10th June 2009

mercoledi deici giugno
What a superb day. The weather is great, perhaps just a little warm, but not unbearable. Started with breakfast downstairs in the breakfast room. This is such a nice place, and it is all so tastefully decorated. My breakfast this morning was corn flakes with a kiwi fruit (locally grown and I remember reading a few years back about some local Tauranga people going to Italy to plant kiwi fruit and I remember wondering why some New Zealanders would want to introduce the fruit to the other side of the world to be in season when ours are, but there doesn't appear to be an abundance of them in the shops, and the one I had today was certainly very tasty.) I followed this with a croissant. These come packaged and aren't buttery and flakey like the ones we get at home. They are much more bread-like and the one I had today again was filled with apricot jam. A jug of coffee was brought to my table, I heard Alice making it on the coffee machine, but then it comes to the table in a jug. So I got just over two cups of black coffee – not too strong I've read through my notebook from Headwater to see what they say about coffee and it is all quite different from home. It is an absolute definite that you don't drink cappuccino after lunch or dinner – it is considered too heavy on the stomach. I learnt that the coffee I had yesterday – a Latte Macchiato – is a cup of hot milk with a dash of espresso, as opposed to a cafe latte which is a cup of hot milk with an espresso.
Today was my rest day at Galzignano. There were a number of choices, but I took the easiest options. I didn't fancy riding all the way back up that hill I mistakenly took yesterday – a 20km round trip to Arqua Petrarca. I opted for the easy option, a gentle ride back to Valsanzibio to the garden and it was certainly worth the trip.

Because I am staying at albergo Belvedere I got a E1 discount on the entry fee and spent over two hours wandering around the gardens. Not a lot of flowers, but lots of trees and fountains and statues. On my way to the gardens I passed an old lady selling cherries on the side of the road so I stopped and bought a box (I think 1kg) for E4.00. They are so sweet and yummy so I had a picnic of cherries and an Almond Magnum icecream at the gardens.
I am finding that I am spending very little, because my accommodation and dinner and breakfast is all paid for so that's good. I don't have to scrimp on the luxuries, and can go into things like the garden at E7.50 which normally I might think twice about going into.
After my “picnic lunch” I cycled back to Albergo Belvedere, planning on stopping and window shopping through the villagio, but it was after 1pm and everything was closed, so I headed right on back to Belvedere. Cycling through il villagio I came across two policemen who had pulled over a driver in a BMW who had sped past me a couple of kms down the road. He was taking documents out of his wallet,, while they stood menacingly on each side of his door with their hands on their guns – one of them had a pistol, the other a much larger automatic looking machine gun. Oh scary, I just kept me head down and kept cycling and was pleased to arrive at the hotel without incident where I sat and relaxed on the terrace with an orange juice before going upstairs for a twenty minute Nana Nap. That wasn't a sight I expected to see out here in the country. Got used to seeing policemen with pistols on their hips in Venice.
Later, closer to 4pm I walked up to the church, whose bells I hear ringing all the time. The church is no longer used, apart from the bells, and alongside is a cemetery. Now I'm not normally one to go fossicking through old graveyards, but this one was so beautiful. Every grave was well looked after, even though some of them had been there since 1940 something. All had fresh flowers on them and almost every grave had a photo of the person on it. It was perched up on top of the hill so I took some great photos of the view from up there. I worried momentarily about my plan to walk to “il villagio” and then remembered I didn't have to walk all the way up here again on the way home. So I headed down to the village, but unfortunately a lot of the places were closed, it is Wednesday and this is the day they close in the afternoon. Different towns have different opening times, and closing days. . Open from 8-1 and then again from 3-4 or some 4-5pm, Some close Monday, some Tuesday and this one closed today. Wow that it is confusing, just as well I didn,t need to buy anything.

