ROMA, UMBRIA,TUSCANY

After departing our Hotel Neptune (above) in Dubrovnik,  we are now in the heart of Italy having traversed three of the four papal states. Specifically, we are an hour away from Siena after lunching there today. I have become obsessed with food. Last night we went to a restaurant in Perugia that no tourist would ever find and ate with the locals - risotto for primi, veal artichoke for second piatti, and custard and chocolate for dessert. Fantastico! Today all I could think of was more pasta, and gelato, and when we arrived in Siena all I cared about was lunch. I ordered a papardelle porcini washed down with chianti classico, accompanied by bread and olive oil, insalata miste (the tomatoes, people!) and then a cup of gelato with four different flavours - hazelnut, pistachio, vanilla and strawberry. Heaven on a stick!

I have thrown all caution to the wind and barely glance at the cathedrals and sightseeing highlights, instead preferring to drink in the vineyard scenery as we tour in our beautiful Mercedes bus, so new you can still smell the leather! The four of us are getting on exceedingly well - you'd have to be crazy to be churlish in these conditions - and our 12 other fellow voyagers on Back Roads are easy on the nerves. Of course, the Italian guide, Augustino, is charm personified, jolly, good fun, and married to an Aussie so he knows we like "yummy" places! Buon appetito, everyone, think of me having MORE fresh pasta tonight under the stars! Below a photograph of the view from  our villa suite...

A GOLDEN DAY IN CROATIA

Once upon a time it was the Cote d'Azur.  In 2016, it's Dubrovnik. If you are Europe-based and sun-hungry, I would book and visit for five days immediately, tourist trap though this place be. But for Australians, who are not short of beaches and sunshine, two days is enough. Thankfully we had a great hotel with 180 degree views of the Adriatic as far as the eye could see, and a seaside spot for lounge lizards (with margaritas and pina coladas on tap) that provided the ideal location to do nothing but relax. Aaaaaaah! The old city is breathtaking, but packed with people from all over the world; aside from a leisurely stroll around this world heritage site, I would recommend the cable car ride to the top of the citadel's mountain. Two thousand metres above sea level you can see the beautiful natural scenery on the OTHER side of the shore-hugging metropolis, and enjoy another perspective of a breathtaking coastline and a glamorous holiday lifestyle that includes sailing to other islands, kayaking, quad biking, and more. Tomorrow: back to Rome and the next leg of this European idyll.

HELLO DUBROVNIK

Very happily for us the weather improved as we hit the Dalmatian coast and sailed over two consecutive days into the harbours of two Croatian islands, Hvar and Korcula. On Hvar we went for a walk through the hinterland and had lunch at a local farmer's hamlet high up in the hills overlooking the surrounding bays, the fragrant bouquet of olive tree blossoms wafting through the air as we sipped a Croatian white. Verdict: excellent. At Korcula, we abandoned our guides and walked and laughed with our fellow passengers, tired of the endless history lessons and church visits.  That evening we had the final Classic concert and it was beautiful - from Ravel's Bolero to Russian jazz to Debussy's Claire de Lune, each piece exquisitely interpreted by a United Nations of celebrated pianists. After the 90 minutes, the hairs on my arms were standing on end and I felt completely alive. Bravo! Bellissimo! Encore!

The holiday has not been without its glitches - I mislaid my passport at a critical moment and gave everyone, including myself, heart palpitations for a ghastly half hour until le passport was recovered somewhere not entirely expected. (I am very forgetful, it worries me). We've had two horrible days of drizzly grey, but the forecast is definitely on the up, and now I am holed up in probably the worst room in a dazzling four-star hotel. No sea view, and no chance of one, as the hotel is full.
I am glad however that the hotel is away from the old city which is far too busy - tourists swarm everywhere, and it's not even high summer yet.
Enough chatter for now. I am going for a cocktail. The challenge on this holiday is to restrain one's eating and drinking and so far, I have surprised myself, managing to eat only two meals a day and foregoing wine at meals for the majority of time in favour of occasional cocktails.
Alas, even on holiday, one does need to keep a beady eye on data usage, waistline, laundry... and, of course, passports!
Until ze next time, I send you love, mi amigos, and home remains firmly in my thoughts.

