EN FRANCE

I'm on the train from Cousin Trish's town of Nanteuil on the edges of Paris and Champagne and I'm heading to Gare d L'est, then to wander around the Seine for the day.

It's been such a chilled couple of days with Trish and Terry.  Being with them in the 4 storied place made from the local rocks, also used to make millstones. Light, airy, solid. They've done up the top floor as an independent unit. The bottom is the cellars. We sleep on the 3rd and the buzz of kitchen-life happens on ground level.

The garden is full of produce. A big old cherry tree has delivered it's harvest, apples out now, as are quinces and walnuts, plus pumpkins and greens. And the sweetest thing I've ever seen, a plant the size of a tomato bush delivering 'chinese lanterns',  beautiful orange poppy-coloured lanterns. Inside is one tiny tomato  that tastes something between a tomato and mandarin.

Cuz makes bread, quince jelly, and after our trip to the supermarket all manner of wonderful dishes, washed down with various rouge or in my case, Rose.

We take a drive up river along the deep jade Marne, all surrounded by trees in their autumn splendour. The sloping Hills of champagne grapes are turning yellow in neat wavy lines. Little villages dot the landscape.

Here we see animals. Contented cows eating juicy green grass and a couple of donkeys.

Along the river are barrages, lochs, with boat traffic including long barges that are peoples homes.

Cuz is an opera singer, sometimes doing gigs, sometimes doing other interesting collaborations like with harp, didgeridoo and voice. Mostly the bread and butter is giving voice or piano lessons to private students, including to the very very rich. She even taught the wife of the Director of Jean De Florette and Manon De Source.

On Saturday we went for a drive to Crotte where we visited a well and old communal wash-house where women would once of scrubbed their clothes on the sloping sides, and rinsed them in the spring-fed pool. We also stopped by a crumbling old church that looked over the well-cultivated  alluvial plains of the River Marne.

On Sunday we visited Jouarre and a Gallo-Romano church. That had lived and died and lived and died, so many times. And now a small group of Benedictine Nuns are buying it back for the church.

We climbed the church tower and within one of its porticoes was a century by century since 700s account of this church, held together by a thread of strong women, aNd occasionally real enlightenment. But more often it was destroyed or taken away. The more recent being after the French Revolution, the secularisation of France in 1903 and 2 world wars. It seemed fitting to buy some jam or books and make a contribution back to their efforts.

Today I've been out and about in Paris, being a real tourist:  Ile De la cite, Pont Neuf and many locks????, Notre Dame from the Inside and Out, Mont Matre up by funicular, around the over-cooked tourist precinct around Sacreceour. Then down again by a more interesting route. Catching more metros, now in the Jardine design Tuileries near the Louvre in the early evening light. I like the metal chairs they have all along the avenues and fountains for people to grab and arrange how they want.

Back home now.

Day 3 - in Paris
Im not catching the plane out of Paris, France, Europe until tonight. I know the next 48 hrs or so are going to be travelling, not arriving in Bankok until 12.30am on Thursday morning and having 6 hrs to kill at Dubai Airport, with time changes etc, so I'm just going to go with the flow.

I sleep in, pack my bags, have brekky with Trish and Terry and then Trish takes me to the station to catch the 11.20 am.

I put my bags into lockers at Gare Du Nord and then hang out at Cafe Du Nord having a salad lunch with wine.

I then take the metro to visit musee d'orsay.  This is the hub for the impressionists and beyond. Because of my walking stick I am taken to a quick entry place.

Once inside I walk up to floor 5 directly into the Renoir's, Cezanne, Sisley,  Pissarro. Manet.

These guys loved light and the play of light on the environment.  They used newly created varieties of Paint in the late 1800s. What was also a departure from painting nobility to painting the everyday, the people, everyday people, rural landscapes, gardens, cathedrals and lillyponds in certain times of the day in certain seasons.  Their painting techniques were to give an impression, using a revolutionary approach that broke away from realism and neo-classicism.

I just love it. I can get lost in it. It uplifts the spirit with colour and luminosity. I love those olivey landscapes in particular.  (see Fb for pix).