I bought a limone gelato to eat on the way back which was lovely and cooling and refreshing. When I arrived back at the albergo I decided to sit outside on the terrace for a while, just reflecting on what i've seen and done so far, and contemplating whats to come. It's so peaceful, the hills surrounding the albergo, very little traffic going past.
I was pleased today to be able to finally able to connect to the internet and catch up with news from home. I had to come downstairs to be close to the office to connect by wi-fi and you can imagine my shock horror when I opened my blog page to add the last three days to find that the instructions were all in Italian. I thought for a few horrible moments that I wasn't going to be able to work it out, but my trusty phrasebook came to the rescue and I finally got it sorted. Took me a while, but I was pleased also to be able to get into my h.graham@kinect address and get all my emails. How clever the internet is and it made me feel not quite so alone.
And then before I knew it, it is time for la cena. (dinner) They dine late here – la otto meno un quarto (¼ to eight). The owner had spoken with me earlier in the day to discuss tonights menu and so I just sat and was waited on. I felt so important and special, they really go out of their way to look after you here.
Tonight there is a table set for me out on the terrace so I go out there and savour a glass of vino bianco (another product made by the owners) before my meal arrives and although I am quite hungry by now, I resist the temptation to scoff all the bread in the basket so that I have room for the real food.
The first course was spaghetti – flavoured with garlic and pepper, with some slivers of chilli. It was oily but not unpleasantly so, quite spicy but not too spicy and was sprinkled generously with parmesan. Interestingly it was served on a flat plate, not in a bowl like it is served in New Zealand and you only use a fork, not a fork and spoon like at home. I sit quietly for a second or two and watch what the locals do before I start to eat so that I don't make a complete ass of myself.
That good looking man from last night is my silent dining companion again, this time at the table next door. But the tables are placed so that we are looking out at the view and not at each other, so we don't even make eye contact at all. And then he goes and spoils the image by lighting up a smoke after his first course. What a waste of good food to ruin the taste with a cigarette. Fortunately the very light breeze is blowing in the other direction so the smoke drifts away from me and I don't even smell it. Thank goodness, I would hate to ruin the meal with that horrible smell.
Now the second course. On discussion with Alice's mother this afternoon, she explained with the aid of her Italian-English dictionary that she would like to cook me the house special for dinner tonight and needed to check that I ate fish. Now as you know I have this severe allergy to shellfish and other seafood so I tend to steer clear of fish of most kinds, and the description in her dictionary was “sea scorpion.” She assured me it was a fillet of fish, white fleshy fish and so I thought I'd take a chance. I showed her the phrase in my phrasebook sono allergico i frutti di mare, which I have learnt off pat, and she patted my hand and told me okay okay.
So out comes the pan fried sea scorpion. It was thankfully real fish, quite a think chunky fish , very lightly fried, and covered with chopped tomato and onion, again sprinkled quite generously with their olive oil. It is so delicious. And then out comes the salada. Lettuce, thick slices of tomato and grated carrot. Thankfully I knew what to do with the salad – thanks to Bernhard the Swiss gentleman I met when I was learning to speak Italian in NZ. We had gone out to dinner at La Barca at the Mount and he had explained about dining in Italy and how to add the oil and balsamic to your salad and mix at the table. Thank you Bernhard for the lesson.
Again there are no carbs in the main dish, all very healthy so I am feeling good about eating everything. After that first night I was feeling anxious that by the end of my holiday I will have gained tons, but hopefully the last couple of days meals have compensated. I surely don't want to be worrying about it because I want to enjoy the whole experience. Hopefully I am cycling far enough each day to work the calories off.
This is fine dining at it's best. I feel like a VIP being waited on and made to feel so special. The evening is perfect, still warm and balmy, the birds are singing and the sun has gone down behind the hills but it it is still quite light, although they have just turned on the subtle lighting on the deck.
And now Alice offers me dessert – again choices – Tiramasu, crème caramel, or ice cream, or was there something else I would prefer. I go for the tiramasu – I have to have it at least once while I am here in Italy. And what a good choice. It is divine. Nothing like the kiwi tiramasu.i have had. It is so delicately soft and spongy and generously sprinkled with the most heavenly cocoa powder which is smooth and soft, not sweet but not bitter and which just melts in your mouth. In between the sponge is this delicious cream, not sweet, but golden yellow, not sickly rich. Um, it is delicious. She also brought me a bowl of their home grown fresh cherries, floating in water. And they are even sweeter than the ones I bought on the way to the gardens this morning.
And so ends a perfetto day. I go upstairs to pack my panniers for my 36km cycle tomorrow. I am headed to Teolo. And I sure hope I don't get lost tomorrow as I am surrounded by mountains and it will not be pleasant. The hotel at Teolo is on top of a hill and I have the option of calling the Headwater rep in the afternoon and arranging for her to bring the van and take me up there if the thought of the climb is too much. I will see how I go.
There is no internet at the hotel in Teolo so I won't get to post another page until I get to Agriturismo L'Albara on Saturday.
Oh and by the way – A huge thanks to John Eales and Rona who insisted that I buy myself these most unflattering cycle pants. They may look ghastly but they worked a treat that first day. And thanks to Linda for the loan of the gel seat. The Headwater rep said I wouldn't need it as the saddles were very soft, but I put it on anyway. No harm in being comfortable. So the only parts of me that were really hurting that night were my shoulders and arms. The butt was fine, and because I only had a 6 or so km ride today I wore my ordinary slacks, and what a difference. I will stick to the padded ones, even for the short rides. To hell with how I look.
Well that's all for now.
Ciao
p.s. It's now the morning and I am about to set off. So far so good. I think I know which way I'm going today' well at least for the first 5km and then I have the short option or the long option.Here's hoping.

My first day's ride

Food, glorious food. Well breakfast is a very different affair here in Italy. This morning it was a pottle of pineapple yoghurt and then a choice of a tiny wee bread roll with jam, or a packaged croissant, or another biscuit type thing wrapped up in paper. So I opted for the wee bread roll. Even after such a big dinner last night, I felt I needed to eat something because of the long cycle ride ahead of me, but the English couple who were going to be walking 20ks didn't want to eat much which rather surprised me, in view of the size of the English breakfasts Rowan and I enjoyed.
I also had a cappuccino (in a very tiny cup) which was rather nice, but quite different tasting to coffee we have at home.
The other couple set off on their walk by just after 8am and I had to wait until 9am for Sarah to come and set me up with my bike and go over my maps with me. I was starting to get rather nervous by this stage. My panniers were packed and my suitcase repacked and downstairs ready for Sarah to take on to Albergo Belvedere, the hotel in Galzingnano Terme. I sat downstairs out on the terrace waiting for her and she arrived right on the dot of 9am. Oh boy did I really start to get the jitters when she started going over the map. Many changes to the written instructions and I traced an orange line on the map of where to go. I must have looked pretty terrified because Sarah kept asking me if I was okay. I tried to assure both her and me that I was. She said I was the first they had had doing on their own, and certainly the only woman ever travelling alone, not sure if she meant since she has been with the company, or all up and they have been going for twenty years. Then it was a quick brief on the bike, the gears, and how to fix a puncture, and then I was on my todd. I set out at 11.00am apparently with plenty of time to cycle my scheduled 38kms to Galzingnano.

