culture to be explored with caution.  Perhaps that's as specific as I'll get but I do love countries where I can find my beloved Italian red wines. We enjoyed this Croatian red wine.   And were really impressed by Hungarian red wine ... absolutely lovely.  Thanks to Jennifer.

Men from Manchester on stag weekends in Budapest ... very friendly, quite naughty but with a lovely humour that meant we always wandered away on laughing.  We met 3 groups on our second night there.  Yes, they made us laugh.

Croatians in Rijeka speak beautiful English.  We were told by the lovely wine guy that they start studying it in fourth grade.  Hungarians in Budapest also speak beautiful English. 

Maybe that's enough for this post.  I wanted to finish up with a photograph of the most divine fish and chips I've had any place so far ...located on Andrássy Avenue, we would absolutely recommend The Bigfish restaurant because their cod and chips were sublime.

This Morning in Rijeka

One of things I love best when I travel is developing a sense of ease and familiarity in each new place and so, when Julie woke with a headcold this morning and I woke with a desire for a good espresso, we agreed I should coffee and she should drink her tea and wake slowly.

It's a crispy autumn morning here in Rijeka, tons of sunshine ... I needed my jacket and scarf.  We're right on the sea here, so the air is clear.

We have a favourite cafe here in the city.  Just below us, on the Korso, and we love it for all kinds of reasons. The espresso is superb, the food is good too, and the staff are friendly and speak impeccable English.  I would recommend the Filodrammatica Bookshop Caffe here in Rijeka without resevation.

Sitting there in the sun watching the world go by got rid of the last of yesterday's headache.  And a good night's sleep did the rest.  We're off to Budapest today, with me still feeling a little like Alice, that girl who fell down a rabbit hole and into Wonderland.

But first ... we must find out how to rescue the car from the carpark we left it in.  There's the small matter of a lost carparking ticket.  Here's to it ending well.

A Quiet Afternoon in Croatia

The sun is shining here in the city of Rijeka, and although  we went wandering this morning ... finding a market, a park, and a beautiful coffee-making cafe, I have returned to the apartment to write a long-promised post for another website I admire.

And I'm nursing a headache.   One of those ones that come from an old neck injury that doesn't respond well to this thing and that thing ... maybe one or many of those things I have done these last few days. I'm hoping to 'rest' my way out of it here in the quiet of the apartment.

Meanwhile Julie's off to climb 500 steps to the top of a hill that we were told we must visit. She has her camera. I shall live vicariously through her images.  And the sun is pouring down on me as I sit here, next to the window, about to begin working.  Adele is singing.

Tot straks.

Rijeka, Croatia

Ever found yourself in a country you didn't expect to visit ...?

I did that today and it has knocked the ground out from under me.  Julie drove us from Verona to Rijeka - some 335kms - via Slovenia, where a very serious border guard checked our passports before letting us through.

Admittedly, we did drive away giggling, as Julie had been wearing a skimpy singlet due to the heat.  There she was, leaping out of the car to dig her passport out of the car boot. 

I didn't expect that. Initially we were two rather startled kiwis, there at that border crossing.

We arrived in Rijeka, met our lovely Air B&B hostess and enjoyed chatting with her as she showed us around this pretty little apartment in downtown Rijeka.  Air B&B is a great way to travel - thank you to Julie for convincing me on that one.

This beautiful apartment is 94 euro for two nights, is completely self-sufficient.  We would recommend you stay here, without hesitation.  I'll link to it after taking some photographs ... don't worry.

I speak no Croatian but we've been lucky.  The Croatians here have beautiful English and have been very easy to approach.  I am so grateful. 

For the first time in a long time, I knew no one here and that has been odd too. But I learned long ago, look around for someone who might share your taste and ask them ... where would be a nice place to eat dinner, for example.

The young couple I asked sent us to Ristorante Spagho where the lovely waiter recommended a Pinot Crni by Krauthaker.  We have a fish restaurant, recommended by our hostess, planned for tomorrow night.  We just made the mistake of imagining dinner would be easy tonight.

Ristorante Spagho provided us with a delicious dinner for two, costing about 35euro in total and accompanied by a nice glass of red wine, or two.  Let's not talk of the mistake I made in ordering a dish containing peppers. 

They don't use euros here ... I am so ignorant. 50 euro= 380.724 Croatian Kuna.

But no photographs today.  It was all about traveling, it was about having the brand new GPS die ... less than 1km from our destination ... Again!!!  We nursed it today but that didn't seem to help.  It almost seems like a bug in the programme.  As in, when you get close to your destination, as soon as that destination flag appears with just a few streets to travel, the battery dies in this particular GPS.

Is it the rental car and a faulty cigarettte lighter charge?  Is it the GPS?  We hope to find out before Budapest ...