Downstairs were the neo-impressionists that built on the impressionists but played much more with technique, colour, and emotion. Think of Van Gogh for the latter and the pointalists like Seurat for the former. Can't help thinking that pointalism is akin to the beginnings of photography and newspaper printing using pixels to create impressions.

I also saw some Art Nouveau which was an artform absorbed into daily life. This lives on in the Metro today, the signage and the metal work. At the musee there were examples of beds, tables, dressers, lamps, bowls, trays. Always in love with the curve and almost a Japanese sense of detail juxtaposed with space.

Headed off on the Metro, back to Gare Du Nord. Collected bags and headed to Airport on RER line B. I've got my head around Paris transport. I'm impressed! Even if I missed a sardine packed Metro during peak hour, they came every 2 mins, so I just waited for a less crowded one.

now an airhead in Dubai killing those 6 hours.

GOODBYE FLORENCE

It was the City of Dreams. It is the City of Dreams. It will stay in my heart as the City of Dreams. It will always have a very special place in my heart and soul.

It opens me up and allows me greenlights that get stymied in Oz. It says yes to passion. It says yes to experimentation. It says yes to the arts. It embraces imperfection amongst its creative idealism.

Fiorenza is Nikki's middle name. That's how much it meant to me, and surprisingly, still means to me. If Nikki, Andy and their baby have a chance to come here, it may not mean the same, but I would like to think it meant something. Afterall the arts is the path they have both followed.

This morning I got up, packed my bags, popped up onto the terrace for a last peek.  Then headed off to somewhere I'd not been before, called Giardini Di Bardini. It's connected to Boboli but far more interesting. Also with panoramic views. Love that combo - cosy places and magnificent views.

An Austrian Artist called Helga....had sculptures of huge heads dotted around the gardens, that more wild and less formal than Boboli. I also went to an Exhibition in there of modern art, drawn in by a poster, of a 1928 painting.

Back home. Had some lunch. Then Enrico carried my bag down the 100 steps to the street. Said our goodbyes. Really enjoyed staying there and enjoyed his company. Forza Viola! (Go Firenze)

I walk down Via Rincoli to the Gelateria recommended by Rosie and Lou. It's Sicilian icecream! I choose Sicilian oranges and Citrus chocolate.

I thing bugger the Firenze Card. It probably wasn't worth it. Just made me cram to begin with, trying to do more than I could manage. I don't think I got my moneys worth for it. It might have saved a bit of time in queues but not that much.

Taking my bags to the station, I think where the bloody hell am I going to get any information? A kiosk had a sign up saying "No tickets, No information" so I went their to see where I could get information.

He directed me to the ticket office as Santa Maria Novella some distance away with difficult roads to cross when lugging bags.

I asked there where I could get a bus to the airport. I also asked why the tourist info service was not in the station and whether it would be in future. They shook their heads. I said that MacDonald's was the only place that had Welcome to Florence with a map. No more help than that - not "here s the Tourist Information Office" on that map. They shook their heads, and then the Signora said "how should I put it? MacDonald's is richer than the Commune Di Firenze. " and I realise every day more and more that that is the way of the world.

I found the bus station. I'm now at the airport and they are threatening to put me on a later flight to Paris 'because it's windy'.  I retorted with disbelief 'because you call this windy? (hardly a light breeze) it's not as if it's a hot air balloon!'  cheeky me!!!!!

 

FLORENCE

When I arrived in Florence yesterday afternoon, it was like arriving home.

Yes things had changed. MacDonald's "Welcome to Florence" was the only map in site. Under the station was a shopping precinct with the goo gaa gaa ohh la la of ritzy glitzy brand names.

But in some ways it was more straightforward. The streets were free of cars other than service vehicles, bicycles or tiny electric cars. Otherwise it was all free for pedestrians.

I walked straight up to Santa Maria del Fiore, passed the Baptistery and I felt my heart expanding in awe. So beautiful in their majesty.

I used to find my centre by walking down the centre of the marble patterned floor, like a line in space. Because above is the vaulted ceiling, full of space, centred, round, balanced and beautiful.

