St Tropez

Are we fancy people?  I couldn't tell and I wasn't sure.  I didn't think so given we weren't on a fancy boat, but at the same time, we were in luxurious surrounds and we had arrived in a very nice car.  Wealth and privilege seems to be a relative concept.  I know that I am in a good situation, but when you're in a place like the South of France, even the well off can be made to feel quite small by the sheer number of partying billionaires.  For us, we were clearly not doing too badly and the fact that we were travelling the way we were meant that we couldn't complain.  To complete the fanciness of this trip, Veronica wanted to go to St Tropez.  In the same way that places like Capri, Cannes, Positano and Monaco evoke images of glitz and glamour, St Tropez has that same allure.  We had been to all of those places on this trip, so it was almost fitting to include this location on our places to visit.

We woke up early in an attempt to beat the rush.  We were out the door and in the car at what seemed to be an early hour in this part of the world, on the highway before 9:30am.  I thought back to some of the car trips I had been on when I was young and the painfully early starts we used to make.  This laid back approach would have shocked and appalled my father.  The last time I had been here, I had made the decision to drive out to Aix.  It had been a long and dull drive of more than two hours, but I had wanted to go see Manon and Gabby.  As much as anything, it had been the boredom of the long drive which had been the most difficult to deal with.  This time, the drive was a leisurely hour and a half, and I had Veronica to keep me company and entertained.  The scenery along the drive as as spectacular as I remembered it.  The hills in the region were a deep red, and the rose sharply out of the ground.  As we made the turn towards St Tropez, we shot down quickly towards the water and hugged the coastal road of the bay.  I had been warned about this section of road and sadly everything we had been told was true.  The traffic ground to a crawl.  Annoyingly, it was clear to me after a while that this wasn't really an unavoidable traffic jam.  The entire road needed about six to eight more traffic light intersections.  Instead, it relied on roundabouts which also had zebra crossings for pedestrians to cross as and when they pleased.  With such a high level of traffic and so many people crossing the road to get to the beach, these delays had to be expected with such poor traffic management.  After what felt like an eternity, we reached St Tropez.  We found expensive parking and went for a walk around the town.

It was an extremely pretty town.

The buildings were old and striking against the water.  The French Mediterranean style and colours contrasted beautifully against the blue water.  The town itself was small.  The small lanes, winding everywhere and full of people. 

Everything in the town was catered towards the rich and wealthy.  There were boutiques everywhere, both small and local, as well as the ultra high end.  In one enormous building, I saw the only Dior cafe I have ever seen (are there any others anywhere else)?  The town reminded us both of a French version of Capri, but without the same sense of fun and with a more muted French cultural twinge to everything.  Having enjoyed my time in Nice and Antibes, I couldn't say that there was anything about St Tropez which made me feel any particular excitement or interest.  It was all very nice, but I wouldn't say that there was anything about this area which was better or nicer than what I had seen closer to where we were staying.  If anything, I felt that in an overly touristy part of the world, this seemed to have even more of the negative aspects that most would seem to avoid.

The day was extremely hot.  We walked over to one of the nearby beaches hoping to get a spot to rest and swim.  Luck wasn't with us and all of the beach chairs had already been booked.  Even lunch wasn't possible as all the tables for dining were also booked, so we had to content ourselves at the bar for a drink.  The prices were as astronomical as you would expect in this part of the world, so this wasn't a terrible outcome.  We walked around the town a bit more and found a spot for lunch.  It was difficult to enjoy this place.  There were too many people, and the heat was now oppressive.  By mid afternoon, I felt we had walked more than enough of this place and so I decided I was done.  We slowly walked backed to the car and began the slow drive out of St Tropez.  For all the fame and glamour of this place, it didn't seem to have the appeal to justify its reputation.  As we were driving, we were stuck in another traffic jam.  I looked at the time.  It was still early.  It seemed a waste for us to just go straight back to Antibes.  We hadn't seen anywhere near as much of this region as I had hoped on this trip as a result of traffic, crowds and the heat.  This seemed to be a good opportunity for us to get in one more stop, particularly for Veronica.

I punched in "Cannes" into the GPS.  It didn't seem right at all that we had come all this way to the Cote d'Azur and that I hadn't brought Veronica here yet.  I always had some mixed feelings about Cannes.  I wouldn't say that I love the place, but it always seemed like a nice enough place to visit.  The drive in was trouble free and we were able to find parking easily (something which has always generally be quite nice about the South of France).  We walked out into the streets of Cannes as the temperatures had begun to cool.  The atmosphere was happy and vibrant as it was back in Antibes.

Climbing to the top of the fort at the end of the town, we looked across Cannes as the sun slowly set.  It was as beautiful as I remembered.  The last time I had been here was with Maya and Todd.  I remembered standing in almost the same place, looking over the town and feeling lucky that I was there with such good friends.  I felt lucky this time as well being with Veronica.  My life was changing and moving forward, and it was good to be able to share these places with her.  We started walking back down towards the town.  We were hungry and it felt like the perfect time for dinner.  Along the side on the way down from the fort, there is the busy street leading up the hill full of restaurants that I was introduced to on my first trip to Cannes.  This was the first time I had seen the place during peak season.

There were no spots at any tables on the street itself.  That would have required more booking or for us to have arrived earlier, but we were still able to find a nice spot.  We ordered fish, which was perfectly cooked.  We had been lucky with food on our trip, and Veronica was quick to note that each place we had been in France had cooked the fish to an expert level.  We didn't linger too long.  We wanted to see more of Cannes in the evening.

