Tuesday, February 20, 2024

Exhaustion

Well this was a new experience.  It was a level of exhaustion I hadn't experienced before.  I had done all nighters before (for both work and fun), I had been through physical challenges in the past that meant a lack of sleep... but this?  This was an ongoing level of hammering that was wearing away at my resistance.  The first few nights had been fine, with baby still sleeping even if for a shorter period through the night.  Now, we experiencing him waking every few hours.

He was just a baby.  I couldn't blame him for any of this.  It was just a part of the natural cycle of things.  Still, it did mean that I was completely and utterly shattered during the days.  The paternity leave entitlements in Hong Kong were far from generous, so I also found myself in the unenviable position of having to go to work each day after having spent most of the evening feeding and soothing the crying child.
When I managed to calm him.  To put him to bed.  That feeling of success and satisfaction was hard to beat.  Yet it was probably just as much to do with relief at knowing I could get a couple of hours of extra sleep.

Friday, January 19, 2024

A new arrival

I had restless night.

It was nothing compared to what Veronica was going through, but I still felt exhausted.  My friend Christoph had been kind enough to let me crash at his place close to the hospital, so I tried to sleep.  I put the phone next to my head and closed my eyes.  I expected to be woken with a call, but nothing came.  After a few hours of sleep, I woke up and made my way back to the hospital.  Even without the call, I preferred to be there with Veronica.

At the hospital, there was still no major change.  Veronica had barely slept and was still waiting.  I sat in the same cafe downstairs and kept waiting until the call finally came that she was being moved into the delivery ward and that I could finally join her.  I packed up my things and moved up quickly to the private room where she had been moved in anticipation of the labour starting.

Inside the labour room, we were still waiting.  Veronica paced around, the pain of the contractions still intense but with no further dilation.  A doctor had come to induce her and to break her water, but there still didn't seem to be any major progress.  I tried to comfort her as much as I could.  One of the nurses came and suggested some deep tissue massages in her lower back to help ease her pain.  Between us, we took turns massaging her back to try to give her some relief.  The nurses left, and I was alone with her as I tried my best to comfort her through the painful contractions.  Baby had decided that the best place to rest his head was on the base of her spine , so every contraction was doubly painful.  The nurse came back to check.  A sudden flurry of activity began as the nurse declared with surprise that Veronica had gone from being barely dilated to now suddenly being fully dilated.  The baby was coming.

The nurses ushered me out of the main area and onto a seat to the side as they prepared the room for the birth.  The bed was changed and Veronica was helped into a better position.  Once ready, I was led back in to be by her side.  I took her by her hand as she began the process of labour.  Something so many people have gone through before, something so intrinsically part of who we are as humans, and yet something which is so foreign and unique an experience to the uninitiated.   
The intensity and the pain that Veronica went through was incredible to witness and to be near.  It was an emotional experience as I tried to encourage and support her as best as I could from my position to the side.  I held her hand.  I spoke as many words of support as I could think of.  I helped her count.  The nurses urged me to be vocal in my support and so I took on as much of a coaching role as I could.  It seemed apt.  I gave her timing instructions.  I helped her with her pacing.  I gave her unwavering moral support.  What more could I do?  I was deeply invested in this and yet I felt incredibly impotent and powerless through it all.  There was ultimately nothing I could really do.  This was something Veronica had to go through alone, with all of us mere bystanders hoping to be of some minor help.

The time went quickly.  It went very quickly.  From when I was ushered out and then back in, it was only forty minutes.  In that short time, it was done.  With one final push and with the firm hands of the midwife, a new life sprang into our world.  A gentle cry started, with eyes closed and in shock.  I felt a huge wave of emotion.  It was a powerful experience to have gone through.  The nurses checked Veronica, the doctor came to make sure everything was fine and to check the baby.
Then the baby was brought to his mother, placed immediately on her chest.  The warmth and the sound of her heart instantaneously soothed him.

It had been nine months.  Now we would commence the next part of our lives together.
 

Thursday, January 18, 2024

Waiting for a new arrival

The baby was coming.  It was very clear that he would be slightly earlier than expected so we needed to go the hospital.  Veronica had been experiencing some terrible nights sleep and by the morning, her contractions had started and were becoming frequent.  At each contraction, she froze in pain and had to lay down.  It was difficult to watch, with nothing I could do to help her other than to offer my support.  I grabbed our prepared bags and we made our way to the hospital.  There, Veronica was quickly admitted to the prenatal care ward.  She wasn't quite ready to be moved to the room for labour yet.  So we would have to wait.  With her being in this prenatal care ward, it meant that I could only stay during the designated visiting times. So instead, I found myself a cafe to camp myself and to wait.
I tried to do some work, to clear up as much as possible as I waited.  It was a strange time.  Full of nervousness, anticipation, and anxiety.  Through all of this, I also felt a sense of complete powerlessness.  As with Veronica's pain, there was nothing I could really do.  Even my ability to be physically close to her as she struggled with this final phase of the pregnancy was now taken from me and I was reduced to being a distant player.
I walked around the grounds of the hospital a bit.  I tried to stay calm and rational.  The fresh air helped, but I thought it best to keep my busy so I went back to the cafe and worked.  There wasn't anything else I could do, so I used this time to deal with open work matters and to close things off as much as I could before the baby's arrival.
Once the evening visiting hours arrived, I rushed back upstairs to be with Veronica.  She had been suffering but was still it seemed no where close to labour.  I waited with her.  We walked around the ward together and as I tried to provide her with as much comfort as possible.  The nurse checked her again close to when it was time for me to go.  There was still a lot of time to wait.  She told me that I should go and find somewhere to get some sleep, she even said that it wasn't time yet for me to be pacing in the hallway!  I wanted to stay close, so I called a friend who lived nearby and arranged to crash at his place.