We're exhausted.  Photographs to follow in the days ahead.

Verona, Italy

It's been a freefall into life and people and adventures lately ...

A.  Free. Fall.

Sometimes I've found myself wondering if I might hit the wall, other times it has been about 'when' I would hit that wall.

And people.  It has been a festival of folk I adore, or folk I have come to adore. And family.  And everyone else too.

But tonight ... tonight finds me, in Verona, Italy, listening to Zucchero, Pavarotti, and Bocelli singing Miserere.  Introducing Julie to the music of Zucchero actually... because we need him in the car as we roadtrip tomorrow and because she confessed that, like me, she loves Pavarotti.

We ate dinner at Locandina Cappello tonight and matched a delicious pasta with a delightful red wine ... a Valpollicella Classico Superiore Ognisanti Bertani DOC.  I wouldn't mind finding some more of that particular red wine. 

You see we had wandered through the old city centre, in search of the perfect place to have our 'first night in Italy' dinner, and realised that we are really looking forward to wandering in tomorrow morning's first light.  It seems like a pretty city ... and while Genova has my heart and soul, it seems my head could be slightly turned by Verona.

Although that turn of head might be because of the kindness of strangers here.  You see, just before we arrived at our 'tricky to find anyway' destination, and after Julie had driven 201kms, our NEW GPS died.  For some reason it wasn't receiving a charge from the car's cigarette lighter ...despite me pressing it in there when we got the low battery warning.

So there we were, in the ancient part of the city ...without directions.

I saw a man walking along the street, and stopped him to ask for directions.  He turned on his phone, pulled up his GPS, frowned, sighed a little, and gave us a couple of options on locating this difficult to find street.  He apologised for the complications we would encounter.

We set off and ended up taking the most difficult option while managing to follow his spoken directions then we saw two young men walking along the street and we stopped so I could ask them if they could help a little. They turned on their phones, turned on their GPS function ... our street didn't come up  and they admitted that while they were studying in Verona, they weren't from Verona.

We 3 stopped a woman walking by ... as you do, gently and politely, and she had no English but the young men spoke with her.  I saw some head-shaking and heard muttering.  I asked if it was complicated and yes, I was told.  Very.  She apologised and left.

We drove on.  I saw a guy walking along the street and stopped him to ask.  We had parked the car by now. He was a local and said he was in no hurry to go home and that he would walk us there.  And he did.

But, of course, we had no street number and so it was that another kind stranger, seeing us looking confused and staring at our papers while talking to our rescuer, came out and asked if he might help.  But he wasn't sure either ... and then another neighbour came over, and she offered her advice, and then another neighbour.

And suddenly, just as we were wandering off to the viccolo with the same name, The Guy arrived and we were rescued. He took up up upstairs to this cute little student flat/summer Air B&B.  And here we are, after a delicious dinner in this ancient city ... the location of a story I studied so long ago, back home in New Zealand, never imagining that one day I might wander by Juliet's balcony while searching out a place for dinner, one September evening in 2013.

Autumn ...

hello, autumn...  hello, smell of smoke in the air.  hello, hot cups of ginger tea with a cookie on the side, hello chilly evenings, hello colors spreading from mountaintops down, down down into the valleys here below.

Nina Bagley, extract from her blog Ornamental

If I had to describe the place I would most like to live then a location like Nina's would be high up on the list. Her blog is the place where I go when the need to wander off and be quiet is upon me and I can't physically go anyplace.

In fact there's a novel I've been writing since those days when I was an airforce officer's wife.  It's a story that has retained the same main character but one that has reshaped itself as I have moved countries and lives.  She always has a dog, lives someplace beautiful but slightly isolated, and her life has been simplified. 

She was a war photographer, so I researched post-traumatic stress and Iraq and the Green Zone and so many other places where people like her go, filled with the conviction that if people just knew the truth of those places and situations, they would rein in the monsters who create wars. 

My bookshelves have more than a few war journalists and photographer biographies sitting there, next to the climbers stories.  Another people who fascinate me.

But there's still no dog in my life.  Everyone feels compelled to remind me of the responsibility when I bring up my desire to have a dog again.  They tell me ... the woman who has had dogs since she was 9 years old, that it's a big decision.

I don't roll my eyes ... well, not visibly but it does get boring.  I rode horses, had cats, my daughter had a pony.  There are things I just know by now.

Another birthday soon.  Another year older and, oddly enough, I'm enjoying these years.  I'm becoming less concerned about what people think of me, how I 'should' look, and I'm turning down the self-censorship dial on those things I would like to say directly. 

I learned the fine art of careful and considerate behaviour as a child, with a side-helping of all-consuming guilt if I slipped up and was honest or direct. It's almost fun unlearning these things.  Fun and frustrating, and challenging too, but as  long as I'm gentle ...