There were markets and stalls set up all along the promenade.  Veronica started shopping as I walked around and watched the street performers.  Like in other places, even though it was late, there was lovely energy and activity we had come to expect this time of year.  There were children with their parents wandering around, groups of young people out having fun.  This whole region comes alive during the summer.  Veronica had a beaming smile on her face as she moved from stall to stall.  I loved visiting this part of the world and this time of year had made me appreciate its joy and beauty even more.

Boating in the South of France

As a treat for everyone, Todd and Tanya booked a boat for for the day.

Given the time of year and the lovely weather, it seemed like a nice opportunity to see the coast and to take Adam and the kids out for a bit of fun.  We left the harbour at Antibes early in the morning.  We had stocked up on drinks, snacks and sandwiches on our walk over to the boat.  We arrived at the same time as Adam and the kids.  They all looked excited with all their gear, ready for a day on the water.

Soon, we were out speeding into the Mediterranean.  We were one of the smaller boats on the water, but there was more than enough space for us to spread out.  I sat at the front and chatted with Adam.  He had been through a lot over the last few years.  I admired the strength he had shown.  This was something small, but a day out for him and kids seemed like a great idea.  After about forty minutes, we joined dozens of other boats which had moored between Ile Saint Honorat and Ile Sainte Marguerite.  Years ago when I first visited the region, I had caught a ferry from Cannes across to Ile Saint Honorat.  I hadn't gone swimming back then and had regretted it.  This time I would only be swimming and I wouldn't set foot on the the island.

We all jumped into the water.  For the next few hours, we spent our time floating in the cool water and swimming around.  Closer to the shore at Ile Sainte Marguerite there was an "underwater museum" of statues for swimmers and divers to inspect.  We swam around looking for them all, but the few statues we could find were underwhelming.  This was a popular location, and some local businesses had taken to selling food and drinks boat to boat.  We saw a "pizza" boat sailing around as well as a "cocktails" boat.  We had brought our own food and drink, but that didn't mean the kids weren't excited to see the boat which sailed around selling ice creams.  Sadly for them, every time we were out of the water and actually in the mood for some cold snacks, the ice cream boat seemed to just disappear completely from view.

After a whole day spent bobbing up and down on the water, we all decided we had had our fill.  The heat was a bit exhausting.  We had all tried to be responsible, repeatedly reapplying our sunscreen, but clearly it hadn't been enough for some.  My nose was getting very red, Todd and Tanya looked exhausted, and Phil was beginning to look like a lobster.  Veronica had managed to avoid most of it as she had sat in the shade at the back relaxing whilst I had been swimming laps chasing after the kids.  We gathered our things back onto the boat and set sail back towards the harbour.  Everyone was much more muted on this trip. The energy was gone after all the activities and most of the adults sat quietly napping at the back.  I sat at the front again with the kids.  There was little swell, but they eagerly cheered for the wake from the other boats to give us a bump into the air as we sped to Antibes.

Once we were back in Antibes, Todd and Tanya decided they were done for the day.  The combination of the heat and the activities had taken it out of them.  They were still jetlagged as well so they said their goodnights and went to sleep.  Veronica and I wanted dinner.  We walked out into the crowded evening streets of Antibes and searched for a good spot for dinner.  Phil was unconvinced, concerned that he would be intruding on our private dinner, but after a bit of cajoling and some strategically sent pictures of where we were thinking of eating, I managed to sway him to come out again.

It was a good decision.  We sat outside as the musicians played and filled up with the local nicoise delights.  The tomato and burrata was a must (and presented in the most beautiful way I have ever seen) as was a Nicoise salad given our location.  When the waiter casually mentioned that there was a special of deep fried zucchini flowers, Phil and I both quickly responded yes without any hesitation.  All of it was fresh.  It tasted real and full of the flavour of what it was "meant" to be.  This wasn't a plate of vegetables which had been ripened in a fridge or warehouse somewhere, this was good food which had come from a farm nearby.  After this, the fish came.  Baked in salt, the waiter walked out, showed it to us with a flourish, before immediately leaving to divide it amongst our plates.  It was like the entrees, delicious and satisfying.

After dinner, we continued to walk around Antibes.  We ate gelato and we enjoyed the liveliness of the town.  We thought about ending the night, but then we stumbled across the old absinth bar that Todd, Phil and I had enjoyed ourselves in several years ago.

Since we were here, we went in.  The bar was completely packed.  It was a very different scene to the one that we had enjoyed the last time we were here.  There was no music until a man with very long hair and a very long beard at our table stood up and walked over to the piano.  He picked up a guitar and began to sing and play what can only be described as the best hits of country and western music.  It was an odd, but fun way to end the night.

Promenade des Anglais

After an emotional evening with Adam and the kids, we had all gone home and to bed.  The travel had been tiring, but combined with this catch up, it had turned into an exhausting day.  I showered and collapsed into bed.  I slept soundly.  I was certainly tired, but there was almost a feeling of finality or achievement.  Arriving and seeing Adam and the kids felt like the completion of a long awaited task and so there was a level of mental relief with that part now addressed.  We would see them more before we left, but this first catch up would of course be the hardest.  So I slept well.  I woke up the next day more refreshed than I expected and ready to go explore the region with the whole group.  First thing we did was go and look at the lovely markets in Antibes.  The market was full of life as always, crowded but in a way that made it feel active rather than uncomfortable.  We looked at the different foods, I bought socca for us all to eat and the girls went shopping at the small clothing stands.  

We kept walking around Antibes.  There were tourists on every corner and down every street.  Children were running around.  People were eating gelato.   At the town square, the bandstand was actually full with a band.  They played music for the crowds gathered.  It felt like a normal day out with friends, we just happened to be on the other side of the world. 