Friday, September 08, 2023

Heavy rains

The typhoon had come and gone.  So Hong Kong was now back to normal.

Well that's what we all thought.

Instead we were all in for a big surprise.  As I prepared for bed one night, I could hear the rain outside.  It had been wet since the typhoon, so this wasn't anything out of the ordinary.  The rain was getting heavier.  I could hear the rain coming down hard.  It was still nothing out of the ordinary.  Heavy rain can be common in Hong Kong, so much so that there's a system of warnings in place at the Hong Kong Observatory to warning people when it gets too much.  I didn't think much of it as I lay in bed and closed my eyes.  I could still hear the heavy rain.  It was actually quite a soothing sound and I was soon asleep.

I woke up to the sound of rain.

I wasn't sure if I had slept.  The rain sounded as heavy as it had been when I had fallen asleep.  I wondered if it was still early or if I had only been asleep a short time.  I looked at my clock.  There was no mistake, I had slept the full night and it was the morning.  I thought that maybe it was just a coincidence that the rain had been at its heaviest when I slept and when I woke.  Strangely, in the back of my mind I did wonder whether the heavy rain had persisted through the night.

I stepped out of bed and looked out the window. 

It hadn't been a coincidence.  It had indeed rained heavily all night.  We were to find out later that this had been the heaviest rain that Hong Kong had ever experienced.  It was a once in 500 year event that had completely saturated the city and left flooding all over.  There was reports and videos of landslides, flooded buildings and general mayhem.
By mid morning, the waters had started to recede.  Veronica and I went downstairs to look for food and to investigate our surroundings more thoroughly.  Everywhere there was mess and filth.  The flooding had brought with it all the dust and dirt in the city, and caked it all over the roads and sidewalks.

At one drain, we found the remains of an early morning noodle delivery.  It must have been left in front of a restaurant by the delivery drivers only to be carried away by the flooding that came later.
As we turned the corner, we found the biggest sign yet of the true severity of this event.  The local McDonalds, the store that never closes no matter how bad the typhoon, had been shut down by the flood.  Being in the basement of the building, we could only imagine how bad the flooding downstairs had been.  Many of the shops and buildings in Hong Kong are raised a "step", which is normally more than enough to deal with the usual heavy monsoon rains.
This was a different case altogether, and the flooding had gone above that first step which meant a long and expensive clean up for many of the ground and basement stores throughout the city.

Amazingly, the resilience of this city was such that by the afternoon, I could already hear the rumbling of the trams rolling along the routes that had been flooded only hours earlier.

Saturday, September 02, 2023

Super typhoon days

It had been years since we had felt in the "typhoon mood".   There had been a few big ones since Mangkhut, but none of them had seemed to impact the city in the same way.  The shut downs that normally come with the typhoons had been short.  The coming of Typhoon Saola seemed like a return to the old days.  The observatory had been warning about it for days in the lead up, with a direct hit on Hong Kong predicted.  Everyone seemed to be awaiting its arrival with a strange nervous anticipation.  It was hitting on Friday and there seemed to be a city wide assumption and agreement that there would be no work done that day.  When the T10 was raised Thursday evening, no one was surprised and everyone was already well prepared for the Friday of work from home.  Shops had been cleared out and everyone had stocked up on the essentials for a weekend in.

The storm started to hit and hit hard.  The city was still shutdown, but it seemed to not be too bad outside.  We went out at lunch for some food and we could see some trees had already born the brunt of the winds. 
We were hungry, so we went and partook in some McDonalds.  Even with everything else is closed, McDonalds seems to somehow stay open during the worst typhoons.  I remember also eating McDonalds the last time there was such a big shutdown.
By the afternoon of the next day, it was gone and the city began the assessment of the damage done.
The worst of it hadn't lasted that long, but there was damage everywhere.  It didn't seem too serious, but trees had been felled and there was garbage and debris scattered everywhere.
What was most amazing though was that everything seemed to be restarting already.  Only a few hours had past since the warning signals had been lowered and everyone was already getting on with their lives.  Chainsaws roared everywhere as the clean up crews were busily dealing with the trees.  We had a farewell dinner planned that night for Rachel.  We had been worried it would be cancelled and yet it all still went forward without a hitch.