I used to walk to Michelangelos pieta but it has been moved to a new museum opening at the end of the month. But I could walk under its massive dome. It's like being inside a mountain, awesome because it was designed and engineered and built and adorned by people, people who believed anything was possible.  While it's religious in purpose it's also testimony to 'mankind' 'kindmen' and women.

I lit a candle, and wondered down Palazzo Vecchio, Piazza Signoria and David, and Perseus (the favourite pick up place), then onto via Vinegia where I used to visit my friends. They were a very expansive household of artisans, where everyone was welcome. Good food, good discussions and music too.

Onto Santa Croce where I used to work in the Goldshop, selling silver, Then along via tintorini where the dyers used to work, over the Ponte Vecchio, where my friends sold their craft,  to Santa Spirito where I also used to live. I hung out there.in the more rustic end of town and.drank pino grigio until I heard from Enrico my Airbnb host.

I finally found Via dei Cerchi 1 and Enrico called out from the 4th floor to come up.  So I did, yes I did. Infact where I'm sleeping is the 5th floor and on the 6th is the terrace.

From the terrace you literally are right next to Palazzo Vecchio and a stones throw from Santa Maria del Fiore and Giotto's Tower.

The house must be 500 years old at least, when the average size of adults was that of a 12 year old.

Enricos toilet is the smallest I've ever been in, in my life, less room for the knees than a Jetstar Flight. Walls and ceilings painted red. And if you stand up straight you'll bump your head on the ceiling. Kitchen also red with very low light. Bathroom you have to almost squat down to go through the door. And the shower is tiny but at least there is a shower. Most houses didn't have them when I was here in 76-77- just the bidet and I used public showers from time to time.

But my room has high ceilings and shutters. Shutters are the best. They're called Persiane in Italian and it's Enricos specialises in painting.them for a living, besides the Airbnb business. He was born in Fiesole, the mountain I hope to visit tomorrow.

I was so happy and excited about being back in Florence that I could hardly sleep last night.

I lazed around in the morning, then wandered off to Palazzo Vecchio. Waiting in the queue to get my ticket I saw a Firenze Card promotion: 72 hours, access all museums, transport, and WIFI. Cost? 72 Euros.

That's expensive compared to Roma Pass for 35Euros for 3 days, but... could be worth it? Vivi, I tell myself, when you lived here you never went inside these places - now is your chance! Ok bread and water for lunch, just do It!

However unlike the Roma Card you also have to line up to get a ticket with the card, supposedly for everything you go to. But I didn't know this after I'd climbed the stairs, (no walking stick - i forgot it) and was told to go down and get a ticket. I was angry that they didn't explain anything to me when they sold me the ticket. I was even angrier when they kept me waiting while they fart-arsed around for the 2nd time. I demanded service - i said in Italian, you didn't explain anything to me, you didn't explain about the tickets, you didn't explain about the wifi. When they were too busy to serve me again I demanded a refund, which they refused me. Finally I had to accept it and one girl started to explain and help. I don't get angry that often but Italian is the best for getting it off your chest.

I let off all remaining anger by climbing the almost 300 steps to the top of the tower at Palazzo Vecchio. These guys just swiped the card - and voila. Amazing views from.the top including Enricos terrace.

As I came down I visited the Museum and I have some great pictures up.on Facebook. Vasari painted a lot of the ceilings and walls with classical themes. All this for Cosimo Di Medici 1.  He had no trouble amassing power but also being a patron of the arts.

The main salon had huge huge huge paintings largely of bloody battles with Pisa.

With my Firenze Card I was keen to see all paid exhibitions, so visited another called 'Principe dei Sogni' - Prince of Dreams, focussing o. The restoration of 20 panels of huge tapestries, depicting the life of Joseph. art using fabrics.

Another Exhibition was called Magnificent and was telling the story of the Rennaissance in Florence via animations of the works of Botticelli, Leonardo, Da Vinci, Donatello etc projected on a huge scale in a vaulted room. Art using technology.

Eat my bread roll under Perseus  but all people are in either couples or families.