THE BALKAN STATES

THREE DAYS LATER in Montenegro:

It is already hard to commit to this blog because we have limited Internet on the boat (expensive) and we always seem to be busy. Today I have cancelled all excursions and am holing up in my cabin after a brief walk around the UNESCO heritage town of Kotor in Montenegro. The old town is 12 to 14th century and lovely, the entire port town surrounded by mountains with the clearest water traversing down the mountain to the sea below, transparent and indigo blue. The view from my cabin is straight up the mountain... from here I see the old fort town and the protective walls built on a steep incline all the way to the top. The weather is cool (around 19 deg C, I would guess) and it suits me because I heat up swiftly.

    So, after a stunning day in Amalfi, we moved on to the Aeolian islands and visited Lipari, the largest of seven volcanic islands, in grey, dismal weather which prevented us from seeing clearly the other six islands of the Aeolian archipelago as they were pointed out to us.

The following day we docked at the port of Otranto in Apulia, and drove 50 minutes to Lecce, “the Florence of the South” in a pouring downpour that made the guide give up and leave us to our own devices. Lecce does deserve its epithet because the entire old town is 16th century Baroque (King Charles V of Spain) built in beautiful honey coloured sandstone. This sandstone is exported all over the world, along with olive oil extracted from the 60 million olive trees that dot the landscape of the “heel” of Italy. Apulia is not far from Calabria, but I am not sure in which direction, with Sicily to the south and the Balkan countries across the ocean to the east.

   For the last three nights, for an hour before dinner, we have attended piano recitals organised by the French equivalent of ABC Classic radio. The first night was Chopin,      the second Argentinian tangos, last night exceptional virtuosity displayed by a Russian master, 44-year-old Nikolai Lugansky, who is currently at the top of his game. His skill was head-spinning. I have never heard the piano played like that, nor heard such sounds emerge from ye humble piano.  All quite interesting, but I know what I like and so far I have enjoyed Chopin’s nocturnes, and the moving, melodious music of Schubert (two of his Impromptu pieces, I believe) while the rest has not been especially restful to listen to. Today, as I miss lunch in deference to the non-stop eating, I will visit the gym, finish my John Grisham best-seller, and forget about antiquities and classical music. I confess, dear friends, that I am nothing less than a plebeian 21st century gal!

AMALFI COAST

Saturday 30 April, off the coast of Italy:

I’m in the gym, listening to Aretha Franklin singing “Say a Little Prayer” and I’m on an exercise bicycle, only about 5 more minutes to go, and I have one of those moments.

It’s like an orgasm. Exquisite, releasing, and all-too-brief. 

The subtle high of exercise endorphins is being released, energy flows through me even as I sweat profusely, and the view before me, through the floor-to-ceiling glass of the gym, is 180 degrees spectacular.

Bonjour, Isle of Capri.

The sky is a soft blue, the sea a darker blue, and the horizon is peaceful, with limestone cliffs and a picturesque port town of 20,000 inhabitants, swelling to 300,000, I’m told, in the ‘high’ season.

I am happy to view it from the balcony of my gorgeous room, or on the decks with my new friends, Jonathan and Julian (brothers, from the UK).

I hope to include a photograph or two with this blog, but I don’t wish to get bogged down with IT on my European holiday, especially as I wind down after 30 minutes in le petit gym. 10 kilometres of bicycling, and 175 calories used.  That takes account of roughly half my breakfast, ha ha.

In about an hour we disembark off the Amalfi Coast and head for Positano before a recital this evening of Chopin works.