Tuesday, August 15, 2023

Approaching Mt Etna

The time spent at the beach in Cefalu was great.  After being confronted by Palermo, it had been a lovely respite and chance to calm down.  We were now well and truly into the second half of our trip which would be focused more on a slow relaxation.  I hired a driver to take us to our next location on the East coast of the island.  Had we had a bit more time, I think I would have liked to have hired a car myself and driven around the island, but given we weren't going to be moving too much and we wouldn't be finishing at the same spot, it seemed to make more sense to only get the car when it was needed.
The drive took us through the middle of the island.  The journey seemed to take less than two hours, and in that time I saw the landscape change dramatically.  It was an interesting journey that took us from the dry and at times almost desolate parts of the Northern part of the island, through the centre and towards more lush and fertile areas towards the East.  At the start, I couldn't help but think of back home in Australia.  There was a harshness to the landscape and a colour palette that seemed ripped from a pastoral image in country NSW.  This was an island with an incredible history as well.  For such a short journey by car, it seemed to belie the struggles and pains of those who had come and fought through these lands in the past.  Recently, this was of course the first location of the Allied reinvasion of Europe during World War II, as Patton and Montgomery both raced up through the island.  Going back far more years, this was the location of the failed Athenian Sicilian Expedition.  One of the turning points in history as the finest of Athens died or were sold into slavery after they unsuccessfully tried to take the island.  The suffering of those men would have been immense as they struggled through the valleys and the gaps between the imposing hills and mountains.  Yet now, we were able to glide effortlessly from one side to the other in a morning.

Since the drive wasn't too long, I thought it made sense for us to use the opportunity to visit a winery on the slopes of Mt Etna.  Our driver had helped us to arrange a scenic spot for both lunch and a tasting.  We reached the city of Catania and looped past on our way up to Mt Etna.  The road started the very slow climb up, and we could soon see the various vineyards that sat on the slopes.  The car entered into a region that seemed to be almost exclusively vineyards and wineries.  The car turned down a small road and led us to the vineyard.  Through the old stone walls, we walked through into a beautiful open area shaded by trees and overlooking the rows of vines.

It was a breathtakingly beautiful scene.  I struggled to think of the right word to describe it all.  Pastoral?  Bucolic?  Neither of those terms seemed to fit.  It was a scene of refined elegance.  It was a highly curated natural beauty, but it was lovely.  Walking into the breezy open area, I felt this sense of relaxation and calm.  We were led to our table underneath the shade.  We were being served a tasting menu paired with wines grown in the vineyards we were sitting opposite.  As the food came, we sat deeper into our chairs.  It was simple food that was cooked delicately with produce from the area.  Eggs, dairy and seafood, all served of course with various pasta dishes.  With each dish, a wine was paired.  For all our happiness with our situation, we looked at one another a bit with each wine.  There was no other way of describing them, except as not good!  I thought I would give them some time to breath a bit more before making my final judgment.  It didn't work, more time seemed to make the wines worse.  There was a sour sharpness to them.  It had been something we had noticed since arriving in Sicily, and I would be educated more later by sommelier and wine merchant friends that the myth of the great Sicilian wines was limited to the truly exceptional wineries.  For all others, it was apparently best to stay away. 
It was all fine though and it was nothing to be complained about.  Just another interesting quirk and experience of travel.  We both sat comfortably and satisfied with where we were.  The sun was up, and we could feel the warmth in the air, along with the cool wind that blew across.  Looking out from our table, there were the usual couples like ourselves, but also some large families who seemed to making their grand tour of Italy together.  Maybe it was a return to an ancestral home, an attempt to connect with the past?
Well fed and full of wine, we found the driver and got back in the car.  The final drive to the hotel was short but scenic.  We were winding along small streets and seemingly innumerous small towns that surrounded the slopes of Mt Etna.  Our driver lived in the area and explained the lifestyle of the area to us, the family life and the lovely benefit of having access to such fertile soils for their personal gardens.  The road became steeper and we began to climb.  Not too far away, we could see small towns that dotted the tops of the hills and high points.  One of these was our next stop, Taormina. 
We arrived in front of the grand old hotel.  We checked in quickly, and I immediately took Veronica with me down through the hotel garden to the pool with the spectacular view.  Perched out at the very end of a cliff, it had a commanding view that looked out towards the ocean.  I jumped straight into the water, wading up and down gazing back and forth towards both the sea and the mountain.  This would be a good place to spend the next few days.

Monday, August 14, 2023

Ferragosto in Cefalu

I had been a little bit concerned about the timing of the holiday.  I had booked the trip for the middle of August, which hits not only the tourist high season, but also the mid year public holiday in Italy called "Ferragosto".  This holiday dated back to ancient times and was the mid way mark of holidays for most local Italians.  So not only would we be competing with the foreign crowds, we would very likely be competing with the local Italian crowds as well as some potential holiday closures.  I hadn't taken any of this into consideration when I had booked the trip, so as the big day approached I was wondered whether there would be any negative impacts for us.

On the night before, we left Palermo and boarded a train for the beach town of Cefalu.

It was a very full train.

A train that became progressively more full the further we went.  This wasn't an express train between towns, this was a commuter train that seemed to be doing the milk run between Palermo and Messina.  There weren't any other options though, so short of hiring a driver to take us, this seemed to be the only way to go.  We were fortunate enough to get seats, but we also had all of our luggage with us.  At every stop coming out of Palermo, more people boarded the train.  It wasn't long before there was almost no space left at all, with people crammed into the aisle and standing shoulder to shoulder in the doorways.  These trains have a reputation for pickpockets and theft, so I kept a keen eye on our bags.  Luckily, others were also in similar situations to us and seemed to be just as mindful.  The trip wasn't long, less than an hour, but with the constant stopping it felt far longer.  When we arrived, we wheeled our bags the short distance to the hotel. We quickly got changed into our swimwear and headed towards the old town and the beach.