Well the first stage to Este was lovely. Out in the fresh air, riding along a lane and then a canal path, which was shared by cars on occasions, and loads of other very serious cyclists in their lycra gear whizzing by, in both directions. The country side is beautiful, riding through vineyards and gardens. Peas, beans, tomatoes, olives are the things I recognise and fields of a green vege a bit like silver beet but not quick – maybe some kind of spinach.
People nod and say Buon Giorno or Ciao as they cycle by and its a bit nerve-wracking sharing the narrow track with vehicles which sneak up behind you and are quite difficult to hear coming, likewise the bikes. Much prefer motor cycles – at least you hear them coming.
I arrive at Este about 12.00. That was 16ks and I was feeling great. It was a gentle ride and it wasnt too hot at that stage. Sarah suggested a coffee or an icecream here and then lunch in Monselice, so I decided to take her advice and ordered a cafe latte. What I in fact got was a latte machiato which cost me .30c more than I expected to pay. Well what the heck it was only .30. the coffee was luke warm and incredibly milky, but rather nice. In a tall glass with a long spoon in it ??? not a lot of froth on it so I suppose the spoon was for sugar.
Leaving Este was a bit of an adventure. The instructions were a bit vague, but I finally found myself on the right road, but then I got pestered by this very young, very very very shiny black man who told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. I was walking pushing my bike at this stage while I looked for the right way out of town, and he was walking alongside of me. I walked faster and he was calling out “I love you” “Please marry me” Please don't leave me” at the top of his voice. He either spoke perfect English, or maybe these were the only words he knew, I didn't stick around to find out which, and as soon as I found the right canal bridge to cross and turn left out I was on my bike and out of there.
So much for being hassled by Italian men – I get a foreigner. Sarah did say that I should feel perfectly safe in this area, as the Italian men are lovely and will not hassle me, nor will the pinch my bottom. You have to go to Rome if you want that. The women will think I am strange and will not understand why or what I am doing, but will be nice to me, and the hotel people will go out of their way to make my stay as perfect as possible.
The instructions are a bit confusing here, but a day later as I type these up they become a bit clearer. I had difficulty finding Via Ca Mori and everyone I asked was a visitor as this was right by the bus station. Finally I found a local riding a bicycle so he showed me the way, and off I was again. The instructions were great for this part – continue for 2.3k (great I don't have a speedo so have no idea how far 2.3k is but the road split as promised and I took the gravel road as instructed. I even made it past Lago Azzurro on my left as per instructions, but then it all turned to custard.
Cross the small bridge over the canal and turn right into via Meggiorina. Well here I had two choices, go straight ahead or turn left in via Meggiorina. There was nothing to the right and so I went left. The next instruction says continue all the way down to the “Give Way” sign. Well that was a “Stop” sign. The next instruction says turn right over the bridge. Well I have a bridge on my left. So I turn left. And then I end up back at the junction of the gravel road. I only recognised it because of the statue and rather large and beautiful memorial to someone not far from the corner, and I thinks to myself, “Oh buggar – I've just gone round in a big loop.” So I go back down the road to the stop sign and turn right. Now its looking good because the next instruction says you are heading towards a main road towards Marendole. The road goes gently uphill after passing an equestrian centre, but before the bridge over the canal turn left onto a narow road. You pass a farm and enter the hamlet of Marendole and after passing the church turn left.
Well still wrong Heather, no canal, no bridge, but I can see a church so head towards it, but before reaching it I see that I am arriving at a village called Baone. So I backtrack to where I should have turned right into via Meggiorina and take the straight ahead option, and this time end up at Case Teralba. At this stage I have no idea where I am, but have gone uphill past an equestrian centre but it is not looking good still, and so I ask directions from a lycra clad man (wow all this lycra, muscled and tanned bodies around the place) who couldn't speak Inglese but could show me on the map where I was and which way to Monselice. I really wanted to get back on the right road so headed back the way I came trying to read the map, but just ended back at the top of the hill heading to Baone, so turned around again and went back to Case Teralba and decided to just head on to Monselice from there. At least I knew where I was on the main map, even though on the hand drawn instruction map from the company I had no idea where I was.
Just on approaching Monselice, by this time getting close to 3pm and all I had had since breakfast at 7am was that one cafe machiato at Este I was starting to feel peckish, but came across some more cyclists on the side of the road by a roundabout, studying a map. I ask in my best Italian if they spoke English and thankfully they did a little, but in fact that spoke perfect English. He was a Swede and she was German and they were heading to Abano Terme via Galzignano Terme which was where I was headed so they offered for me to tag along with them, although they were taking an entirely different route to the one marked on my map I suggested we followed my map, as the track was supposed to follow a canal path and was very gentle, but they were certain that their short cut, although more challenging, was off the beaten track and we would encounter very little traffic. Sounded good to me and it was great to have some company, so I opted to go with them.
Well we started to climb, and we climbed some more, and then even more, and we pushed our bikes up a great deal of it. She (and I found out later that her name was Annette) kept saying she thought she was too old for cycling and that cycling in Italy was way more difficult than in Germany because they have special cycle paths in Germany and you don't have to share with cars. I told her that most of the track I had been on had been very quiet with only the occasional car and that they were very courteous and slowed down as they passed me, but I don't think she really believed me.
Anyway we kept plodding on. By this time it was very hot, and I had already changed from my little mauve top into my long sleeved and longer blue and black top to keep the sun off. Don't want to get too burnt on my first day, although I do want to go home with a nice healthy tan.
We went past Arqua Petrarca which is one of the suggestions for my rest day tomorrow, but having made it this far up the hill today I may opt for something more gentle tomorrow. And then we were heading down hill towards Galzignano. We go past Valsanzibio which is another suggestion for tomorrow and Leif and Annette decide they might stop and look at the gardens now and Leif goes off to buy a ticket. He comes back to Annette and I and they then decide that maybe a longer look around tomorrow might be a better idea, and as I have still about 5km to ride and they have well over 20k it might be a good idea to just press on, so he goes back to the ticket office and gets a refund. At this point we exchange business cards in case we are ever in each other's territory. This is the nice thing about travelling, you meet such nice people. And I guess because I was on my own I teamed up with them, if I had had a companion we probably would have just exchanged pleasantries and gone our separate ways.