And now.... Drum Roll.... The Uffizzi. Yes I get in relatively easily. There are lots of people but you can move and you can see. Even got a full view of Botticelli's Spring and Venus. So many other artists: Michelangelo. Bronzino, Ghirlandaio, da Vinci, della Francesca, Caravaggiio.  Some were ones I knew from our walls growing up or cards that Mary Martin had collected from The Medici Society in the 40s and 50s. There is an overwhelming amount - on the ceiling, on the walls, and sculptures as well.  I just let the expression of the paintings talk to me, and if they had 'it', then I'd stop and stay a while. Photos will be on FB.

Wow, Uffizzi. I did it! Been there, done that! What next? Broom broom, walk walk, Pitti Palace to Bobboli Garden. Yes used to love going there. Used to be free. Italians used it. Now only a handful of tourists.

I went to 2 Exhibitions inside Pitti. Had never been inside before. A costume Exhibition - wow. And an exhibition of Modern Art. Modern Art starts in the 1700 for these guys!

But as we got into the 1800s I started seeing similarities with Australian art around the same period - is it Stretton, McCubbin - pastoral scenes, bush scenes. Gradually you get to see more ordinary people and daily life, and then comes more awareness of light, and then print and colour, and then forms. And more female artists.

By this time I'm buggered. I stretch my back. Then wander over to Santa Spirito thinking I'll find Minestrone for a good price. I find a really cosy Trattoria and enjoy my gnocchi with porcini mushrooms.

I wander home. I don't care if I get lost. It's all beautiful. And before long I find Via dei Cerchi,  but first let me try the Gelato place Enrico recommends in Via Tavolini. Well.the girl serving me is Sicilian from Randazzo where I was 2 weeks ago. She's blown away. She loves Florence and Sicily. Her name is Samoa. She's so excited by my story too and impressed that I'm.doing this on.my own. Our whole conversation was in Italian.  If I was here for longer I'd get so good.

ALLORA

ROMA

Which ever way you look in this part of Rome there is something grand, something ancient or something beautiful.

These precincts have been cleared of cars to make way for pedestrians

My.leg hurts like buggery and I've just walked in a circle looking for Trevi Fountain but on the way I have passed so many extraordinary buildings, wide open piazzas and narrow little roads with shops selling the most elegant of fashions. Nikki would love it.

I have stopped at a not so cheap restaurant to give my leg a break and to quell my hunger. Lasagne, salad and wine.

Already I have been to the Collosseum this morning. Met some lovely people at Airbnb, a Hungarian man and a Mexican girl with a scriptwriting background here in Rome for the launch of her friends film. So we had a really nice extended chatty breakfast. It was so worth it. I so miss company.

It was so easy to catch the metro to Collosseum and with my Roma Pass I could skip to queue and get in more quickly. I hired an audio guide which partially worked.

In essence The Collosseum was the Entertainment Centre of the day. Built from 72AD just a few years before Vesuvius errupted, the entertainment was largely about Gladiators fighting wild animals. Mostly Slaves but occasionally free men, while looked on by the nobles and senators of the day in the best seats, the plebs in the higher seats and the women in the farthest corners.

Somehow around 500AD it all started  to decline and much later the materials were used to build the monuments of the time, such as St Peters Cathedral.

I continued past the Collosseum up Pallastrine Hill and down into the Roman Forum.  I was grateful for the fountains running fresh drinkable water, so I could fill up the Collosseum foldaway drinking bottle that Rosie gave me.  I couldn't find any in the shops and wonder if Coca-Cola won the day again.

The Roman Forum was larger than I had the capability to explore. I didn't go up, I only went down, but found a lovely place that honoured physicians of the day (ties in with the book I'm reading - The Physician' and a natural spring.

My head spins trying to make sense of it all. All over Europe are the vestiges of Roman dominion, of their cleverness with Roads and Aquaducts and equally their use of slaves for work, for building and entertainment.

A European history. And 2000 years ago in Australia a people who'd lived in a similar way for over 40,000 years without the need to overpower others, to make their stamps with daunting structures, but who found an elaborate system for living sustainably on the driest continent on the planet.

At this point I struck up a conversation with the couple sitting next to me at the restaurant, Drew's from Scotland and Carla from Chile. Drew thought I was Italian so he felt free to be giving his thoughts and opinions and when he found out I spoke English he felt embarrassed for swearing. Anyway it was Carlas birthday so it was nice to celebrate with them for that mini-time.