After enjoying the lovely Antibes for the morning, we moved on to our next location.  Our plan was to visit Nice and to wander the streets and to embrace the beach life of the South of France.  For Todd, Phil and myself, we missed the water and the beach life.  Our days living in Australia were still fresh in our minds.  We wanted to be in the water and on the beach.  This was a bit of a different approach though.  The idea of private beaches with deck chairs and service was very foreign to us (which is unsurprising given we were in a different country....)  Beaches in Australia are always public and so are always free for all to use.  Even something as simple as selling food and drink of a beach in Australia is prohibited so as to ensure that it remains a place for public use.  It's something I have always appreciated about the beach back in Australia.  It's a truly democratic place, somewhere for everyone.  This was the opposite of what I was seeing here in France.  Here, there were sections of the beach which were public, but for the most part here in front of Nice, it was all about the private beach clubs.

The prices for entry were high.  We weren't dissuaded.  We were all new to this and we wanted to experience it, so it was something we were willing to all splurge on.  There were long waits for the deck chairs.  We patiently waited up at a seated area, cooled by the drinks available.  The lady at the front desk was inundated by a never ending procession of people looking to get seats.  We continued to patiently wait.  Chairs started to open up and more and more people continued to arrive.  Veronica decided that the lady at the front desk needed a reminder, so she went up with a smile and asked about the rows of chairs which had opened up.  A group of girls jumped ahead of us insisting that they were first.  The lady at the front desk very forcefully snapped back at them "NO!  They have been waiting before you."  The insistence of the girls seemed to make her even more adamant, and so she quickly changed from contemplating our request, to immediately granting us the precious chairs.

We had a good spot.  All five of us were arranged in a line, only a few rows back from the beach and with no one behind us.  Visually, it was a spectacular scene we had in front of us.  The water was a deep turquoise blue that seemed to glow in the light of the sun.  We all looked out, amazed at the beauty of it all.  It looked like some idyllic scene from a French impressionist painting.  The colour and the light, combined with the vibrant contrast of the white and blue umbrellas made me want to stay and just stare out for as long as I could.

We spent the next few hours moving between the chairs and the ocean.  The water was a lovely temperature.  Not yet too warm, but just cold enough to be refreshing and cooling.  We jumped around and swam like we were kids again.  Being with Todd and Phil, I felt like we were on one of our boarding school trips to the coast, but of course in a significantly more luxurious lifestyle.  At the chairs, we ordered drinks which were brought to us.  We continued to move back and forth.  Water and relaxation.  Veronica and Tanya collected rocks and shells.  Myself and the boys tried to throw one another into the air from the water.  As the sun slowly went down, the colours changed.  The blues faded to a paler shade that was just as beautiful.  We had our fill of the fun, and went to get changed and headed off to dinner.
 

A trip too late

I hear the term "bittersweet" used a lot.  It's an interesting sounding term.  The immediate contrast makes you think of course about something very physical, with taste being something so easily understood.  It seems to very often be used as a catch all term to capture a wide range of emotions and experiences rather than necessarily trying to pinpoint something more specific.  I never thought too much about it until now.  This was the first time I felt I understood the idea more.  I was experiencing the swaying back and forth between happiness and sadness.  The strange and conflicting feelings of joy and deep bitterness.

Our trip had been planned months in advance.  I had spoken with Maya about it.  We were going to try to visit her.  Along with Todd and Phil, we wanted to see her again.  Our calls were becoming more frequent and urgent.  We all knew that Maya didn't have long.  When we saw her last, it was with the happiness that she had overcome the struggles.  It wasn't to last.  The spectre had just been hiding and it returned.  Things seemed to slowly approach, and then they started to accelerate.  Through pained messages and tearful calls, we knew that we may not make it.  We all tried to assure her that this wasn't something for her to concern herself about.  I tried my best to reassure her.  If she was there, we would all have the happiest of reunions.  If she wasn't, we would spend all of our time caring for Adam and the kids.

We were too late.

Before we even left Hong Kong, my dearest friend Maya left us.

So now we were all in Cote d'Azur.  The moment we landed, I felt the intense pang of sadness.  The last time I was here was with Todd, and we had arrived to Maya and the kids trying to surprise us at the airport.  This time, there was no such welcoming party waiting for us.  We gathered our bags, went to our car and drove to Antibes.  We were the last ones to arrive this time.  Phil, Todd and Tanya had already arrived and were waiting.  When we reached the hotel, Veronica needed to relax for a moment (and it turns out so did Tanya), so I went to the closest bar where Todd and Phil were already waiting, and two drinks in.  That was a happy moment.  I hugged them both, my two old friends.  We laughed and joked.  We so one another infrequently, but I felt like we were still with each other in our lives.  I still had the feeling that we were one short, that Maya should have been sitting there with us laughing and drinking.

Eventually, Tanya and Veronica joined us.  We all made our introductions.  Both were new to our lives and I was very happy for them both to be able to join us.  We wouldn't be seeing Adam and the kids this evening as they were still returning to the region, so we instead took advantage of the long European summer evening to explore more of the beautiful streets of Antibes.

It was early evening, but the streets were filled with life.

There were people everywhere, and the noise and chatter of all the tourists was nothing short of vibrant.  I remembered very clearly the last trip I had made to the region with Todd and Phil.  We had come in the cooler months when the crowds were all gone.  The weather had been nice, but it wasn't close to being as warm as now and there were only the feintest of hints of the visitors that come to this part of the world.  For me, this was my third trip to the region and it was also my first during the very middle of the tourist high season.  People are often wary of tourist high seasons, but for me, I often think that there is a reason why tourists flock to a place at a particular time.  I remember talking to Maya about it.  She loved this time of year.  The weather was good, it was bright until very late, and she used to talk about the lovely energy that all the visitors brought to the streets.