A bit more downhill stuff and we ride into Galzignano. Oh how pleased I am to see that sign. I am back on track with the instructions and I turn left at the roundabout to enter the town. At the next roundabout I turn right and go uphill for 500m and as per the instructions see the sign for Albergo Belvedere on my left, where I am staying tonight. What a welcome sight. It is 5.42 – some six and three quarter hours since I set out this morning, and apart from an hour looking around Este, the rest of it has been on this darned bike.
But what a welcome at the albergo. It is beautiful, and the room is perfect, and even better, I get to stay here two nights. It is run by a family and the son and his sister look after the guests. Alice is beautiful and very keen to practice her English, so I don't get much opportunity to practice my Italian which is nowhere as good as her English. I am told dinner is at 7.40pm and after a shower and changing I go downstairs for a drink out on the balcony. It is so peaceful and lovely, and I go over my map. I borrowed a pink highlighter from the son, I think Luigi but I will check his name, and mark the route I took instead of the route I supposed to which is marked in orange. I was way off track, but all is well that ends well and here I am at the right place.
I went back upstairs and did a bit of handwashing, but am terrified I will fall asleep and miss dinner, I was so knackered. So I stay sitting up and did have forty winks, but thankfully woke up in time, probably jolted awake as my head jerked sideways because I was sitting up on the bed.
Dinner was great – and remember I'm starving, only having had a coffee at Este and that wee bread roll and a yoghurt for breakfast.
Again choices to make here – the first pasta option included tuna, so I went for the vegetable pasta. It was delicious. Slightly creamy, but I think probably buttery and oily but not greasy at all, with tomato and slivers of peppers (yellow and orange). Sprinkled with lots of fresh parmesan. Oh
yum. Wish I could make it taste like that.
Second course choices were pizza margareta, mozarella something or other and pork with mushrooms, so I opted for the mozarella. An unusual dish for a main course, but I am pleased I chose it because it was very light. Four large slices of fresh mozarella cheese in the middle of the plate surrounded by slices of fresh tomato, all sprinkled with, I think, basil. I sprinkled it with the home produced extra vergine di olivia which was very nice and Balsamic di Modena which was very tasty. Because there was no carb in this part of my meal, I soaked up the olive oil and balsamic with some of the yummy bread in the basket. I order a ¼ of vino rosso and it came out in a cute little jug. Also home produced, and very nice and went well with what I was eating – well I thought it did.
For dessert I was offered icecream or fresh fruit – the choices apple, banana, kiwi, or peach, so I chose the peach. Another good choice. Alice brought me out the two most perfect looking peaches I have ever seen and man were they good. Sweet, juicy I would imagine sun-ripened. They were the nicest peaches I have had in a long long while.
I am the only woman in the restaurant. To my right are two middle aged men, I think Italian and ??? perhaps a couple. Not overly obvious but they smile sweetly at each other all through their meal. One of them, the shorter good looking one drinks bira, while the other drinks wine. The shorter one smiles at me as they leave the table after very quickly eating their meal. It was hard to pick which language they were speaking, it sounded Italian but then sometimes it did not.
At the table on my left a three young men who I think are either Dutch or German, most probably German.However they speak fluent Italian when Alice comes to take their order. One of them has a sort of swastika shaped tattoo on his hand. They giggle and snigger all through their meal. They don't look at me so I don't think its me they are sniggering at but hard to tell. Perhaps it the men behind them – who knows, who cares. They have difficulty eating the pizza they ordered with their knife and fork, and I am not sure if that is because the pizza base is tough, or they cant use their utensils. In the end the give up and pick the remainder up and eat it with their fingers. Well as far as I am concerned that is the only way to eat pizza.
And sitting all alone at a table next the lads is a dishy looking guy, I presume Italian, but he looks straight ahead all through his meal and only smiles and says ciao as I leave the dining room. And just as I leave another single man comes in and sits down and picks up his newspaper. So where are all the women??
Across the road and up a bit of a hill is a church and its bells have been ringing on and off since I got here. Sometimes just chiming, but at 6.30 a rather unusual ringing, but while I have having my dinner it chimed at 8pm but much more than just 8 dongs.
I took just over an hour to eat my dinner, savouring every single mouthful, knowing that as soon as I climbed the stairs and made it to the bed I would be fast asleep. And that is exactly how it was.
The beds are incredibly hard, and I remember in my phrasebook of things to learn was 'vorrei un letto piu morbido' which is I'd like a softer bed. I thought this was a rather strange phrase to have to learn, but now having spent three nights in an Italian bed I can understand. However, I will be tough and get used to it. I was so darned knackered that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow anyway and didn't notice anything till I awoke 5.30am.
So from Albergo Belvedere in Galzignano Termo it is ciao for another day.
Woops sorry Rach, I did warn you I would probably write a lot. But with no-one to talk to most of the time, I have to write it all down. Roxy – the clothes shops, the shoe shops – they are fabulous, even in the tiny little village of Este, the fashion was fabulous. The women in the streets look pretty casual so who knows when they wear the fabulous clothes in the windows. And the shoes, again they are all walking around the cobbled streets in flat shoes, whilst the shoes in the windows are platforms, stilettos and heavily jewelled. And then of course there are handbags to match – bit ones, small ones, all shapes and colours. Lots of bright colours. Nothing navy or black – lime green and orange. Oh some of the clothes were black and white, well actually mostly white with black patterns, but definitely nothing strictly black.
Woops here I go on another tangent, so I will stop here and see if I can get this darned internet to work here. Alice tells me they have wireless so I should be okay.
Ciao for now.