The old town of Cefalu is a lovely place.  It felt every bit the Mediterranean resort town.  The streets were compact and narrow, with the historic old buildings lining all the lanes to give it an intimate and welcoming feel.  The tourist trade had been very kind to this town and everything seemed exceptionally well maintained.  Everything was neat and tidy, all the shops and buildings were all immaculately restored.
The town itself was very small and we soon arrived at the beach.  It was a lovely Mediterranean beach.  The water was beautifully calm and the sand was covered in the umbrellas of the beach clubs.  We walked along the entire boardwalk.  It stretched towards the very end of the town.
We ducked back into the old town itself and visited the old wash house and the incredible doorway which opened up to the small beach and harbour next to the town.  It was all visually stunning.  We looped back into the town again and found small galleries and a place to eat.
Satisfied with our exploration of the town itself, we went back to the beach.  The town really was very small.  I was enjoying our explorations, but I was also glad I didn't commit too much of our time to this place.  A day or two seemed more than enough to get most of the sights and to enjoy much of what the town had to offer.  With its close proximity to Palermo, it also seemed completely inundated with day trippers and so it also didn't seem to be the best place to linger for too long in search of relaxation.  I hadn't been in Sicily too long, but I already felt there would be better more far off places that would offer better options for that sort of respite.  Back at the beach, we wandered along the boardwalk again in search of some spots at a beach club.  Several were already full, but the hosts were helpful in pointing us towards other clubs that may be more accommodating.  We eventually found a spot about half way down the beach.  It wasn't as close to the main part of the old town as we would have liked, but it did instead give us a far more impressive panoramic view of the entire town in the shadow of the "rock".
On the beach, we found our chairs and enjoyed the beautiful day.  The sun was shining.  The weather was warm.  The water was wonderfully cooling.  Families sat near us chatting and playing games.  Other couples lay next to one another holding hands and sleeping.  We ordered some food and drinks and embraced our surroundings.
Our initial disappointment at not being closer to the main part of the old town also quickly disappeared as we discovered that we were at the part of the beach which had a long sandbank.  We were able to walk along the sandbank out several hundred metres into the middle of the ocean.  I went out several times, jumping in and out of the water and looking back at the picturesque town.  After a few more trips in and out, I grabbed my phone and walked further out again.  I stood back with Veronica and we took photos of this surreal location, being so far out in the middle of the water.  The water itself was also incredibly clear.  We had been lucky the last few years with our travel and we had seen the blue of the Mediterranean in different places, each time uniquely striking in its colour.  This time, I was amazed by the clarity of the water.  It was like a shimmering glass, so perfectly clear that I could see our feet clearly even as the water lapped at our shoulders.
We went back to the hotel for a brief rest.  The beach had been very enjoyable but the heat had been tiring.  We napped in our room before getting ready to go out again.  It was dark and the intense heat of the day was gone, but it was still comfortably warm.  We walked back towards the old town to find a place for dinner.  The town had been completely transformed for the evening.  With Ferragosto, there were lights and decorations everywhere.  

This was a happy period for the Italians.  A time of rest and celebration that traced its time back to the Roman era.  Each street had been adorned with the bright lights for the festivities and it gave the entire town a joyous carnival like feel.  It was late, but everything was open.  The streets were full of happy people enjoying the lovely evening.  The cafes were full.  The stores open for business.  It was an incredible feeling to be surrounded by the revelry and the happiness was infectious.  We walked down the main street and bought arancini to snack on as we looked for something more substantial.  Each of the arrancino was hand made to order and immediately cooked in front of us.  They were crispy and hot on the outside, hot and soft on the inside.  It was a warm and satisfying feeling to eat them as we sat on the side of the street watching the laughing crowds go by. 
We walked further down the edge of the water and found a restaurant by the sea.  We sat outside on the terrace and ate dinner.  It was a large restaurant, but the inside was empty.  The true attraction was outside and everyone was seated out on the lovely terrace facing the ocean.  On the one side we could hear the waves of the ocean, on the other side we could hear the distant sounds of crowds and parties. Along the coast, there were other restaurants, all with their terraces full of diners.  After dinner, we headed back into the town.  The parties were starting there was music everywhere.  We walked around the harbour, admiring the scene and soaking up the incredible atmosphere.  Everyone had warned me about Ferragosto.  Too crowded.  Everything closed.  I couldn't disagree more with all the advice on this.  This was a wonderful time to be in Italy.   

Sunday, August 13, 2023

Palermo

We arrived mid afternoon in Palermo.  The aiport was outside of the city and the drive in was about 45 minutes.  It wasn't exactly scenic, with the most of the surroundings being low rise buildings and a very dry landscape.  There were some impressive geological formations that seemed to rise out of the ground that reminded me a bit of some places I had visited in the Middle East.  When we arrived at the hotel, we were confronted by an incredibly strong smell of room deodoriser.  It was candy sweet and seemed to get into everything.  The room was otherwise spotless though.  We left out things and immediately headed out to explore the city.