I agreed with Maya's thoughts.  To me this was lovely.  I didn't mind the crowds at all.  If anything, they made the whole experience far more enjoyable for me.  People everywhere meant that there was more to do.  As we all walked through these familiar, yet dramatically changed streets, we started encountering large groups of bands and singers.  This was something which had also been completely missing from my last trips.  There didn't seem to be any particular busking happening, it just seemed to be one of things people did here.  The groups of musicians wandered around the streets and would just stop at impromptu places to begin their playing.  The crowds followed, they stopped and watched.  People started to dance in the street and children bopped along.  

As the night sky finally began to darken, people moved to the restaurants and bars everywhere.  And they really were everywhere.  When Todd, Phil and I were last here, it had been far more of a struggle to find places to eat and drink.  We remembered the places we liked being surrounded by places shuttered for the colder months.  Now they were all open and every spot was crowded with people.  We sat ourselves at a small spot near the harbour.  With food and drink, we all felt our energy coming back.  Todd and Tanya were suffering the effects of jetlag, so respite was needed.  It had been a long trip for them and they were moving from far cooler temperatures to the extreme heat of the South of France.

It was late.  It was time for us to get some rest.  We all slowly started to walk back to our hotels at the other end of Antibes.

I was happy.  I was with my friends.  I was with the people whom I cared about and whom I didn't get to see.  At the same time, I felt this feeling that pulled at me.  I thought about Maya.  She would have been with us.  I knew she would have come and joined us.  Our table felt emptier as we had eaten.  Even walking around, the group of five should have been a group of six.  I felt like I could hear her voice amongst our conversations, but I knew it was just my imagination.  I didn't like this conflicted feeling that made me sway dramatically from high to low.  

Neapolitan

The driver took us from the vineyard towards our next stop.  We were going to Naples, or Napoli as the Italians would call it.  Napoli sounds better.  There is a lyrical quality to the world that is completely missing in the English.  Why is there even an English version for this name?  Is it that difficult to say Napoli?  As we left the highway and entered the city, the feeling completely changed.  We had been enjoying a very relaxed and laid back lifestyle in the Amalfi coast.  Everything was slower and we had followed this up with a gentle drive through Roman ruins and vineyards.  What we were now in the middle of was far from gentle.  The roads and streets in Napoli were a crush of business and noise.  Cars moved slowly as scooters buzzed past and through constantly.  The sound of horns was incessant and our driver became noticeably more careful and attentive.

We arrived in front of an enormous old palazzo right next to Dante station, inside which was our hotel.  The palazzo had definitely seen better days.  It was run down and covered in graffiti, but all of that seemed to add to the strange charm of the place.  Veronica looked at me a bit concerned, asking me whether I thought this was a safe area.  I had no idea if it was safe or not, but it was definitely convenient.  We went inside the palazzo, found the floor that our hotel was on, and then went out to explore.  It was late afternoon, almost early evening, so we jumped in a cab and went straight to the waterfront.  There, we found a city alive with families.  Groups of people were running up and down the promenade.  Old men stood around smoking and talking.  Children rode bikes around.  People jumped in and out of the water swimming.  There was a strange juxtaposition of the high end cafes and restaurants with the very simple family life activities that were happening, but it all seemed to come together to create a unique scene.

It wasn't far to get back to the city centre so we walked.  In about fifteen minutes, we were back on the famous Via Toledo eating fried pizza.  It was one of the main thoroughfares of the city, but it was jammed with people.  There was a messiness everywhere.  The streets weren't properly swept, there was loose bit of rubbish floating around and the buildings all seemed slightly tattered.  It was very late now and it had been a long day for us.  We walked back to the hotel for some very needed sleep.

When we woke up the next day, we immediately left the hotel to start our exploring.  We had only one full day in Napoli and we wanted to see as much of the place as possible.  We walked straight to Dante metro station.  I had read about a 24 metro ticket which seemed perfect for our needs.  We went to the newspaper store in the station and asked for two of the tickets.  The owner gave us a gruff and terse "NO, they are not 24 hours!" as an immediate response which shocked me.  What shocked me more was how he then pulled out two tickets and proceeded to very helpfully explain in detail how the tickets in actuality were "daily" tickets which ended at midnight.  Neapolitans have a reputation as being rough, but friendly.  This was a very clear example of that.

We went towards the centre of town and the walked back along Via Toledo as we had done the night before.  In the brightness of day, some of the shabbiness and grime wasn't so obvious.  The grand old architecture came to the forefront and you could feel the old magnificence of the buildings.  We continued towards the large and open Piazza del Plebicito.  Our first stop was inside the opulent Gran Caffe Gambrinus.  We sat there for a breakfast of pastries and coffee.  Neither was particularly good, but we were paying for our surroundings.  I was continually shocked by the quality of coffee in Italy.  The modern approach to coffee I knew from Australia and elsewhere had clearly surpassed the old world approach and the adherence to tradition in these circumstances was producing what was ultimately an inferior product.

Outside of the cafe, was the enormous piazza.  I was reminded of St Peter's square in the Vatican.  It wasn't quite as large, but it was certainly felt like it was of a similar scale.  There was a wedding about to happen in the basilica at the far end so we went in to look at the preparations.