8.6.09

It's 10pm and I have just climbed the stairs to my room having finished this huge dinner. Delicious,but if I have to eat like this every night I am going to come back home the size of a house. Started with tagliatelle with meat for a starter (that would have been enough) but the next course was roast pork, potatoes, beans, peas and roast onion. Very tasty, and then panna cotta with strawberry to finish off. Washed down of course with a glass or two of vino rosso.
I have my panniers packed and I am ready to set out tomorrow. The tour girl is bringing my bike in the morning at 9am and will brief me then and I start out about 10.00am. Wow, now I am really nervous. There is an English couple doing the walking trip, we all got picked up at Vicenza and brought out to Cortela by van. They got briefed tonight as they need to set out at just after 8am, so we sat together for dinner. This is their 6th Headwater tour, so that helped boost my confidence, if nothing else then in the company. But we are the only ones doing the trip at this point. And the walkers and cyclists don't meet up again until dinner on the final night. There is another group of cyclists coming in two days time and they will meet up with Chris and Allen midway. But apart from that we're on our own.
So when I finish this I will seriously read my notes for tomorrow so that things look at least vaguely familiar In the meantime I will bring you up to date with today.
As you know I was in Venezia. Well actually outside of Venezia at Mestre. So after breakfast, cereal and yoghurt followed by a croissant with a couple of cups of cafe negro, I caught the bus into Venice to the bus station I started out at yesterday. And then I spent the day wandering about, taking photos, and getting used to being out there on my own. It was still a bit scary trying to order food – well the ordering went okay it was really knowing the process. Here you order eat and then pay at a different place on the way out. Bit confusing really. Because I had had breakfast at 7.30am by 10.45 I was feeling peckish so had a wee pizza (pizza picolo) and a cappuccino. And then about 1pm I had a panino picolo ( a tiny filled roll of ham and cheese) and this time a cafe latte. I went into a couple of churches, they were amazingly beautiful with amazing paintings on the ceilings. Met a couple of kiwi's on one of the canal bridges and stopped to talk to them for a while, so good to be speaking English. I haven't spoken properly since breakfast time yesterday – I had foreigners beside me on the plane. He was a very good looking young Maori chap, recognisable by his tattoos on his arm. They weren't talking to each other, so I took a gamble and said Kia Ora kiwis as they walked past and sure enough they were. Figured if they weren't they wouldn't answer me. They had just got off the bus having just arrived from Turkey.
Along the way I bought a few nick nacks and then headed back to Mestre to collect my bag from the hotel and buy a ticket to Vicenza. It cost E3.85 to go from Venice to Vicenza – a 58 minute train journey. That's less than a cup of coffee. I kept worrying that I was on the wrong train as none of the station names were recognisable, and my GPS wasn't matching the names of the stations, but thankfully I ended up at the right place. As I said, I took an earlier train, and sat at the station reading my book until I was approached by the Headwater rep, a lovely young lady from the UK who has been out here doing this job since the beginning of May.
Well I guess I should try and get some sleep, if I am going to cycle 38km to tomorrow, and here's hoping I can log into the internet from here. Bet I can't.
Ciao for now and will catch you all tomorrow.