I went to visit Trevi Fountain but it's under repairs so no water. However we could see behind the see-through fence. Very beautiful.

From there I walked up through a Spanish quarter to Villa Borghese, formal parklands that also contain the Museum and Art Gallery of Villa Borghese.

My Roma Pass got me in for free. That's 13Euros for this plus 13Euros for Collosseum plus Roman Forum plus any public transport. Getting so worth it.

Anyway the Gallery. Bellini, sculptor in marble extraordinaire! Creates fine detail and movement and emotion.

And Carravaggio. A few of them including self-portrait as Bacchus, rather green looking. And Dads favourite, the boy with the fruit. Dried leaves and blemished fruit, although it's subtle. Other very moving ones too.

I loved the Florentine artists. You can always tell them from the lightness, softness and colour, those gentle expressions and warm tones of skin. They tend to tell religious stories but using models of the characters of the day. It's a nice prelude to what lies ahead.

Inbetween the sculptures and paintings were sculptures of haute couture, amazing clothes from leather, metal and other fabrics that were works of art and beauty. Interesting juxtapositioning.

Leaving Villa Borghese it started to rain.  My leg and back were so sore. My phone battery was flat. And I didn't know where I was.

I kept walking around the perimeter until I saw a busstop. With my Roma Pass it won't hurt to jump on. It will keep me dry. And with a bit of luck it will take me to a Metro stop.

I jumped on a bus that was put on for a Film Festival but it didn't matter, I got to a Metro.

From the Metro I could get home, get dry, charge my phone, read my kindle, wash clothes, make dinner and finish my blog.

😄

DAY 2 IN ROMA

I took some salutary advice and spent the morning in bed. It was raining anyway so it was a cosy thing to do.

I had intended to get up early to go to St Peters  and the Sistine Chapel both in the Vatican. But with stories of huge crowds, the rain and the strain on my leg, I thought to spend the time looking on line from my bed in Rome. It begs the question 'why travel anywhere when you can do it virtually? '

But on FB Lizzy Mackie said Piazza Navona was beautiful, close to old Rome and the Ghettos. And good for Pizza.

So I did my research on Wifi before leaving the flat. Said Metro to Collosseum then 87 bus. So I walked out thinking I was prepared but left my walking stick behind. Ok I thought, if I'm smart with transport I can use buses and Metro with my Roma Pass.

Except by the time I got to Piazza Navona I had somehow lost my passcard. Schiessen.

Piazza Navona was spacious and alive, with buskers everywhere, African Street vendors and with 3 prominent fountains.

One was of the 4 major rivers represented with marble sculptures of strong and sensuous bodies, with pigeons and seagulls perching on their heads.

I had pizza on my mind but probably made yet another unsound choice. I thought I could sit down and still look at the Piazza, but those restaurants are designed for tourists and charge exorbitantly. So even for Pizza Margarita and a glass of wine it was 18euros. That pizza not worth the Piazza.

The trouble is they advertise their menu with prices but in small writing, and then each restaurant has its spruikers on the street. How long will it take for me to wise up?

But as I wandered off towards the Ghetto  I picked up a leaflet about a Leonardo exhibition close by. Similar to the one I went to in Syracuse but these were larger reconstructions, all in wood. The bicycle, the helicopter, the sawmill, the printing press, and many more, along with His designs which he was unable to materialise at the time.

I realised I couldn't walk far. Without my Roma Pass I wondered if I'd be able to use the same bar code on the packet. I jumped on a bus bound for Tiburtina.  Nobody seems to show tickets and drivers don't ask. I waved the barcode and took the trip. It was about 5ish when I arrived back to the station. Then I thought 'i wonder if this barcode will work on the Metro. I really want to go to St Peters, even if it's just to stand outside.

I limped to the Metro, waved the barcode, but it didn't open the barrier. Oh bugger, so I brought a 100min ticket for 1,5 E and went anyway. A sardine experience and without the stick I don't get a seat

I discover St Peters is not right next to the station, unlike Collosseum. I walk down a broad Street straight into the Vatican.