Life, my friends, could be worse…

EARLY DAYS IN ROMA

Conversazione a vacazione:
Zenga: Are you guys hungry?
Michael: I haven't been hungry since 1987.
JB: I haven't been hungry since 2.30pm.
Michael and JB chortle merrily, delighted by their wit.
Zenga: What should we do next? Walk some more? Shop? Or back to the hotel for a siesta?
Chorus: Hotel!
... And so it goes. My friends, not a single one of my brain cells has fired since I landed, but my tastebuds, I realise, have been flat-lining for a long while. Now, here in Roma, they are dancing the fandango, twirling, cavorting, gavotting and frolicking with great abandon. How does spaghetti vongole taste so good? Or a pizza con mozzarella,  proscuitto e pomadore? Pescatore? Insalata verde?  The simplest things taste sublime....
Colosseum, Pantheon, St. Peter's. St Paul's. Marcus Agrippa, Emperor Augustus. Mussolini. Michelangelo. Verdi. The antiquities and stories go by in a blur. The last time I visited Rome I was electrified, shrieking with delight at this original,  exciting city. This time I am calmer, content. After all, I am here with three of my favourite people. There is nothing better than being surrounded by beauty, imbibing it through each of your senses, and not having to say terribly much, nor feel compelled to make decisions. Each of your group know you inside out. It is so terribly relaxing. And if you get lost, who cares?
Weatherwise, we have been lucky... the temperature is around 19 degrees C with occasional drizzles which is perfect for lots of walking, and neither too hot or too cold, provided you have layers and a soft, snuggly scarf.
Last night, instead of dining, we visited a nearby church for a recital of romantic arias by soprano and two tenors accompanied by four violins and the piano.  Rossetti, Puccini, Verdi, Donazetti, we were regaled with well-known arias and let the beautiful sounds fill the church to its high vaulted roof.  When in Rome... do as the Romans do, and the church, despite the school night, was comfortably full, gracious couples and even families with children there for a glass of friscati and 90 minutes of recital. Bliss.
Today we leave our gracious, elegant Hotel Quirinale for our luxury cruiser and I will be sorry to leave this gorgeous suite with its brilliant chandelier and high, high ceilings. We enjoyed our G&Ts at the end of the day,  a duo of palely handsome Italians crooners singing Ed Sheeran.
Alas, I must sign off: Steve can view CNN for only so long. The news focused today on Trump's foreign policy - an oxymoron, I suggest - so for now, dear friends, arrivederci.

ROAD TO ROME, APRIL 2016

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a jaded woman in possession of good fortune must be in want of a vacation abroad."

The photograph that accompanies this first epistle of my Italy 2016 blog is of my view today as I pack my suitcase to the refrains of Duffy singing "Stepping Stone". It is a melodious, cheerful song, in harmony with the autumnal sunshine pouring into the chambers of our near-empty apartment after several days of 'curing' following a buff and polish.

Of one thing I am sure: that when our 26-day foray to Italy is over, I will be longing once more to gaze my eyes upon this view. Because however jaded one is - and believe me, I am '100% proof' jaded - there is still nothing better than home sweet Lincoln Crescent. I know how fortunate I am, but my word, how to retain one's sense of good humour without the occasional get-away-from-it-all?

I am tired of watching my words, my bank accounts, my data usage, my weight, my back. I am weary of being nanny to my pooch. I am tired of searching for my spectacles because I find it difficult to locate anything without them on my face. I am sick of commuting by train to Olympic Park, Pandora app notwithstanding. Even another episode of my drip-feed drug, Justified, cannot sustain me in good temper for long.

No, it's time for me to visit not-so-foreign climes and escape the hot air circulating about impending elections, local and international - frankly my dear, I so don't give a damn - and drink in different views, both visual, intellectual and esoteric.

I will try to keep tabs on everything that we experience, but as the point of the exercise is TO LET GO, don't hold your breath. Rather, book YOUR next holiday - and start looking forward.

For me, the anticipation of Italy 2016 has been life-affirming and now my only remaining angst is that the holiday will not live up to expectations. We will see! For now, adieu dear friends as I wing my way in train of la dolce vita....