There was an old world elegance to everything.  I could understand why so many people in other countries were so easily caught up in all of this.  The idea of this grandeur could be incredibly appealing, and when added to the smart uniforms of those waiting at the front, it seemed to match every childhood idea of what a fairy tale should look like.   

On the other side of the piazza was the old royal palace.

Again, it was enormous and the scale was actually larger than the palaces in Rome, revealing once again the true power and importance that this city once held.  The inside of the place had been converted into hall after hall of galleries containing incredible paintings and sculptures created in Italy over the centuries.  Being in here, I was reminded far more of Versailles of Schonbrunn than some of the other places I had seen in Italy.  

We didn't have a huge amount of time.  Walking through the grand old halls, Veronica's memories were triggered, as she started to recall childhood trips with her family and recollections of this palace started to return.  Walking into one particular hall, decorated largely with a deep red motif, she declared that this was indeed the palace that she remembered visiting when her family had been visiting off of a cruise when she was younger.  After a couple of hours, we moved towards a different part of town.  It was approaching lunch and we were in Naples.  We wanted pizza.  It was a cliched thing to want in this city, but it seemed like a crime to be here and to not indulge in this speciality.  I had read that Da Michele was one of the best places to go.  We arrived outside to see an enormous crowd of people waiting.  We took and a ticket and waited.  After about five minutes, Veronica stood up and walked towards the front.  She looked at the number on the counter and the slow movement of the crowd and then came back to me.  "One hour" she declared.  She was convinced we should go and do something else in the meantime.  I was a bit unsure about leaving the line, but given we were only here for a day, I was happy to go for a wander.

It was now around midday.  The sun was in the middle of the sky and it was hot.  Walking back towards the middle of town, the narrowness of the streets was an unexpected protection from the worst of the heat.  Nestled amongst the high buildings, each of the narrow lanes became a shaded sanctuary and we walked along looking at souvenirs and eating lemon granitas.  At one point on our walk, we saw an old lady running her simple fruit shop.  I grabbed two plump looking peaches and paid her.  For such a small sale, it seemed hardly worth her time and she moved slowly.  But when I asked if I could wash them, she smiled and pointed me inside her shop towards a sink.  Again, I thought about the gruff, yet friendly nature of the Neapolitan people.  Walking along the famous Spaccanapoli, it was a strange contrast of tourism and history.  Every second shop seemed to be selling meaningless trinkets for tourists like us, but there was also an undeniable feeling of the past on the street.  This street apparently followed the old layout of the old Roman town and with the high buildings on either side and the bustling crowds, you could almost feel what it must have been like in ancient times as the locals and visitors alike would have jostled amongst each other.

After an hour, we made our way back to Da Michele.  There was still an enormous throng of people waiting.  I walked closer to the front to look closely at the counter - "17" it read.  Veronica held up the stub to me with the number "22" and a big smile on her face.  Her timing was impeccable and within 5 minutes our number was called and we were taken to our table.  Inside, the restaurant was simple and very clean.  It was an almost sterile feeling with the tiling along the walls, but the prices were also extremely low so I was happy to overlook that.  Looking at the cashier counter, there was a large picture of Julia Roberts eating a pizza.  This was apparently the restaurant featured in the frustratingly whingy movie "Eat, Pray, Love".  I felt my heart sink a little bit.  Was this the true reason for the long wait?  Were we only dealing with other tourists because of an unjustified reputation inflated by one of the more annoying movies of the last twenty years?  We ordered two pizzas and two beers.  Two Peronis, one margherita and one marinara.  The beers arrived quickly and other pizzas arrived at the tables next to us.  The pizzas were enormous.  Each person always seemed to order one pizza for themselves, but how they could ever manage to finish them was a mystery to me.  Within a few minutes, our own pizzas arrived.  They were brought to us directly from the oven we had walked past on the way in and there was still the wafting up of the steam and smoke from the pizzas.  I took my fork and knife to slice out a large piece for myself and took a bite.  Any fears or concerns I may have had immediately evaporated.  The pizzas were delicious.  The sauce on top was as you would expect, with a delicate balance between the sweet, savoury and tangy of the tomatoes.  The cheese on the margherita was creamy and nicely melted.  The seasoning on the marinara, just enough to compliment the tomatoes.  The oil was lighter than I expected, I would later find out that they didn't use olive oil, but instead used soy oil instead of olive oil as a point of difference to highlight the flavours of the other ingredients more.  Unsurprisingly, the star of the pizzas were the crust.  They had a yielding texture that seemed soft to the bite, yet still enough pull that you needed to pull and chew harder to tear out a piece.  As we sat and ate, we found the pizzas quickly disappearing.  The marinara was good, but nothing compared to the margherita.  We concentrated our attention on that, finishing it quickly and leaving only a few scraps of the margherita left.

Now that we were full of pizza, we had to move on to our next stop.  We were tired and sluggish, but we wanted to keep moving to take advantage of the rest of the day.  We had enough time for a few more stops before the sun started to set.  We started walking along Spaccanapoli again.  The crowds were growing as more people started to come out for food and drink now that the sun wasn't as hot.  Winding through the crowds, we reached a church.  However, this wasn't what we wanted to see, we actually wanted to see the famous gardens inside the grounds of the church (or monastery).  The Chiostro di Santa Chiara houses ornate gardens at its centre.  I had seen pictures and videos of it and given its location in the centre of town, it seemed to be a good spot for us to explore as we slowly digested all of our pizza.  The surrounding church and halls are interesting without being overly memorable.  Most of the buildings had apparently been destroyed by bombing during the Second World War and so seemed to lack some of the ornate detail we had seen in other locations.  The garden on the other hand was itself was the opposite of that.  It was the prettiest garden I had seen in a long time, with the walls dividing the manicured grounds decorated with colourful tiles.

