What I did on my holiday

After Stratford sort of took priority over the last week, (what, I got distracted by Shakespeare and David Tennant, who’d have thought it!), it’s back to the holiday. I do enjoy being able to share holiday pics on line.

Anyway, our cruise… we went from Genoa, to Naples, to Palermo (Sicily), to Tunis, to Palma, to Barcelona to Marseille, and back to Genoa, in the space of a week. For something that was supposed to be relaxing, in that we got transported to all these places and only had to unpack once, it was absolutely exhausting.

When we chose the cruise, we selected one which took us to a different port everyday, thinking that days at sea would be ‘boring’. As it turned out, it would have been nice to have had the chance to relax. Yes, I guess we could have just stayed on the boat in port, as some of the Italian families did, but where would the fun have been in that? I came back feeling I needed another holiday. But I’d seen a lot.

We went with an Italian cruise line, so there were only about two dozen Brits on board, but lots of Italians, also French, Spanish, Germans, Austrians, Canadians, Estonians, Americans (usually living up to their reputation and being loud and obnoxious), so we got to talk to lots of nationalities, though we didn’t use much Italian as most of the crew were from Indonesia.

My highlights were:
On board
· Just looking at the sunset over the sea
· Dressing for dinner (though only 3 nights out of 7, what’s that about?)
· Posing in the posh frocks at any opportunity
· Walking the almost deserted decks after dinner
· The Atrium where the string quartet played every evening, and you couldn’t tell you were on a boat (well, when the floor wasn’t lurching, that is!)
· Talking to two guys from…York!

In port
· Eating pizza in Naples

· Tunisia – I was in Africa, I could hardly believe it

· A fabulous café in Palma
· A rooftop restaurant on La Rambla, Barcelona, where we met our Estonian dinner companions
· La Sagrada Familia – pictures just don’t do it justice. You literally do catch your breath when you see it.
· Aix en Provence – Cezanne lived there, he even bought a flat, but our guide was far to interested in the cathedral to tell us anything about him.

I guess this sort of holiday is a ‘taster’, to discover places that you then want to go back to. I was pleasantly surprised with Palma, and I’d love to see more of Barcelona, as I felt we only scratched the surface. I fell a bit in love with Provence, I want to see more of the area, I want to go to the Chateau D’If, (I need to re-read the Count of Monte Cristo), Arles and Avignon.

I wonder if Galileo ever did this?

It’s time to pack and to leave our wonderful Residenza. I don’t want to go. There’s still so much to see, but yes, next time…

In the early afternoon we catch the train to Pisa, and our overnight hotel. After checking in, we take a taxi to the Torre Pendente. The whole area is heaving with tourists and tour groups. It seems they’re deposited in this one part of the city to take photos. As we look all around, people are standing with their arms in the air, posing for comedy shots. It’s very bizarre to see. But soon, we’re doing the same. It proves remarkably difficult to get the angle right.

We enquire about going up the tower, but it’s mid afternoon, and the first available ticket is at 7.30pm, plus it’s quite expensive, so we opt for a look round the city instead. It’s a very different experience to Firenze. Much more like Coney Street on a Saturday afternoon. After the Campo dei Miracoli and all the tourists, it seems strange to be surrounded by Italians, and, suddenly, there are no Americans.

At least the only Golden Arches we saw was at the station

It’s Friday and it’s shopping day. I’m excited by this, as I’ve promised myself a piece of jewellery as a belated birthday present. As we cross the Ponte Vecchio, I look in one or two windows, but I already know the sort of thing I want. As I look, I also spot some pendants – they’re in the shape of masks - I’m hooked, as they tick both the boxes of ‘drama’ and ‘Venice’ (yes, I’m in Firenze, but it’s still Italy!). Before I know it I have a new mask pendant. Next it’s the ring shop. I know it when I try it on. It has a turquoise stone, it matches my nails, it’s the one. I have what Cat calls my ‘Cheshire cat’ grin.

The afternoon is slightly less fun, as I nearly loose my handbag in the Palazzo Vecchio – I’ve just climbed a flight of stairs, commenting how much hard work it must have been for the servants, when I realise I must have left in the last room - two flights down. I hurry back, with that awful cold feeling of fear gripping me. Panic. Thankfully, it’s still there.

In the evening we’ve booked to go on an evening walking tour. Only we what we didn’t realise was that the ‘native English speaking guide’ would turn out to be ‘native American speaking’. The tour is geared to the lowest common denominator, and tonight that’s the American tourist who has clearly never opened a guide book or read any European history. As we’re standing on the Ponte Trinita, ‘who were the Medici?’ The guide discusses the devastating flood that hit Florence in the 1960’s when the Arno burst it’s banks, damaging many works of art ‘gee, did that affect Rome?’ The tour is interesting, but I get the feeling we’re only skimming the surface because of the audience. As the organisers are a theatre company, I thought we might get some dramatic re-enactments of some of the tales, but we don’t. Maybe there’s a gap in the market?