What a place - light and spacious. I see the place where the Pope stands to address the masses, that we often see on TV. But it doesn't capture the feel of the place. It's very impressive. I was there such a short time, thinking I needed to get back before my 100 minutes was up.

Back home I met 2 lots of interesting people and had an evening conversing in Italian. Maria and her husband are from Agrigento in Sicily, spending a few days in Rome with friends. And Luca is from Padua, working for an extra 2 weeks in Rome. We had a real exchange talking about vegetables. raddicchio is not radish but rather a red cabbage. Verza is the word for green cabbage. This island in Venice has the best artichokes etc etc. He said if I couldn't sleep I could knock on his door and we could continue the conversation. Naturally this made it hard to sleep.

But now on the train to Firenze, with food prepared by Maria - spinach empanada and pizza pomodoro.

Reflections on Italy 38 years later

The first time I came to Italy was in 1974!  It was with Mum and Dad. Their first big holiday ever. And at the last minute they decided to take me along so they could keep an eye on me.

Rather than leave this naughty 16-17 year old in Tasi  where she'd had an affair with an American drug dealer wanted by the FBI and also the Tasmanian Drug Squad.

But while Mum and Dad visited archaeological sites, museums and art galleries, I also had another life - with boys.

So in Firenze Italy I met Roberto, an anarchist and actor who was wanted by the Police for throwing a Molotov Cocktail in a demonstration. He introduced me to the others in his household. There was Pasquale and Giorgio and Gianlucca and Mario. All were artists or artisans, trying to eek a living by selling their wares on the Ponte Vecchio. All were into cooking and music. And all were a shade between pink and red as far as politics went.

I was in seventh heaven. In Italy it was considered normal  and expected to have a political opinion as one part if ordinary life. Unlike Australia, where families like mine were unacceptable.

I suppose it was only 20 years previously that the partigiani had defeated the fascists and Germans in the mountains.

Their Clubs, much like the RSL where old soldiers could meet up with each other, drink, eat, reminisce,  play bingo and be in for a meat raffle.

I returned to Italy many times after coming again to Europe in 1976-77.

Between fruit-picking in France  Nannying in Spain, or working various jobs in London, I always came back to Florence.

I lived and worked in various places there.  I stayed sometimes in Via Vinegia 3 where I'd first met Roberto. Now I was meeting a wider crowd with girls who discussed feminism with the men. I never heard of feminism being a men's issue before. But here in 1976 it was. Mario said when I tried to clear the table of plates, "Vivi sit down. Why you not a feminista eh?". Infact the boys did all the cooking.

There was a big low table with cushions all around and often in to 12-14 people around it, enjoying food and then playing music after or having animated discussions.

I also lived in Via del Corso with an Iranian architect, near Santa Spirito with other Iranians, and near il Duomo Di Santa Maria del Fiore.

I sold silver in a Goldshop near Santa Croce, that was visited by busloads of American tourists.I gave out leaflets for a discotheque called the Red Garter mainly frequented by busloads of young people from Contiki Expeditions.

I also saved enough from my fruit-picking to do a  6 week art course at the Scuola Di Lorenzo Di Medici. It was the best time of my life.

Because I tapped into something in that place, a well of something, a place where I felt at home in my soul. Perhaps it's about surrounding oneself with beauty. The soft beauty and light of the natural surroundings. Then the beauty of what people have created because they combined art with science with architecture with poetry with humour and endless possibilities.

Yes wealth had a lot to do with it. But it's what they chose to do with wealth - to support artists in the broadest sense, to create and to inspire.

I drew from a model. I compared myself to others and felt inadequate until I had a breakthrough and developed my own distinctive style, a little quirky and fun. My professor who also taught at the Academy of Arte, said keep drawing every day whether you have 2 kids or 10. I didn't though it's something I often thought about.

Going to the art school was like going through a portal. First through San Lorenzo Market, then through a door that had a courtyard and rooms off the side that contained Michaelangelos Dawn and Dusk. Up narrow stairs, past music lessons and right up into the attic, where our studio was. In a 500 year old building.