Visitors walked up and down the paths admiring the tiles, under the watchful eyes of the guards who stopped and yelled at anyone who went to sit down on the benches.  Looking at some of the chipped tiles, I understood the need the protect these tiles.  With all the warnings and repeated reminders, I was still a bit surprised to see some people chance it for that perfect photo.  Within moments of the attempt, one of the guards would be loudly yelling at them.  In the middle of the garden, there were several orange trees.  They were full of fruit, with some of the oranges have fallen to the ground.  It created a lovely scene, almost idyllic of a secluded little paradise away from the busy of Napoli, calm and full of fruit.

We walked back along Spaccanapoli towards the hotel.  We went in and rested thinking we would stay a moment before going out again for dinner and drinks.  Veronica suggested we should go to the National Archeological Museum.  It was late and we didn't have much time before it closed, but she wisely suspected that I actually wanted to go.  She was of course right.  I did want to go.  This was where the original of the Alexander the Great mosaic was housed and I want to see it.  I happily agreed to her kind suggestion and we took the metro the one stop over to the museum.

The museum is housed inside an enormous and grand old building.  It used to be a barracks and also at one point a university, but now houses some very impressive pieces ranging from ancient times through to more recent Italian history.  I wanted to see the mosaic, so with the little time we had we went straight to the section dedicated to the treasures of Pompeii.  Once we got there.... I encountered a large sheet of canvas.  The entire mosaic was being restored and so there would be no viewing for me.  I was a bit disappointed, but in truth, there were more than enough other historical wonders to look at in awe.  Like with many other museums in Rome, it was always a strange feeling to stand in front of some of these works.  My memory of them still only from textbooks and school, and to feel that slight bit of connection to the history that I had read so much about.

With my attempts to see the Alexander the Great mosaic a bust, we went back to the hotel again and relaxed.  We were in Italy, so there was no need to go straight out again for dinner until later, so we took the time to relax and to wash.  It had been a fun and full day, but the heat and the dirt of the city made us both feel like we were coated in grime.  Veronica fell asleep.  It seemed like the right thing to do in the heat and given how long our day had been.  It also seemed to be a very local thing to do.  Avoid the heat of the day.  Sleep, rest.  Then go and do more once it was cool.  Outside, it was now dark.  I was getting hungry again, so I woke Veronica and we prepared to go out again.  This time we took the metro the very short distance from Dante to Toledo.  The Toledo metro stop has the reputation for being the most beautiful station in Europe.  I was skeptical of such a claim, but as we took the escalator out towards the exit, I understood more the love that many had for this place.  There was a modern feel to everything that tended almost towards the sci-fi. I wasn't sure if I would necessarily call this the most beautiful station in Europe, but it was certainly unique.  I took the obligatory photo, and strangely felt that it all actually looked better on camera than in real life.

Outside, we walked along Via Toledo again.  This time, we took a turn right and up into the Spanish Quarter.  The neighbourhood has the reputation as being the roughest in all of Napoli, full of crime and danger.  Once again, it seemed that the reputation was something that belonged in the past.  Instead, I found a bustling and lively neighbourhood, full of families and tourists all happily walking around and enjoying the summer evening.  Restaurants and cafes lined the streets and we were luckily able to find a table with the huge number of people who were walking around.  After we were seated, no less than a dozen other groups came and went with no luck.  We wanted Neapolitan food and we wanted seafood.  The waiter was exceedingly friendly, and once again helpful in a strangely gruff manner.  Veronica ordered a wine.  He scrunched his face and said no.  He turned the page and pointed to another bottle at the same price and said to get that one.  We ordered our dishes and when I asked about a fish, he looked at what we had ordered and shook his head again.  It was too much, we wouldn't be able to finish it all.  He could have easily just taken our order, charged us for all the food, but that didn't seem to be the way here.  At the tables around us, there was a curious mixture of tourists and locals alike.  A French couple sat to the side with their teenaged daughter.  An elderly Italian couple was nearby.  Some Americans sat next to us.  To the side was a large table full of young Napoli guys who seemed to be trying to drink their own weight in Coca Cola as they had their dinner. 

Once dinner was finished, we walked back to the area near Dante station.  Behind that station and piazza area full of people sitting in cafes drinking, there seemed to be a procession of people heading to and from an even busier area.  We followed them in and found what seemed to be the true party centre of this city.  It seemed to be an enormous street party (or "streets" party given it covered several blocks).  People were every, standing in and around the bars and cafes, overflowing out into the streets and around the small squares.  Drinking, smoking, laughing and talking. 

There was a liveliness to the night that energised the air.  There didn't seem to be any particular type of person involved either.  There were kids running around, elderly people, young people.  A group of young Americans walked by with their instantly recognisable accents.  Italians were standing around singing local songs.  One girl, dressed in a tiny clubbing dress strutted past us with her friends towards the centre of it all.  Everyone just seemed to have smiles on their faces, all doing their own thing in the same place and all at the same time.

I came to Napoli with no expectations.  Maybe even that isn't a correct statement.  It's probably more accurate to say that I came to Napoli with hesitant expectations.  The city has a reputation of crime, dirtiness and theft which terrifies tourists, but it does no justice at all to this place.  When you look at the place from the surface, it is grimy and run down.  There is trash everywhere and the people seem incredibly rough.  But this didn't capture this place at all.  This was a mad city that was full of life and joy.  The people were gregarious and friendly, helpful to a fault.  The food was exceptional.  The streets were a giant party, full of life and happiness.  