7.6.09

Well that was a brief stop in London, and expensive. I booked a room at the Millenium in Knightsbridge because that was walking distance to the the venue for the Highland Club Ball. What a mission it was getting there though. The drive down the M1 from Haslington (when we finally got away because Robert kept finding one more thing he needed to show Rowan) was okay and we did it in fairly good time, but then we came off the motorway and started negotiating our way through the suburbs. What an eye opener that was. Thank goodness for the GPS, I know how we would have done it without her telling us where to go and where to turn.
We drove in through Cricklewood, which was very ethnic. So many shiny shiny black people, as don't well as middle eastern and Africans. Then we passed into a more up-market area – the road was wider, more residential, and finally round Hyde Park Corner and past the back of the palace and into Knightsbridge. We parked around the back and Rowan helped me get my case upstairs. By this time it was 6.30pm and the London Highland Club ball was due to start at 7.00pm so I quickly had a shower and got into my posh frock and was going to get Rowan to drive me, until we got instructions from the concierge and discovered it was going to be easier for me to walk there, rather than negotiate the one way roads. So I headed off and Rowan went off to catch up with his mates for his last Saturday night in the city.
It was a pleasant walk to the dance, and I had a lovely evening – met a kiwi girl from Rotorua who is living and working in Switzerland and we made tentative arrangements for me to perhaps go to her place at the end of my second cycling stint, before going to Geneva. Will mean juggling my plans a bit, but it would be nice to be shown around a different part of Switzerland by a local. One of her friends is going to the Conference so I may be able to travel down with her.
The walk back from the dance was lovely – what a nice part of London – I walked past all the trendy shops – Versace, Prada, Yves St Laurent, Gucci – just to name a few. What glitzy window displays and what fabulous fashions. Roxy you would just love it – You and I will have to come back here as soon as you've finished studying. The shoes – wow - I've taken a photo of the window display, sure hope it turns out okay. Walking past the shops at 11.30pm taking photos is a dead give-away that you are either a tourist or a spy for the fashion industry – hope they thought I was the latter !!!!
The hotel was lovely, pity I got here so late and had to leave so early – I didn't even get to enjoy a breakfast as I had to be at the airport by 7.30am so that meant leaving at 7.00am. I opted for a taxi in the end, the thought of lugging my suitcase to the nearest tube station at that hour – in the pouring rain (and there was thunder at 6am) was not a pleasant thought. A very interesting taxi driver from Turkey – a Muslim married to a Polish Catholic, who has two children. I got his whole life story, it was very interesting, he seemed a very sensible man.
Check in at the airport was quick once I learned you have to self-check and get your boarding pass before you present to the counter to check your baggage, but after that all was simple and problem free. The flight was quick, just two and a bit hours and before I knew it we were in Italy.
I was very surprised, (and I might add extremely pleased ) to be met at arrivals by a gorgeous young lady holding up a card with my name on it. I was certainly not expecting that. She had been instructed to collect me and take me to the square. She asked where I was staying and she then gave me instructions on how to get from the square to my hotel - I was to take a bus to the railway station, and my hotel was close by.
So okay, me thinks, here comes my very first test of travelling alone. She drops me off at the bus station behind the square and tells me to get a ticket from Roma Square to Mestre Train Station, and then I'm on my own.
I join the queue and don't hear a word of English being spoken. There are people everywhere and I start wracking my brain for the right words for bus ticket, how much etc. And then it's my turn – and within a few seconds I have spent my first E1.10 and I have a ticket in my hand. Two minutes later I am standing on the bus, very few seats, lots of standing room, trying to manipulate my suitcase and overnight bag, hold on to the bloody rail so I don't fall over, wandering how the hell I will know when to get off this thing, when I couldn't get off at the right stop in Auckland.
But surprisingly I did – it was well signposted and I recognised the word stazione!!! So off I get and stand there trying to get my bearings. Ask a couple of people in my very bestest Italian “Dove albergo Trieste?” First two shake their head “Non comprendo signora.” Oh sh...... I think to myself. But then I find someone who says “ah yes just down there cinque” and so I walk another 50 metres and find the hotel, the sign was hidden behind some scaffolding.
An old hotel, the room is so very tiny, the bed so very hard. It has shutters on the windows and so you need the light on even in the daytime and it is very quiet I haven't seen or heard another guest at all.
I unpacked had a bit of a shower – the toilet, bidet, hand basin and shower are all in this little space not as big as my wardrobe at home, so you kind of sit on the loo to shower your feet. Then of course the whole room is wet.
By this time it is about 4pm and I am starving hungry. Had tea and toast at the airport before I got on the plane, then a coffee and a sandwich on the plane, so I am starting to need some food, so I go out to investigate. The man on the desk at the hotel isn't particularly helpful and I ask for a map but he doesn't have one. I enquire about the train I have to catch to Vicenza tomorrow and he says “plenty time” Does that mean he will help me tomorrow?
So I go out to have a look around. Funny little place and of course I have no idea where I am. I go out of the hotel – the stazione is directly in front of me and it has a bar and a McDonald's and a Mercato (market). It is busy, the trains pull in and out and hundreds of people come through, buy coffee (espresso in those tiny wee cups and I'm not certain I'm ready for one of those just yet and food and I can't seem to work out what the system is. Can't see where they are ordering and paying, and there doesn't seem to be a queue to join. So I decide to walk down the street and see if I can find a little cafe somewhere where I can sit quietly and order a meal.
I walk down the street, people everywhere strolling slowly, there are lots of ethnic food places, Indian, Chinese, Turkish and always outside about six men leaning in the doorway, laughing chatting and smoking. Inside only men sitting down eating – Don't the women eat here – no wonder they all look so good.
So I walk for quite a number of blocks – there are a few other shops but it is not really a shopping area, its more houses with a few shops thrown in – so I turn around and wander back – trying to look like a local who knows where she's going. Must be working – I've been here three hours and I haven't had my butt pinched yet!!!!!
So I decide to head back to the stazione and try and work out what the system is. I am starving and thirsty. I chicken out and decide the easiest option is to buy McDonald's. At least I know what I am getting, and the people queue up just the same as at home. So my first meal in Italy is a double cheese and crispy bacon burger and a coke.
I then wander down the stazione to check out how to buy my ticket for Vicenza tomorrow. I know I am being picked up at the stazione at 1750. The train leaves Mestri at 1648 and arrives 1753 so hopefully my contact will wait three minutes for me. I am now starting to feel better. I can understand the timetable, I recognise the words.
I am not confident enough to catch a bus back to the square as it is now around 7pm so I head back to the hotel. Still nobody around, am I the only one staying here? Oh forgot to say I bought some yoghurt and chocolate milk at the mercato to take back to the room in case I need something else to eat later on – a big sign in the lift – no food in the room – fine E30,00 for opposition of this rule. I hope yoghurt isn't classed food!
My body clock hasn't clicked into place yet and I am dead tired, so crash early, but now it is 1am local time and I am wide awake. My computer is telling me it is 11.51 am so I eat one of the pottles of yoghurt and the chocolate milk and sit and type a bit more of my blog. I've had a really good sleep and it's still a long time till breakfast.
But I will post this on the blog and try and get some more sleep and perhaps by tomorrow I will be in sync with the time.
Ciao for now.

We're in Cheshire

We're in Cheshire and have managed to cram an awful lot into a couple of days. It's Saturday and we arrived in Crewe on Thursday night.
We're staying with Robert and Tricia and it has been 35 years since I last saw them. John grew up next door to Robert and they were great mates all through school and early working years and when John and I came here in 1974 Haslington was our home base.
Rowan has had a ball catching up on his father's history. We have photographed the house John grew up in, Gran's house, caught up with John's cousin who took us to visit everyone's favorite Aunt Ruby who is 96 years old. The poor old thing was quite confused, she really thought Rowan was John and couldn't quite register that Rowan was 27 years old and she last saw John 35 years ago. It was too much for her poor old brain. But she was such a delight.
We paid a visit to the agricultural college that John attended and got shown the latest 'state of the art' milking parlour and the dairy unit, then drove past the farm John worked on and finished the day with a pint or two at the White Lion at Bartomley followed by dinner at the Legs of Mann. Another really late night, but so great for Rowan to spend time with his father's family.
Today we head off back to London and I have the London Highland Club ball tonight, and Rowan will go out with his mates. I fly to Italy tomorrow morning, have to be at the airport at 7.00am.
So I will talk to you all again when I get to Italy.