We had booked our hotel in the middle of the old city and so we started walking towards the famed street market of La Vucciria.  Along the way, we walked past a street that was decorated with lights and love hearts.  I immediately thought back to the Spanish Quarter of Napoli.  Would this be a similarly vibrant city full of life and joy?
We sat down in the market.  It was busy and full of tourists.  It had a semblance of being a working market, with fish stalls selling their goods, but the restaurants lining the lanes seemed to indicate that the tourist dollar was far more important.  We were still able to get a good meal, with our first plate of the hearty pasta alla norma and a fresh platter of frito misto.  It was simple food, but cooked well and with ingredients that sang with the flavour of the region.
The next couple of days were spent wandering the streets of the old town of Palermo.  It is an enormous area and claims to be the largest "old town" in Europe.  There were several large intersecting streets which seemed to be the centre of the touristed old town, with other parts being far less populated or visited.  It didn't quite feel like we were in Italy anymore.  There was a more decrepit feeling to everything that once again reminded me of Napoli.  It was a similar feeling of lost grandeur, but without the same grit that Napoli had.  The heat seemed to take an edge off everything and beat down on these old buildings.
We tried to find the famous places to visit in the city.  We stood in the middle of Quattro Canti and looked up and around at the statues that were arrayed at each of the four corners.  All around were the streets full of small shops selling gelato, granitas, cannoli and knickknacks.  Further along, was Palermo Cathedral.  Inside there was nothing particularly memorable about the large cathedral, but with a purchase of a ticket you had the opportunity to delve deep into the recesses of the crypt along with go to the very top to walk along the roof.  Both of these places were well worth the cost of the admission.  From the top of the cathedral we looked out far and wide across the city.  There didn't really seem to be a modern CBD.  There was the old town and then the more modern built up buildings that spread out far into the distance.
Further along still was the Norman Palace.  The building a is a strange mismatch of times, styles and designs.  Parts of the building are now a museum and other parts seem to continue to operate as the local government chambers.  We walked through some of the galleries, but what we were really interested in was the "Capella Palatina" (the Palatine Chapel).  Deep in the middle of the palace was this old church built by the famous Roger the Great of Sicily.  Compared to other churches we had seen in Italy, this place was exceptionally old, having been built during the twelfth century.  This was a building created during the middle of the Crusades, far older than the usual renaissance fare we were used to in other places.  Like our visit to Arezzo, we were instead walking through something that was very much from the Middle Ages.  After several trips across Europe and having seen some beautiful cathedrals everywhere, there is definitely a fatigue that begins to creep in.  What was once unique and spectacular becomes lost in the crowd of other similarly beautiful places.  This Capella Palatina was uniquely memorable and beautiful.  It was built by both craftsman from both the Greek and Islamic world, so it was a blending of cultures and styles that I hadn't see since my backpacking days in Syria.  The intricate beauty of the roof matched in a strange contrast with the ornate Byzantine mosaics.  I couldn't help but think back to the stunning Ummayad Mosque in Damascus.  King Roger had ruled over a cosmopolitan kingdom, full of people and cultures from the entire region.  It was a melting pot of people and this lovely place was the reminder of the wonder that could be achieved with such a blending of ideas. 
After enjoying the beauty of the Capella Palatina, we made our way back towards the middle of the old town.  We had found an old church and nunnery during our initial exploration, but what we wanted to experience was the dolceria that was inside.  It had been closing when we first visited and so we arranged our exploration to circle back another day when it was open.  On the inside was a bakery run by the nuns to raise money for their work.  People lined up for the various sweets, but what was the clear standout were the cannoli.  Each was made to order, with the option to select the toppings to go on each end.
It was my first cannolo in Sicily.  I went for chocolate and pistachio.  Veronica of course asked for everything.  I bit into it and it was immediately clear that it was the best I had ever eaten.  The shell was crunch and crisp.  There was no soggy or chewy texture to it.  The ricotta was intense and thick.  It seemed to be everything a cannolo was meant to be, unlike the sad imitations I had eaten over the years.   
We explored out further outside of the old city.  We walked out towards the harbour and to see the coastline.  It was far more industrial than I expected.  There seemed to be areas that had been built up around a boat marina, but for the most part it seemed to be more catered towards commerce than anything else.  We kept walking around the whole area, stopping to admire the famous mural of Falcone and Borsellino, the two great men who died trying to fight the mafia in Sicily.  The further we got from the marina and from the old town, the more degraded the city felt.  The old town didn't feel particularly well kept to begin with, so there was a real feeling of urban decay in these further outlying areas.
We looped back and headed towards the old town areas again.  It was the peak of the tourist season, so the streets were filled with tourists and with the accompanying touts and shops.  We wandered up and down the streets, but there was little that appealed to us.  Veronica found a few of the smaller shops that had some of the jewelry that she liked, but on the whole the shops were selling the standard tourist knickknacks that we weren't looking for.
Something about Palermo seemed to be lacking.  I couldn't put my finger on it entirely, but there was certainly none of the joy that I had experienced in Napoli.  There were deep similarities in the look and feel of the locations, but it seemed that culturally they could not have been further apart.  There were still great locations to visit.  There was the old and the ancient in this city.  There was a run down grandeur and splendour to the place.  Yet, the people seemed more sad.  There was a weight on the shoulders of the people.  We tried to look for more of the happier locations to enjoy ourselves.  We found great food and we found good music, but the feelings still lingered.
As we boarded our train to leave Palermo, I felt very conflicted.  There were very interesting things to see in this city and a truly unique culture different to any other place I had been in Italy.  Yet there was a sadness and trouble that seemed to linger wherever we went.  The poverty of this city was clear.  It was the height of the tourist season and yet there still seemed to be a lack of activity and opportunity in the city.  Infrastructure seemed to be crumbling along with the old buildings.  It was a city, like many in Italy, that had seen better days.  Yet unlike other parts, there didn't seem to be a joyful irreverence to contrast with this.  Instead it seemed that the depression in opportunity seeped into the mindset of the people at large.  It cut into any of the good experiences we had, and I felt guilty for it.  How can you let go and embrace any happiness when you feel such strong sadness around you?  This city was still full of beauty and a rich history, but it seemed to be a trapped in malaise of poverty and stagnation.