I heard there was a saying in Italy, "See Naples and die".  The reputation of this place was that once you saw it, you had seen all the beauty you needed to see and you could die happy.  I didn't want to die yet.  But I loved this city.

Pompeii

Growing up, I was always fascinated with history.  Most of my reading and interest was consumed with histories, ranging from the ancient world through to more modern topics such as World War II.  The history of the Roman Republic and Empire always held particularly strong hold on me.  Any reading of Roman histories was always bound to at some point go through the story of Pompeii and Mount Vesuvius.

We left Positano early in the morning and we had arranged for a car to drive us to Naples.  Since it was on the way, we had booked in a stop at the Pompeii historical site.  

There were tourists everywhere (as you would expect), but the heat of the day was almost overwhelming.  With almost no shade or cover, everyone was fully exposed the beating hammer of the sun.  One enterprising tourist had managed to find an enormous beach umbrella and was carrying it around with her to provide some additional respite.  Our guide seemed to be suffering more than most and spent most of the time trying to splash water on himself.  He was friendly and struck up a friendship with Veronica over their shared love of expensive sunglasses.  He was particularly delighted when Veronica noted how nice his Tom Ford sunglasses looked.  Recognising the effort he had put in seemed to make his day.

We only had a few hours, so we wanted to see some of the key sights.  The location is truly enormous, and it would be possible to spend an entire day slowly exploring all of the sights.  We didn't have that much time though.  Even if we did have the time, with the intense heat of the day, I don't think any of us would have lasted.  After about half an hour, our guide had run out of water and looked to be struggling.  I had a two litre bottle fresh out of the fridge in my bag, I brought it out and offered him a refill.  He eagerly accepted and responded with surprise when he took the first drink "oh my god, it's still cold!"

Refreshed, we continued walking and our guide took us to various spots around the city.  We saw the old ruins, the tragic plaster casts of those who had perished, the beautiful details around the streets and buildings that we would have completely missed if it were not for our guide.  It was the little things that I appreciated the most.  He pointed to the ground, and showed us the small chips of marble that were embedded into the road, placed to help reflect light up to aid with the evening transport of goods.  He showed us the hand marks at the fountains where people leaned in to drink, the showed us the small symbols carved into the walls.

It was all fascinating, but what really opened my eyes with wonder was when he brought us into one of the grand old villas which once contained an enormous mosaic depicting Alexander the Great charging towards Darius III.  The moment I saw this, I immediately exclaimed that it was Alexander charging towards Darius III.  I was astounded by this mosaic (which I later found out from the guide was a replica as the original had been moved to a museum in Naples).  It was an image I had seen countless times growing up in textbooks and documentaries.  I had no idea that it had originally been found here.  Our guide looked at me with surprise and declared that I was a unicorn - one of the few people he took around who actually knew anything about the history.  It was a nice compliment to receive.  We had been chatting throughout his tour, and I had been randomly asking questions here and there which probably put him on notice that I at the very least, knew something rather than nothing about our surrounds.  But now that he was convinced, he took extra care with us.  He looked at his watch and declared that we should go to another spot.  He took us to the old amphitheatre and demonstrated with claps the incredible acoustics of the place.  I was immediately taken back to when I was in Ephesus with the guys, all those years ago.  I remembered how amazed we all were walking through those ruins and how we all stood on the stage of that amphitheatre, yelling out obscenities to each other to see whether it was audible at the top row of seats.

With our tour done, we said our goodbyes to our tour guide and found the driver.  The next stop was to a local vineyard.  Our tour through the region had been done at a fast pace, but I wanted to take Veronica to at least one Italian vineyard on our trip.  We didn't have time to go up to Tuscany, so a short visit to one of the vineyards in the shadows of Mount Vesuvius seemed to be the next best option.  Our driver left the highway and started circling through what felt like quiet suburbs, until it opened up in row after row of vines.  He parked the car as we went in and sat down for our lunch. 

We sat looking out towards the vineyards and the mountains.  The food was as we had come to expect, hearty and cooked in a lovely homely fashion.  As always, the quality of the ingredients shone through as we ate.  I thought about what our guide had said.  This land was so fertile.  People from around the world had come here to trade, and they had brought the seeds of fruits and vegetables with them.  What had been small and tasteless changed once it was brought into contact with this deep and black soil, with the intense sun and with the plentiful water.  There was the constant bargain that the people lived with, the perpetual danger of Mount Vesuvius, but in exchange they received a true bounty that we were still eating.  The wines were brought with each course, each one being a local variety.  They tasted of minerals, having soaked up the nutrients from this amazing land.

The Amalfi Coast

It had only been a few days, but we were both completely enamoured with this part of the world.

There was an indescribable mood to this entire region.  I don't quite know how to describe it, but there was this intoxicating mix of extravagance, beauty (both natural and man-made), simplicity of lifestyle and joy.  Maybe it was this confused mix that was what made it so enjoyable?  There wasn't any particular trait which stood out, but all of it seemed to blend together well.  The happiness of the crowds and tourists was particularly lovely to be around.  Everyone was in such a joyous mood, it was infectious.  Wherever we walked, you just felt like you were walking through a strange idealised version of life.

In the mornings, we woke up and looked out from our balcony at the famous "pyramid" of Positano.  The large windows directly in front of our bed faced out towards this iconic view, and opening my eyes to the room bathed in a golden light with that perfect view felt like a waking dream.  Each day, the sky was perfectly clear and there was never even a hint of rain for our entire trip.  We would sit on the balcony and look out into the distance, just enjoying one another's company as well as the vibrant colours of the buildings.