The time was the 70s. Young people had long hair, wore jeans and bare feet and congregated together for music and fun. We were free of multinationals dictating the terms and conditions of our lives.

In Florence there was a phenomenon known as Indiani Metropolitani. Young people would spring up together spontaneously and hold hands to encircle something, run around in circles and chant ee ii ee ii ee ii ee ii ah. It might be a car waiting at a light or the entire Duomo. Anyone could join. A bit like flashmob but less planned.

I spent another 10 days in Florence after visiting Jo in Egypt with Mum in 1980 when I was pregnant with Nikki. Mario was at Via Vinegia but the others were in India, having become macrobiotic and vegetarian.

So I'm in Rome now and across the road from where I'm staying is a McDonald's and on the other side a Burger King.

Maybe because of our diets we are all starting to look the same. We are far more similar with our IT lives,  Our cellphones or mobiles. That Rupert Murdoch owns Fox Channels in every country you look at. We swallow the same diet of tv.

Leaving Australia and seeing the same brands that I thought were local. Some like Streets Icecream is called something else but I recognise the logo.

Feminism took hold. Women have reaped the benefits and spend more time living and working than in the kitchen. The foods are faster foods.

Who looks after the farms now? Not only does Italy have the lowest birthrate in the world, many young people leave rural areas for the city.

Where my friends once sold things on the street, now it's Africans selling things on the street.

Once young people rode bicycles and vespers. There were more of these than anything else on the roads. Now more cars.

In train carriages everyone would talk to each other. This still happens!!! Yay! And the music in the carriages.

And I love that the Neapolitans still speak in dialect.

A few days in Rome, then Florence on Tuesday....

  ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS Of CHANGES

no older women in black (other than me)

Fewer vespers

fewer artisans

More mass production

Migrants are the new Street sellers

AMALFI COAST

Writing this on a rainy day waiting on the bus before it takes off for Praiano and then Ravello along the Amalfi Coast.

Last time I came back from Amalfi I felt I was going to drop my guts. My head and stomach were going whoosh whoosh, with every one of those hundreds of hairpin bends. My hands and feet went numb and I had to wait for 10 minutes to recover when I got off at Sorrento. 

So why do it again? I thought of taking the boat but the weather has been wild. So I've taken 2 ginger tablets and hope that works.

At Praiano..

Here I am at the bottom of 100s of steps (praise be for getting up again) but Im enjoying the solitud with just the sound of the sea pounding, and the freshness of air carrying rain.

It's a beautiful much quieter spot than Positano. Perhaps I arrived and left with the rush of Tourists at Positano. What may have been a fishing town plastered on an impossibly steep hillside, has probably given into tourism over the years. It colours a place. It is colourful. It says walk here, drink and eat here and buy me. Admire my beauty.

And I did. I found a nice place to eat my panini and I brought a colourful cotton shirt from a place where I fell in love with most of the clothes.

But Praiano feels a step back from that. It's slower, quieter. Just below the road is a church with what feels like an islamically inspired dome, such is the colour and geometry of its design, though bold.

Inside the floor is ceramic tiles with birds and sun's and olives. It feels like it's been done in modern times, giving the church some zest for current living and life. It says 'rejoice'.

The way up the steps I managed more easily than I expected,  except that it started to rain, and rain hard.  I had my rain gear in the rucksack but by the time I got on my poncho and struggled getting on my green over-gumboots, and sheltering my bag under the umbrella, the steps has turned into a waterfall.  I felt prepared but wet all the same.

The umbrella blew inside out and it teamed with rain as I got to the main road. I asked Tourist Info for another  timetable and she said there's one u 15mins at Stop 7 100 metres down the road.

So there I am walking in the wind and rain on a footpathless narrow road with traffic in both directions. And there is no stop 7. I hail a Sita bus at what looks to be a busstop but it just goes straight by.

Would it have stopped if I were young and blond I ask myself, feeling decidedly invisible, yet totally drenched. Working my way back uphill in the rain, I remembered a Cafe Bar. I shook the rain off and joined the sodden people inside.