We do see parts of the city that we otherwise wouldn’t have, though, including the house of Bianca Cappallo, whose story, I comment, sounds like a Jacobean tragedy. After I’m home, I discover that Middleton’s ‘Women Beware Women' is based on it.

'It's like Whitby Abbey steps - twice!'

‘Be honest, did you think I’d wimp out?’
‘Yes, I did’

Cat decided that she wanted to climb the 414 steps of the Campanile di Giotto. I did this 17 years ago, and wasn’t sure if I could do it again – after all, I get out of breath climbing upstairs, so I was a little worried. I did want to try though, to prove that I could still do it.

I don’t think I made my final decision until we were going in, and even then I was thinking, ‘I’ll stop, if it gets too much’.

Well, I did stop, for quite a while, at each level, but I made it. Sadly, the photographic evidence is on film, so you’ll just have to believe me. They’re put up a sort of wire mesh though, which wasn’t there before. Health and safety again, I guess. The views are certainly spectacular, and we could look down on our rooftop terrace where we’d had breakfast.

After we reached ground level again, I heard myself saying ‘you know, we should climb York Minster one day’. I may have been delusional owing to the altitude!

Stendahl's Syndrome

It’s our first full day in Firenze* and when I see the sign saying that the expected queuing time is two hours, I’m very glad we’ve pre-booked tickets for the Uffizi Gallery. Finding the correct door to collect the tickets proves to be a bit of a challenge though.

As we climb the stairs, I’m already slightly over-awed at the space (and yes, in my head, I’m wearing velvet, and silk, and pearls, circa 16th C. - maybe they should introduce dressing up?!) The first few rooms are full of crucifixions, and ‘madonna and child’s, and remind me of the Byzantine art we saw in the Haghia Sophia in Istanbul. As we wander from room to room, the whole development of western art unfolds before us.

The ‘stars’ of the collection are the famous Renaissance pieces, ‘The Birth of Venus’, ‘Primavera’, but there are equally stunning not so famous pieces, women with beautiful tranquil faces, and enigmatic men. We reach the Tribune with its Medici portraits, and I’m fascinated to see the faces of the people who were responsible for so much of this, not just as patrons of the artists, but as the shapers of the city. It’s an incredible demonstration of power and influence.

As we continue, and one hour stretches to two, I’m beginning to get Renaissance overload, and be at risk of Stendahl’s Syndrome**. So much art does go to your head. We take a ‘breather’, in the café which overlooks the Piazza, only, you can’t look over, as you’re not allowed to stand on the parapet! It’s pretty quiet, although there are too may pigeons for my liking.

*For we must indeed have the Italian spelling and pronunciation
**Apparently they still have about 10 cases a year, according to my guidebook

Second impressions

As we arrive in Florence the airport coach crosses the Arno, and there spread before us is the view from all those images and films. The sun is shining and it looks beautiful. I’ve been before, but it was 17 years ago on a trip that also took me to Venice and Lake Garda. Now I reflect on it, I recall little of the actual experience of Florence and think that was because I fell so utterly in love with Venice that it faded in the memory. ‘Seventeen years’ is a refrain that I think Cat must have got sick of hearing over the last few days.

We walk from the station to our accommodation, which is just near the Duomo. It proves a little difficult to find, so I have to try out my Italian and ask a policeman. We still end up speaking English though. Walking back the way that we’ve come, we spot a tiny sign next to a huge door, and ring the bell. The Residenza is on the top floor, and we start up the stairs with our heavy cases. We reach the first floor before I realise that there is actually a lift!

Our room is comfortable and spacious, and when we look out of the window we can see the Duomo and the Campanile di Giotto. This really is a ‘room with a view’ that E.M. Forster* would have been proud of. After unpacking, we venture out and walk around the Piazza del Duomo, and down to the Uffizi Gallery and the Ponte Vecchio. I’m slightly dazzled by all the goldsmiths as we cross it, selling jewellery so ostentatious that much of it is too ‘bling’ even for me! It’s all very busy with tour groups playing ‘follow the umbrella’ and I’m very glad that we can deviate from the main tourist track.

Everywhere you look is a photo opportunity. You look upwards, and a shop turns out to be housed in a 15th C. palazzo. I’m a little overwhelmed by all the history, and thoughts of all those who have walked here before me. I feel slightly drunk and light headed at the thought.

Later, after a fantastic meal, we return to a much quieter Piazza della Signoria for a drink and we’re able to enjoy the statues under the Loggia de Lanzi that was earlier crowded with people. Nearby, someone is playing some music - this has to be close to heaven.

*OK, so it’s not a view of the Arno

The world must have got smaller somehow

This morning, I woke up in Pisa, and had breakfast in York - I was standing outside Wetherspoons before 9, waiting for it to open, for an 'end of holiday' fry up. I'm not sure that my brain has actually assimilated how this is possible, but my body is feeling particularly knackered.

Coming very soon, once I am back in the real world, my thoughts on Florence, Pisa, and our fabulous 'room with a view'. For now, I'm finishing unpacking, and watching Dr Who later, as long as I stay awake!