Autumn is here.  It was crisp out there this morning.  The pollution levels have been high recently.  Our city is split by a ring road that has some of the heaviest traffic loading in Europe.  We're a true crossroads and it's a nightmare living so close to a section of it.  And then there's the industrial pollution.

It takes about 3 days for my system to begin to clear when I flit off to Genova, that spot by the sea that is close to some beautiful hills and mountains. 

New Zealand ... out there the air was simply stunning. I would all but dance, delighting in the variety of scents the air carried as we journeyed there.

Wild thyme in Central Otago, then the seemingly limitless beech forests and lakes that give Fiordland that unforgettable smell.  The wild west coast of the South Island, with the Tasman Sea crashing on one side while, on the other, the Southern Alps roar up into the sky.  The scent of the sea and the glaciers, soaking wet glacial moraine and forests.

Mmmm, I'm not really a city girl ... must work that one out one day soon.

But today is all about packing and preparing for another journey.  My cousin continues her journey back to New Zealand on October 8.  We will say our farewells in Milan, after almost two months together.  It's been good having someone around who shares a history, whose mother was my mother's much-loved older sister.

Sometimes, over these weeks, I've looked into Mum's eyes - Julie's are almost exactly the same.  Mum died way back in 1999 and I've missed her often over the years.   Anyway, it has been a time of 'remember when ...' and of familiarity, of picking over old wounds, and creating new stories to tell next time we meet. 

We're off on a roadtrip to a part of Europe I haven't thought of exploring before.  Although, admittedly, I do find it hard to go past Genova ...

But anyway, meet Julie.  She was the model of choice one day out there in Piedmont on the photography workshop.  Sandy and I photographed her, delighting in the colourful backdrop Diana provided with her delicious use of colour.

Julie has eyes just like my mother's.

In These Days ...

I've been wanting to swing by here and write of these crazy-beautiful days filled with old and new friends.  There was a house full of a guests, a party, a pre-opening visit to Antwerp's new Red Star Line Museum, and all kinds of other things too.

It all began on the weekend before last really.  There was a family photo-shoot in the park, with a few of the results in the posts that follow this one.   Dimitris and Donal called over too ... gifting us an exquisite Greek white wine and the very finest Greek λουκούμι or loukoumi.  We have all been enjoying dipping into that box on a daily basis.

Friday was the day it was all happened.  Julie and Sara jetted in from Lisbon in Portugal, while Shannon and Erik rode over from Holland on 'the bike'.  Old friends, family, and new friends ... our house was full and overflowing with laughter, wine and much conversation.

Saturday was all about last minute prep for a small party but after a visit to my favourite Spanish wine shop, we ended up having a vertical tasting of what might my most loved red wine so far - a Valduero Crianza from Ribera Del Duero.  Divine it was and Sara gifted us all a 2004, 2005 and 2009, and photographed the tasting too.

The party was fun.  I was disorganised and it was all about 'last minute' but never mind.  There were more than 15 of us in the end and, as always, conversation and laughter ruled the hours we were all together.

Sunday and Gert and I were out the door, having accepted our pre-opening invitation to wander through the Red Star Line Museum.  I think that anyone coming to Antwerp should take the time to visit this superb museum.  I moved between tears caught in the back of my throat somwhere and a strange anger.  It is a superb museum, one that captures the stories of those Red Star Line European immigrants so beautifully.  The anger was born out of the knowledge that politicians, the world around, spend so much time trying to stop people moving and make 'their citizens' fearful of this very human action.

Freedom of movement ... immigration, whatever, is a necessary part of being human.  People have moved since the beginning of time.  The story of it all unfolds so convincingly there in that impressive museum.

Ludo Van Campenhout is the Belgian politician who fought hard for this museum, working constantly towards it over the years, and he deserves so much praise now that all he imagined, and more, has come to pass.

But then Sara returned to Paris, and Shannon and Erik rode off at the end of the day.  Julie stayed though and we have all kinds of adventures planned for the days and weeks ahead.  It's so good to have family here for a while.  All of us kiwis here in the house are enjoying her presence.

And I fly again soon ... as Julie's traveling companion.  Back to Milan but, for first time ever, I won't be stopping in Genova.  We're heading for Verona, Trieste, Senj, Lake Bled, Budapest and Vienna. 

So yes ... let's see what stories unfold during those days on the road.

I Am Here, Really.

I realise it has been a while since I've posted.

I've been so empty of words.

My cousin is staying.  I adore my cousin, she's family, and I've been trying to make the most of her being here before she heads off to the Southern Hemisphere.

But before she leaves ... there will be Verona, Trieste, Lake Blad, maybe Senj, Budapest, and Vienna if there's time.  Julie wanted to go wandering and it seemed like a very good idea.