Friday, August 11, 2023

Venetian experiences

I had fallen in love again.

Venice is a city that attracts so much criticism, for how crowded it is, for its prices, for the sheer number of tourists everywhere.  Yet none of that mattered to me.  I was in one of the most incredible cities in the world and I was completely enamoured.  This city was incomparable with anywhere I had been before.  There was beauty around every corner in this city.  Each street, each bridge was a scene of unique visual splendour.  The combination of the buildings with the water and colours was something truly unique.  I had seen pictures before.  I had seen films before.   But none of it seemed to properly capture this lovely combination.  Each time I looked out, it seemed like the city was floating on sheets of glass. 
After walking through the city over the last few days, I also started to realise how much more the city had to offer beyond its striking facade.  Veronica and I had something that most other travellers to this place didn't have, the luxury of time.  Instead of only having a brief few hours to marvel at the city, we were able to enjoy everything at a slower and more deliberate rate.  There was no rush for us and we didn't feel at all compelled to race from location to location.  Even with this extra time, we didn't see everything we wanted to, that would take a far longer stay in this city, but we were still fortunate enough to be able to use a far more relaxed approach to enjoy everything the city had to offer.
So with that time, we sat down, we lingered and we embraced as much of the Venetian culture as we could.  Being able to stay overnight in Venice was also far more of a luxury than we could have imagined.  There has been a lot of talk about the incoming tourist tax for visiting Venice.  It seemed to add to the "Disney" claims of the city, but the more time I spent in this place the more I understood its rationale.  For many, a visit to Venice seems to have become nothing more than a quick stop on a longer tour.  Many visitors often stay outside of the city and day trip in, or in other cases they may pass by on large cruise ships to visit the city only for the day.  In both of these cases, the actual benefit for the city of Venice seems limited at best, and potentially detrimental at worst.  The visitors who come into Venice for such short trips often spend little.  However, the city services are still used and the crowds were impressive in their number, creating an expected burden on the city's ability to function and operate.  In the most extreme and famous of these cases, the cruise ship visitors may even have a packed lunch provided to them when they visit, meaning their entire trip into the lovely city is one which leaves no positive outcomes for the city, and only the drag of the additional burden on the city's resources.  I don't think about this from too critical a lens.  I understand it entirely, and I myself used to travel of a far more restricted budget.  Everyone should travel if they can, and if this is the way to allow for that travel to occur, who am I to begrudge them for their attempts to see more of the world?  On the other hand though, the city still needs to thrive and to exist, so the inclusion of a small cost to enter the city made a great deal more sense to me.
It was something that the local Venetians seemed to be well aware of as well.  Several times, when we interacted with the service staff or the shopkeepers, we would be asked in conversation if we were "staying in the city".  When we answered that we were, there would be this noticeable change in demeanour, as they became friendlier and more engaging with us.  They would proudly proclaim that they were Venetian and that they too lived in the city.  I could understand it all.  There was of course a pride amongst the locals for their city.  A city with such a history is certainly something to be proud of.  So for them, there must have been an additional consideration of the tourists who came.  In their eyes, there must have been a difference between those whom they thought brought too little to the city, as opposed to those whom they thought gave enough to the city.  It may be a binary way of looking at it all, to think of things only from this give and take attitude.  But for me, I thought the necessary exchange that took place when visiting Venice for a longer period was well worth it.  The more we gave, the more the city seemed to give back to us. 