Comedy tonight

This week at drama, it was time to move on to comedy, working on short improvised scenes that had a farcical element, to longer improvisations which took a turn for the dramatic rather than the comedic. In fact I ended up having a storming row with the other character in my scene, just because of the way it was being played. Ah well, just call me a drama queen.

We then moved on to Commedia dell'Arte, working in pairs, with each playing one of the Commedia stock characters. We were 'Zanni', a couple of wily, and sometimes rather stupid servants, and had to develop, and then perform, a scene using the physicality of the characters. Very difficult, as there's really no such thing as OTT in this type of performance, but, it also has to be controlled, but it was great fun. I've done a bit of Commedia before, at Uni, and love it, as you can really throw yourself into it. After all, it's almost panto season, and panto is based on Commedia. And, it reminds me of being in Venice.

Italia 2006 part 2

After a bit of a break while I got sucked into the last episode of Dr Who, and my viewing of the Mystery Plays, and then the world of work (busy week, but then they all are these days!), I’m returning to my tales of Italy.

Having had a couple of days of playing ‘follow the umbrella’, I decided to strike out on my own. Only as far as Diano Marina, about 10 mins down the road, but still, I felt intrepid, buying my bus tickets and trying out my Italian. A little leisurely shopping and sitting in cafes was just what I needed. By about the fourth day of the holiday I think I’d relaxed into it.

Then I did my main trip of the holiday – along the coast, through Genoa, and down the Riviera di Levante to Santa Margherita and Portofino. Unfortunately the main Italian summer holiday traffic delayed our arrival in Santa Margherita, so we only had time for lunch there before getting a boat across the bay to Portofino. This was one of those memories you want to bottle, and take out on a wet cold and miserable day at home, or on a particularly bad day at work. It was gorgeous – arriving by boat, passing the incredible yachts in the harbour, clearly belonging to some of the beautiful people, although we didn’t see any of them, as the cafes and restaurants round the harbour were full of tourists like us. Maybe they hide away on their yachts during the day, and then come out at night? I’d certainly go back to that area, but I’d want to stay at Santa Margherita, or Rapallo, which are bigger and, lets face it, have more shops.

What else did I do? Well the pace of life had slowed down, so a couple of times we walked to Cervo, a beautiful village with shady narrow streets, set on the hillside, discovering cafes with wonderful views across the bay, where you could sit in the sun (or rather the shade) and drink cocktails, and on the last day where we sat and had a long and leisurely Italian lunch at a lovely restaurant, ordering our food in a combination of English, Italian and French.

Ah, Bella Italia – I guess I’ll be going back.

Italia 2006 part 1

Let's be clear from the start, I love Italy. The lifestyle, the history and the culture, the food and the wine, and the wonderfully relaxed attitude to life*. So, I went to the Italian Riviera for a week, to just outside Diano Marina to be more precise, and no that isn't the picture above**, that's Monte Carlo, where there were some seriously fabulous boats in the harbour, and some incredible cars parked outside the casino.

But, to go back, I had a great time, though it took me a couple of days to start to relax. What was lovely was not having access to a computer for a whole week, and never turning the tv on the whole time I was there. I knew when Italy won their football match***, and when England got knocked out, and that was all the news I had. Apart from that, I sat in the shade - it was far too hot to be out in the sun for long, reaching 39C one day - I saw the sights, I shopped a little and ate lovely Italian food. I didn't drink a great deal of vino, as, again, it was just too hot.

The Riviera is a part of Italy I'd not visited before, but which has long been on 'the list', and it lived up to expectations. The scenery is lovely as the Maritme Alps sweep down to the sea, with tiny villages in sherbert colours perched impossibly on the top of hills. And I've always wanted to go to Portofino.

We went to San Remo, home of the 'Italian Festival of Song', the inspiration for the Eurovision, and to Monaco and Monte Carlo and I realised that I really don't like playing the game of following the guide with the umbrella, and like to go off and explore on my own.

I find it difficult to describe Monaco. The streets are pristine, and you are apparently likely to get arrested if you so much as eat a sandwich in a park. It has an air of affluence, but also of slight unreality. Real people don't live like this, and therefore I didn't see any around. In fact it was mainly tourists and I thanked God that I wasn't on a cruise ship and hadn't been made to waer a sticker identifying me as such. We went into the Casino in Monte Carlo. You just pay an entrance fee, and go in to see the building, and play at the tables, or slot machines, if you wish. As this was during the day time, the reality was less James Bond and more old Americans in bad cruise wear playing the tables. I just know I would never make a gambler - I really don't like not getting anything back for my money. And I think that so much of the Principality has been developed on the back of the money made from the Casino tells you who really wins.

A week isn't really long enough. You wind down after a few days, and as you get to the end of the week, feel you've just settled in and have got to know the area, and could do with a couple more days, but, alas, I had to come home.

*unless driving, in which case passions run high
**my photos of Italy were on film, not digital, as I still think it's better for views, so I don't have them back yet. Ergo, you get a pic of Monte Carlo
**we were on a boat, in the harbour of Imperia and heard the shouts go up from a crowd watching outside a bar - the captain then did a little dance on deck!