I also enjoyed some lunch coffee and WIFI. Venturing back to Bus Stop 6, I just missed another bus. But met some gentle Americans while we waited over 30mins. They gave me a more fuller picture of Praiano and the pedestrian streets that run parallel..

Instead of going back defeated, I decided to head on to Ravello. And that's where I am now at the busstop at Amalfi.
....

Going to Ravello was am absolute treat even if misty. It's the Eyrie position. Up in the hills looking down along the coast (in the mist).

The bus trip up was a treat as we went into ravines where every inch of land was used for growing things, mainly vines. Lots of terraces.

We went through a medieval town called Scala. Ravello had such a hill top town feel to it, a large piazza. A church. It promoted itself as a musical town. There were concerts throughout the year, just not tonight.

I grabbed a hot chocolate in a Cafe which waz just like hot liquid chocolate.

Then went into an old fortressy type of place that advertised itself as a Garden. Indeed it was. I used my last 5% of battery taking photos before it died.

It was an old Sicilian-Arabic-Norman style complex with a Romantic style garden on the top of a hill overlooking the coast. De-lish! Very uplifting to be there. Perhaps it's easier to get to Via the Napoli-salerno Freeman, than the winding Amalfi  Coast too.

However I made sure I always had front seats  just behind the driver even if it meant holding my place in the queue for 20-30 even 50 minutes at Amalfi.  I also took ginger tablets all day.

Now I'm back home in Sorrento waiting for my phone to recharge before I go out for minestrone and WIFI.

POMPEII

(PROVISO: I'm writing this without having had a guide or a book to read, and with limited access to internet.)

Imagine a bustling thriving city 2000 years ago with 11,000 people, roads for chariots, side walk food vendors, drinking fountains at regular intervals, homes for the rich, homes for the plebs, and who knows what for the slaves.

Temple of Apollo, forums, odions, amphitheatres, Gladiator pitches, and all the rest that comes with the Romans. This in the central part of town and some other places.

Imagine symmetrical gardens in courtyards, and vineyards that produced enough for the population and to be exported.

Beautiful big clay urns for carrying water or wine.

And somewhere, I don't know where, were the brothels with a full and bawdy menu.

All this developed from  around 300 BC. And in 79AD people were becoming familiar with regular earthquakes until on 24 August that year Vesuvius blew her top, releasing deadly gasses that would suffocate people and then cover them and their town with ash.

A writer in another town whose brother was in Pompei wrote about it. So there were records and it was known that there was a buried town underground, but work to excavate did start in proper until the 1860s.

Archaeologists worked painstakingly to remove 3-6 metres of settled ash and dirt and reveal the story of this town underneath. It's still being uncovered and restored.

The difference between Akrotiri on Santorini and this is that so many people died on site at Pompei. As archaeologists dug they found the now empty moulds of where people had been, in the very position they had been struggling at the time of their deaths.

Casts have been made from these hollows and have been exhibited around the world.

As for my story of going to Pompeii it was a little ridiculous. Crowding into a train from Sorrento, standing. Remembering Rosie's and Lous advice 'dont buy a ticket until you're inside the complex' and take a guide. Guides are advertising themselves along the ticket queue. A man who I don't like the sound of, and a woman who I do. I ask how it works - she says buy your ticket and join those people over there. We are leaving pronto.

When I get the ticket I found they had gone. Oh well, I thought, they can't be far away. So I went in and couldn't find them anywhere. Then I realised everyone had a map but I didn't. I asked another English  speaking guide if I could join her but she said it was a private tour.

So I just thought I will follow my nose. And when I came to a point of interest I'd eavesdrop on guides. So I got a bit of Italian, a bit of French and sometimes English.

Later I realised I did have a map in a tourist brochure and I asked a German man where I was. From here I could navigate.

So that is how I made my way around Pompei for about 5 hours. And yes, my leg was very sore.

I'm pleased I brought a packed lunch and that I could fill up the fordable waterbottle Rosie gave me at the many drinking fountains around Pompeii.

Again standing on the  Circumvesuvio Train on the 12 stops home. I charged my phone and kindle and then went out for dinner and WIFI, where I spent a small fortune considering I'd made my own breakfast and lunch.

Bo.