What an experience. It is now Thursday morning, about 7am and the key tag on the hotel key tells me I'm in West Yorkshire. Now that wasn't quite the plan, and I'm not entirely sure how we ended up here, but I've just had a good nights sleep, Rowan is still asleep and I have time to write up my blog before we go and get some breakfast and hit the road for Chester.
But to fill you in up till now - all pretty simple really – turn up at the airport, get on a plane and fly for 27 hours and you end up at Heathrow. The Qantas flight to LA was great – pretty bumpy along the way, so much so that we were all strapped in including the cabin crew for about 30 minutes, but we got through that okay. The air hostess sitting at the back of the plane kept yelling “Sit Down” as people got up wanting to go to the loo. She was getting quite grumpy and said to one guy -can't you read the sign, it says fasten seatbelts. He was disgruntled, obviously needed to go to the loo, but she sent him back to his seat.
Anyway we made it safely to LA where I had to collect my baggage and re-check it in for the ongoing flight. Had about 5 hour wait here, but by the time you walk to the next terminal and re-check in the time goes quite quickly.
Luckily I didn't have any US dollars or I might have been tempted to buy one of those Sony e-readers I have been checking out on the internet, and I resisted the temptation to put it on the Card.
The next flight to Heathrow was on British Air. Again good flight, but I don't think the services as anywhere as good as Qantas, although this time the in-flight entertainment was working and I watched a couple of movies in between reading the saucy novel Kathy S gave me to read.
The Heathrow terminal 5 experience was great. What a fabulously efficient, huge place this was. Through border control, pick up the baggage and through to the arrivals lounge and there was Rowan waiting for me. Then onto the tube and out to Shepherd's Bush where he has been staying with Stocky and Philly.
I had a shower, Rowan went down to his 'local' chicken take-away and got us some Tandoori Chicken and chips and salad for lunch, and then we hit the road. Our first idea was to stay in London but then we decided on Plan B, head towards Cheshire and get a B&B along the way, heading vaguely towards Sherwood Forest.
Well that sounded very simple. But – I fell asleep in the car, and Rowan just kept driving towards
Nottingham and then it was not just as simple as finding a motel, hotel or B&B. They just don't seem to exist. But then we discovered that Southwell was close by, so a quick detour to check it out. Thought it would be a good place to stay, but unfortunately the place was booked out, an antiques fair and a Morris Dancing Folk Festival here at the weekend, and they were expecting 12000 visitors, so no room for Heather and Rowan.
So on to Plan C. Set the GPS to get us back onto the motorway and we will stay at one of the service areas, and that's how we ended up at the Travelodge Wakefield Woolley Edge, in West Bretton, West Yorkshire, somewhere on the M1.
But what the heck, we were hungry and tired, so booked in and it was only this morning that I discovered where we were. So now for a shower and breakfast and we're heading for lunch at the Wild Boar at Beeston near Chester. Check out the website. I found it at home by just doing a google search. A fabulous old place that John brought me to for dinner in 1974. So reliving a few memories here. Will catch you all later.

Day 1 - 1st June 2009

I'm on my way. up at 5.30am to be at the airport just after 6am for the 6.50 flight. How amazing, my bag weighs in at 16kg - not bad for a girl. Roxy was really impressed. I told her originally that I was only going to take the 45cm flight bag and if it hadn't been for my big folder of maps and documents for the holidays, and my bike helmet and cycling gear taking up so much space I probably would have gotten away with it. And to think I took some clothes and pair of shoes out at the last minute. Oh well, it will be interesting to see whether I would have needed them, and if I end having to buy more clothes out of necessity and not just because I fancy them.

The flight to Auckland was great - what a fabulous morning for flying - clear blue sky and thankfully that strong wind that was gusting around the house at 4am had dropped. A fantastic sunrise and just as you settle in to the flight, it is over. All you get is a tub of water to drink and a lolly as you prepare to land. Touch down was smooth and because there were only nine people on the flight, baggage claiming was speedy and hassle-free. Here's hoping the rest of the trip goes as smoothly.

I bussed into the city centre - $15 on the shuttle and then caught a bus to Parnell. I asked the bus driver for directions but he wasn't very helpful and I ended up getting off the bus miles from where I needed to be. So, time to try out the wizardry and gadgets. Aha!! No maps. Where the hell are they? And worse than that - Where the hell am I? Well actually standing outside Trelise Cooper's shop in Newmarket. A check in at the local BP servo and instructions from the young Indian lad behind the counter, a quick loo stop and a warm mochacino and I learnt that it would be a twenty minute walk to the hotel. Thank goodness for wheels on my suitcase. Shame about the choice of high heel shoes though, but, never mind, good practice for what's ahead of me. But more of a worry is what the hell has happened to my maps - so much for hi-tech.

I made it to the hotel by 10am and was quite surprised, but very pleased to be able to check in straight away - remember the days when you couldn't check in till 2pm at the earliest. After finding my room I decided to go up to the restaurant on the 3rd floor for a coffee and perhaps a muffin for breakfast, but too late for breakfast so back to my room for the freebie coffee.

Then it was time to try out the computer, try and find the maps on my phone and check that all is working properly before I get into this holiday proper-like. But this technology stuff is going to beat me I can see that. A couple of calls to Roxy and a couple to Vodafone, but no joy. I did discover that when I put the old SIM card back, that the map of Auckland popped back up again. But no success with the Bluetooth connection. So I will wander down to Vodafone and hopefully there will be a nice young lad there to talk me through it all again. I need to know it is all okay before I can't speak the language.

I gave up trying to connect and decided a walk in the fresh air was what was needed. Clear the head, blow away the cobwebs, and go have a look at the village.