I thought about the high cost of staying in the city overnight.  The hotels were extremely expensive, and though they had an old world charm, they were not modern and they were far from being even close to the best hotels I had stayed at.  Some of the rooms and hallways in the hotels seemed to be closer to antique than boutique in the worst sense of the word.  And yet, staying in the city meant that I got to experience the evenings in Venice.  During the hours starting from late afternoon, early evening, the city of Venice seemed to transform itself.  As people began to return to their accommodation out of the city or back on the cruise ship, a sense of calm descended.  The hectic bustle of the city disappeared and was replaced by a calm and relaxed atmosphere.  The spaces opened up, and the noise disappeared.  This was the Venice that people dreamed about.  The Venice that people seemed to think about wistfully as opposed to the heat oppressed days filled with crowded streets.
We took some care to look for some different places to eat whilst we stayed in the city.  Given the extra time we had, there was no need for us to eat at the most conveniently located places which seemed to offer the most stereotypical of Italian fare.  On our very first day, we found ourselves in a small secluded restaurant to the side of the fish market.  We had been late to look for a spot for lunch and so our options had been limited.  We had walked into the restaurant late and been lucky to be seated just before the kitchen closed for the afternoon.  The waiter was well dressed and the table settings were immaculate.  The food was well presented, Italian seafood dishes that seemed lighter than comparable versions I had eaten before.  We chatted a bit with the waiter and after the standard enquiries about whether we were staying in the city, he quickly directed us to various other restaurants in the city.  Places that were for "Venetians".  This would be another adventure for us that was unexpected.  The food of Venice doesn't seem to garner much fanfare internationally when compared to its illustrious counterparts in Tuscany, Lazio, Campania or Sicily.  I'm not even sure I really knew what Venetian food was before I arrived.  So with the extra knowledge, we explored and we found restaurants recommended by locals or by friends from the city.  I was surprised by all of it.  There were things that I expected, such as pastas and dishes featuring seafood.  Nothing unusual given the seafaring history of the city.  They were all well prepared, but they were all still variations of dishes I had eaten in other parts of Italy.  There were however the dishes we found which showed the other more refined side of Venice and its culture. Its location and history meant that it had a far greater influence of French and Central European culture than other parts of Italy.  This came through with what we ate.  We found ourselves eating cakes and pastries that seemed to be far more French than Italian.  Shops serving biscuits and other sweets that reminded me of Austria.  In the restaurants we loved, fish was baked and served lovingly as though we were in France again.  My favourite of all though were the risottos.  The finest and most delicately cooked risottos I had ever eaten.  The rice cooked the the ideal point of a delicate bite, with the flavours of the ocean and the local vegetables balanced perfectly.
The evenings also gave us time to enjoy the city's more local culture and vibe.  Before dinner, we embraced the "cicchetti" culture of the city.  It is the Venetian version of tapas.  Though from a historical point of view, I wondered whether it was the other way around?  It was a time for a small glass of wine, accompanied by some small snacks (the cicchetti), to be enjoyed with others and before the more important meal to be eaten later.  I felt the same enjoyment as relaxing over tapas and wine with friends.  The added benefit was that this could all be done sitting next the lapping waters of the canals.  We walked out of the areas around San Marco and San Polo in search of these different places.  We ended up finding the Canaregio district which seems to be the most "local" of areas where most local Venetians still live.  Life felt strangely normal as we sat, drank and ate.  Children ran around and locals popped in and out of the stores after a long day at work looking for a quick snack and drink. 

Even the most famously busy areas changed at night.  One night, after dinner we decided to go for a long walk.  We put our phones away and relied instead on our own sense of direction and the different signs pointing us back to St Mark's Square.  It was long and lovely walk through the quiet streets of Venice.  There were few people on the side and back streets, and each lane and bridge we crossed was always gently illuminated by the golden street lights.  We made our way past different parts of the city we hadn't seen before, finding random new pockets of life and activity, small bars and restaurants filled with people, and we found quiet and silent streets interrupted only by our own steps and that of some of the elderly residents as they themselves shuffled home.   We eventually found ourselves back at St Mark's Square.  It was still lively and full of people, but now nowhere near like during the day.  The old grand cafes that lined the square with tables had the bands out and playing.  We found ourselves a spot to sit down and to order what were possibly the most expensive drinks I have ever paid for in my life.  It didn't matter though.  We were there for the music and the ambiance.  The weather was warm, the breeze from the canal was cool and the music filled the evening sky.
I found it all a bit unfair that people have painted this incredible city as being nothing more than a tourist trap.  There were many tourists and there were indeed services everywhere which were in place to cater to those tourists, but this was no Disneyland.  The beauty and wonder of this city wasn't artificial or manufactured, it had all been built up organically through centuries of unimaginable wealth.  It was a city that had a depth of culture, unique to itself.  It seemed not quite Italian, but entirely European in its approach to life and attitudes.  This was place was a dream to visit.

Wednesday, August 09, 2023

Serenissima

We arrived by train in Venice.  It's a strange idea to arrive on this island by train.  It seems to be better known to the rest of the world as being an island cut off from the mainland, but much like Hong Kong, the modern world had caught up and there was now a bridge linking the Venetian islands to the Italian mainland.  It was our first time visiting and I felt that sense of excitement that comes when you are walking into a completely new place.