There's a party coming up at our place, with 3 favourite friends staying over at the weekend.  And there's an attendance at a Gregorian Chant performance in a couple of days.  And the new Red Star Line Museum invited me in for a sneak preview this weekend.

I've been busy with ticking off my 'to-do' list.  Catching up on long overdue emails.  And I need to talk beer with these guys.  To write a blog post for the Loving Genova people ... because I do love Genova, just in case you had missed that fact about me.

I have sent previous photography workshop photographs to the lovely baker in Genova, and an English menu off to my favourite pizzeria in the world.  Photographs to the lovely Giulia, the results of asking if I might photograph her and her puppy while doing the aperitivo thing in Acqui Terme.

In-between times, I had the most incredible luck.  I found a novel set in one of the places I lived in New Zealand.  I've been reading that on the trams, in my bed, anyplace there's is space for a book.  I wrote home to Manapouri and Te Anau, asking old friends if the book was as good as it seemed, only to discover that people I knew, or their family, were used as character inspiration for the writer.

I loved the book.  I loved being home in New Zealand for the duration of the read.

Gert returns from Genova tomorrow.  He's had a week out of the madness and chaos of here,.  Actually he has been tormenting me a little, talking of temperatures I could barely imagine back here in Belgium, where autumn has arrived and I'm wearing boots and my polar fleece ... that is after weeks of glorious Italian sunshine and warmth.

I'm deep-cleaning the house, making sure all is ready for everyone and the weekend ahead.  Stories may follow ...

I wonder if I sensed something about the road ahead of me after the workshop.  I seem wary.  This photograph, taken by Sandy during the workshop in Acqui Terme ... is me, responding with that discomfort that comes when I realise I am the 'subject' rather than the photographer.

An 'ohmygoodness' moment I think.

Leaving Genova ... again

The floors have been mopped, almost all of the laundry is done. The rubbish has been sorted and dumped in the appropriate bins.  Supplies resupplied, wine not quite finished, and most of my goodbyes have been said.

I have loved being here in this Ligurian city again.  Six busy days filled with people and interviews, of photography and so much fun.

Blue skies were there waiting outside my window every morning, temperatures were warm ... 29 celsius

may have been the norm, although I wasn't paying attention in a deep way.

Genova makes me smile, my eyes open wider and sure, I am close to exhausted but these last few weeks have been ...intense.  The wedding in France, the workshop in Piedmont, the interview series here in Genova.  A huge cold that threatened to bring me to my knees was probably the worst of it.

Anyway, this is how I was looking on Monday. Still bemused by the fact that yes, if you teach a photography workshop then being photographed becomes the new normal.  Thank you to Sandy Millar, the photographer and woman who talked me through the agony that is being photographed.

There are so many reasons ...

There are so many reasons that Italy has slipped into my heart but one of the biggest is surely the people I have met here over the years.

The people of Piedmont have simply added to that particular experience of Italy.  There was the intensity, the laughter, and the pure joy of spending those hours working with Carla in her restaurant kitchen on Monday ... then the kindness and patience of the people in Acqui Terme's Market with those foreign photographers yesterday.  Last night it was all about the generosity of the people who led us through an exquisite multi-course dinner. 

There is a saturation that occurs, for me, here.  A saturation that is not just of a physical nature but there is a very real sensation of my soul being filled ... or whatever 'organ' it is that stores joy.  It fills and overflows and simply sparkles so many times in day when I'm here.

Sure there is the beautiful landscape, the visible histories, the wine, the food, and the language but there are also the people. 

Yesterday the lovely man pictured below arrived at Diana and Micha's, laden down with gifts and toting his own gentle charm.  Needless to say we adored him, both for the fruit and even more after he called us all beautiful women.

For all that is difficult, in Italy in these current days, there is still so much that is beautiful and I am truly grateful to the people who allow me in.

Genova tomorrow, the day when I get to introduce everyone here to that Ligurian city I love so very well.

To Step Out of the World ...

To step out of the world, to stop for a little bit ...  I discover that I am tired.

I discover so many ideas clamouring to be explored. 

I see a need to change how I live.

Here in my exquisite room, going over workshop notes, I need to lie on my bed periodically ... to rest, just for a couple of days.  And there's time, we don't begin until Sunday.

My mind was still racing and so I began with one of those meditative visualisations ...imagine you are lying on a beach in a beautiful place, then smiled, as I understood my reality.  I am here in a beautiful place, lying on a comfortable bed in a exquisitely decorated bedroom, in Italy.

Viktoria Mullova is playing Bach on my laptop, quietly, without destroying the peace of the Piedmont countryside. 

Sitting outside earlier, just before Diana and I set out to the market in Acqui Terme, I looked up ... of course there are grapes growing overhead here.