Well, frankly I was rather disappointed. For a start, not a lot of the shops were open, and secondly the range of shops seems much less than last time I wandered around here - that would have been with JAG at least 17 years ago. My, how time flies.

I did find one rather lovely nick-nack shop and got talking to the owner about travelling. She travelled around Egypt on her own and said that I will just love being in Italy on my own. She even suggested that if I have time when I come back to call in and let her know how I got on. How friendly. Is that how the rest of my travels are going to be?

First up there was that ever so chatty old lady at the Downtown bus stop. In the 15 minutes I waited for the bus I got her whole life history. she was adopted, never married, had four boyfriends and was a dancer. She was quite lovely, which belied her looks, she was scruffy and looked a wee bit like a homeless person, but on talking to her she was incredibly well spoken, English and quite quite educated. Perhaps that is what people discover when they get to know me - that behind this old, sad, lonely face is a really kind and caring and incredibly sensitive person.

I wandered up and down Parnell Road before choosing a place to have lunch. Nice little cafe where people were sitting with their laptops and notebooks taking advantage of 'free' network connection. Was it wi-fi? I sat and wrote most of this diary note while enjoying a bowl of steaming hot Kumara and Vege Soup with a slice of focaccia bread. Very delicious and certainly warmed the body. It is freezing cold outside and I really had to resist the temptation to buy a scarf and gloves - I am, after all, going into summer and don't need to carry them all the way to Europe.

I decided to treat myself to a good coffee as well and had a Lemon Thimble. that was the cutest little tart filled with lemon curd. there was a chocolate choice as well, but I thought the lemon would be a better choice seeing as I am on my way to Italy. I am sure I will get more than my share of chocolate along the way and I am not convinced that cycling 30 kms a day will be enough to counteract all the calories. I do want to come home looking better than I left!!!

Walked back to the hotel, had another try at connecting to the internet - perhaps I should have tried the free connection at the cafe - still no go and the help desk at Vodafone aren't helpful on a holiday weekend. You guessed it, technicians don't work on holidays. Well what a fat lot of good that is to me. Oh well, will just have to go to Vodafone in the city in the morning.

After a "nana nap" and a final fix of Home and Away I went up to the 3rd floor for dinner at Jimmy's Kiwi Kitchen. I was the only person in the restaurant which isn't a good way to start a holiday. You ask yourself - is the food okay. But I guess that because the hotel is almost empty and it is the last day of the holiday weekend it isn't too bad an omen.

I chose the lamb shanks and mash with coleslaw. It was delicious - the meat so tender it just fell off the bone, the mash very smooth and creamy and the coleslaw was quite different actually. It also was very creamy, not spicy or vinegary, and I don't think it was sour cream either. Hard to tell what it was, but I really enjoyed the meal, and opted to have a dessert as well. What the heck, I am on holiday, so it was a slice of baked cheesecake with passion fruit and fruit salad. Two glasses of house red - Corbans Shiraz- and a long chat with the waitress and then it was back to my room. I do hope the rest of my holiday is a bit more exciting than this. I guess the crux is that I just don't really like Auckland, so I didn't feel inspired to go out and investigate it, and I certainly wouldn't want to wander around at night on my own. I sure hope I don't feel like this in Italy, or else I won't get to see anything.

A long phone call from Rodney just as I was dropping off to sleep. Why does he always make me feel so bad, so lost, so lonely? I really do wish he was coming with me, but everything indicates that I will have a better time without him. I will do what I want, when I want, etc etc, - you know the drill. But I feel such a failure. Here I am, about to embark on an amazing holiday on my own, and I am feeling a failure!!!

I did ask him just one last time to tell me what I did that was so wrong, why such a magic marriage ended so disastrously and all he could say, as he's been saying all along - "you are you and I am me" What the hell that means I don't really know, but he did allude to the fact that I, in fact, tried too hard. He did also say that he had tried to contact Nancy M-H again as he was feeling bad but she was too busy to see him. He suggested that he needed a 'Life Coach" and I asked if we could both go to one when I got back from Italy and maybe that would help us sort out what we needed to do together, because I would do whatever it takes to get back on track, and his to that was - "what about me Heather - have you ever thought about what I need."

Is that it? Is that what I did wrong? Did I always just focus on me? I didn't think I did, I thought I always always always put him first, but perhaps I didn't really. Perhaps I was a ME, MYSELF and I person without really being aware of it. Perhaps I was selfishly trying to mould him to fit my own agenda. But I think I took from that comment that I will never get him back. I guess I have known that all along. I know I have written it heaps of times in my diary, but I hate being a failure, I hate being alone, I hate being a statistic. I really wanted to be part of that small group of people who made second marriages work. I know I enjoyed every second of every day that I was his wife and every second I was in his company. And I know I longed for the day we could retire and spend each and every day together, and how hard I worked putting things in place so that that would happen - rental properties, investments and superannuation etc.

But, now it is all over. I will go on this holiday and Italy will be the making of me. It will teach me that I am okay, I can survive without him, I can enjoy my life without him and to top it off I will be going to a part of the world that my dad really enjoyed and so wanted to revisit. I do so wish that he was still around to share it with me, but I know in my heart that he will be looking down from up there, keeping an eye on me and guiding me along the way. It's a shame that I couldn't get more specific details about where exactly he had been, but I will be content knowing that I am somewhere close. If I get this dammed internet going I will do a search on Jay Force. I didn't know until Mel brought his army records to me over the weekend, that he was even part of Jay Force. All I had ever known was that he was in the 22nd Batallion.

Anyway it is now time to get up and get going - I started this yesterday, but is now 8am Tuesday. Best I get moving, I only have until 2pm to get my phone sorted out.