We walked out of the train station and we were immediately confronted with a breathtaking view.  I don't use that term casually either.  The train station opened up on a large open area in front of the grand canal.  On the other side of the canal, the palazzos and churches lined the banks.  It looked like something from a movie.  We made our way down towards the vaporetto stop.  With no roads, the public transport used in Venice is a "water bus" or vaporetto.  We had ferries in Hong Kong, but there was an extra novelty to this given how much more it seemed intertwined into the day to day existence of this city.  The initial experience was less than ideal.  The crush of visitors made it near impossible to line up, let alone board the boats as they came.  Somehow we managed to make our way onto one of the boats, only to realise it was going the wrong way.  This turned out to be a fortunate mistake as we took the boat one stop and then easily boarded another boat going the correct direction.  As we passed the original stop, we could see that there had hardly been any movement in the line and that the boat conductors were strict in how many people they allowed on.
We were staying next to the famous Rialto Bridge.  We checked into our hotel and quickly went out to explore the city.  Every street was crowded with people.  Venice has a reputation for tourism like with many other parts of Italy, but this seemed to be the epicentre of it all.  It seemed like tourists from every corner of the world had congregated in Venice.  There weren't any particular type of tourists either.  There were the tour groups, the backpackers, families, hipster individuals, couples looking for a romantic retreat, older travellers exploring the world.  It was all quite nice in its own way.  The crowds did make it a bit congested at times, but it was a good feeling to be around so many different people from so many different places all at the same time.  The one group that seemed to be lacking was actual Venetians.  These are an endangered species within Venice and we would learn that they had stronger views towards the different types of tourists that visited their fine city.
The next few days would be spent exploring.  I was well aware of the intense levels of tourism in this city, but I've also long come to the view that there is more often than not a good reason for places being very popular with tourists, and that is that those places are usually amazing.
We walked through the crowded streets and straight to St Mark's Square.  From there, we kept walking further along until we stood at the water's edge, looking out towards the Grand Canal.  Standing in this location, one of the great and important locations in global history was a special moment.  I felt the rush that comes from being in a new place, but I also felt the excitement of being in this special location in the world.  This was the place where the Doges has walked, where crusaders had come and gone.  I had arranged for us a tour that included a shared gondola ride.  It meant that we would be able to go into St Mark's Basilica without lining up.  I fully intended on taking Veronica on a more private and romantic gondola trip, but and the free gondola ride was a happy bonus.
The gondola ride was everything you would expect.  It was kitschy and hyper touristic.  Filled up with others, I felt very much like I was on a big tour group being shuffled from one location to another.  From the huge numbers being herded to the embarkation point, to the sudden groupings to get people onto the different gondolas, it was all an exercise in organised chaos   Yet through the rush, once we were on the gondolas, I enjoyed the ride through the canals.  With a starting point being near the more densely packed areas around St Mark's Square, we were able to observe and enjoy not only the beautiful buildings around us, but also the wonderful liveliness that embraced the city.  There seemed to be a party at every house and hotel, with the constant pop of champagne corks and music. Being on the water, you could also see the real magic of Venice, with the buildings all skirted by the water of the canals.  Magic was the only word that seem apt to describe it all.  The buildings seemed to float out of the water.  It is something I had seen countless times on different media, but seeing it person was a uniquely wonderful experience.  After the gondola ride, came the main attraction and the true purpose of the booking, St Mark's Basilica.  Even from a distance, this church looked dramatically different to any of the other churches I had seen before.  I had been lucky enough to travel to many parts of Europe, and for all of the beautiful and lovely churches I had seen, there was definitely at times a "sameness" to them all.  Irrespective of how impressive or majestic they may be, at times they tended to start blending in my mind and memory.  Standing in front of St Mark's Basilica was different.  This looked like nothing I had ever seen before.  I didn't have the classic image that most churches have.  Instead it seemed to blend elements from both European and oriental architecture into its own unique form.  Even thinking back to my time traveling through the Middle East didn't seem to bring up any comparable memories.  This was something that was by itself special.
The inside of the basilica was no less impressive.  It felt old and ancient.  Like something from a long and distant past.  Compared to the churches in Rome and Florence, it felt foreign and distant.  On the walls, the guides pointed us towards the tide marks, showing just how high the Aqua Alta could reach and the damage that had been caused over the centuries.  Still, this basilica survived, its interiors glowing with the precious stones and gold that had been brought in by its traders. At the top of the basilica was a small museum.  Inside stood the Horses of St Mark's, treasures pillaged by the Venetians during their sack of Constantinople.  The outside horses were just replicas and the originals sat inside here away from the elements.  I had read about the history of the crusades since I was young.  One of the first books I can remember reading in the school library when I was growing up in Melbourne was a children's book on the crusades.  To be standing in front of these treasures from history gave me a thrill and joy.
Next on our tourist travels was a visit to the Doge's Palace.  This centre of power could rightly claim to have once been the seat of the most powerful country in Europe, if not the world.  I thought back to all the grand palazzos and churches I had been in other places as I walked into this building.  From the outside, it was a slightly pink and ornate building, but it didn't stand out with the same level of grandeur as say the buildings at the Vatican.  However, once I was inside I saw how deceiving it all was.  Even with its beautiful exterior, it was incomparable with the beauty on the inside.  There was a level of wealth and power that seemed to drip from the walls and the ceilings.  From the outside, this really was more of an office block, which it very much was back in its heyday.  The incredible paintings from the great masters Titian and Tintoretto seemed to sag from the ceilings.  The sculptures and gold, seemed to bring the walls to life.  Walking through the salons and halls reminded me of walking through the buildings inside the Vatican.  Whereas at the Vatican, the incredible Sistine Chapel is one of the last and most impressive things you see, in the Doge's Palace, one of the last places you visit is the equally magnificent Chamber of the Great Council.  This was an enormous chamber that I lingered in.  The sheer size of it was impressive without taking into account the rich detail on every available space.  
From here, we made our way "out" through the back rooms and halls.  This led us to what was arguable the most famous part of the entire building, the "Bridge of Sighs".  This famous old bridge from which prisoners would look out one last time and let out a sigh at the beauty of Venice before being led into the prisons below.  Now it was full of tourists and visitors.  Each stopping and looking out as the condemned once had as well, still full of sighs but for very different reasons.
This city was captivating in a way that I had not imagined.  Its beauty is famed and yet the pictures and reputation still doesn't do it enough justice.  We had more days to spend here, it seemed we had only uncovered the briefest part of this city.