With the time we had, we did some gentle exploring up and down the coast.  The ferries to and from Positano were frequent and nothing seemed to be very far.  The town of Amalfi was only half an hour away, so it didn't even take a day trip to go and visit.  Other people seemed to take to the winding roads, but this seemed to be a bit of a waste for me.  The coastline of this region was what I wanted to experience the most, and there was simply no better vantage point than from the ocean looking in.

In Amalfi, we did as the tourists did.

We walked up the main street, we ate granitas, sat in the restaurants and watched the enormous throngs of visitors pass by.

At the very heart of it all was the famous cathedral.  Even by Italian cathedral standards it was old, but it had a unique appearance that reminded me of the old Byzantine churches I had visited as a backpacker all those years ago.  The colours and the repeating patterns seemed far more Greek than Italian.

Inside the cathedral was as ornate and gilded as you would expect in any Italian cathedral, but again there was an style to everything that made it all seem that touch bit older than what I had become used to seeing in other parts of Italy.  It appeared more delicate and further removed, leaning more towards the Middle Ages than the renaissance. 

We walked further into Amalfi and saw the main street narrow as it reached the top.  Drivers slowed to a crawl as the tourists swarmed around them.  We seemed to be funneled from both the sides and above, with small archways reaching out across the street between the buildings.  There were parallel covered streets that stretched alongside this main street, each with small shops full of tourist gifts and knickknacks.

Outside of the town itself, we wandered further up to get a better glimpse of the famous stretch of beach.  The walk up was slightly treacherous, with the sidewalk disappearing and tourists braving the racing cars to stand at the corner of the road which provided the perfect panoramic view across the beach.

Within the town itself, there were locations off of the main street which opened up to idyllic visions of village life in Amalfi.  In a small square, less than five minutes walk from the front of the main cathedral, there was a quiet spot to look out to the ocean completely uninterrupted by any other visitors.  I was amazed that this location was so hidden and peaceful, but it's a recurring theme I've noticed over the years.  Tourists will generally stick to the main and heavily frequented areas, and these very short walks to the side can often reveal untouched locations like this.

Back in Positano, we embraced and enjoyed the perfect life.  There was nothing negative about the experience.  Even the stairs up and down the various parts of the town felt fun as we moved around from place to place.  At the beach clubs, we lay back and looked out at the clear waters.  We swam in the cool waters, lay on the chairs to warm ourselves and repeated this over and over again.  We drank granitas, read books, and enjoyed one another's company.

On our final evening, I arranged a special dinner for us.

A minivan came and picked us up in front of our hotel along with others who were heading to the same restaurant.  The minibus climbed high up in the hills overlooking Positano.  It went into the winding roads that seemed to narrow the higher we went.  Finally, we stopped in front of wooden gates, which opened up into the restaurant.  This wasn't just any simple restaurant though.  It was set in a farm perched on the cliffs directly above Positano.  We had seen many unbelievably beautiful views during this visit to the Amalfi coast, but it seemed like this may have been the best one of all.

We walked down a set of stone stairs and into the restaurant.  Inside, there was an enormous hearth that one of the chefs was grilling meats over.  We were led to our table, but we got up almost immediately to go and look at the farm.

The farm sat underneath the restaurant and was full of animals, fruits and vegetables.  We walked through, petting the animals and looking out at the views in the distance.  It was nice to be surrounded by the farm.  We had both dressed up for dinner, and it felt surreal to be in such a rural surrounding in our more refined attire.  Others were also walking around, enjoying the opportunity to see this working farm in the middle of this idyllic tourist location.  It was something that was an important part of this part of the world, the fact that the land was still so fertile and in use.  It made it all feel so real a 

Back inside the restaurant, even with the open verandah, the smell of food filled the room.  We had no choice of food or drink.  Everything at this restaurant was decided by the owners.  When one of the waiters brought us our first enormous plate of vegetables and stewed beans, I asked him why they took this approach.  He happily explained to me that they wanted to serve us all what they liked to eat, not just what the tourists "wanted".  In a tourist location like this, they thought that the food choices available were changing.  Restaurants were only serving what the tourists "wanted", which at times wasn't local and didn't embrace the produce available in the region.  Instead, they wanted to serve to us what they ate, the types of food and dishes that people normally didn't order or know about but which had been keeping them nourished in their homes.  What they served felt more homely and authentic.  The simply cooked vegetables, the stewed beans, these weren't fancy or expensive looking dishes.  But they tasted of the ingredients.  The beans in particular I loved.  Cooked in fat, they were moreish and satisfying.  The waiter was right as well, something as basic as stewed beans wasn't something I could imagine people ordering regularly in this part of the world. 

As the sun eventually set, the views outside changed as well.

Looking outside, Positano was now bright in the distance.  It shone out clearly amongst the dark hills and the ocean.  The weather cooled and we could feel the breeze from the ocean.  The waiter brought us another bottle of wine which they made themselves on the farm.  It wasn't the finest of wines, but it was memorable.  Drinking the fruits of this land, eating the home grown vegetables, looking out towards the horizon.  There was no where else I wanted to be.

I had never been to a place which had completely taken me in so much.  This place had every warning sign to me about being a potential tourist trap, and it had still given me an experience that I didn't think I could ever shake.  The Amalfi coast exists as this perfect location, this dream of a location for tourists around the world, and it is a deserved reputation.  Steinbeck said that Positano bites deep.  It had certainly done so for me and more.  This place had burrowed itself deep inside my heart and mind.  I think any place I go to will now always be always be compared to this from now on.