Adventures in the Campania region, Italy.

I’ll add the photos when D comes back with my power adaptor!

From Messina, we caught an overnight ferry to Salerno- in the Campania region of Italy. Here is a tip for anyone wanting to travel by Ferry in Italy- don’t book your tickets in advance. Front up to the desk in advance and book then. We have booked two ferry trips via the internet and neither have worked out for us. This time it turned out we had booked the return trip from Salerno to Messina. Oops. By the time we boarded and put our luggage in the cabin, even D was ready for an alcoholic beverage. Those that know D know how frustrated we must have been. Otherwise, the trip went smoothly- cabins were comfortable and we had our own shower and toilet.

We were met in Salerno port by Ermanno who took D to the University. I was shown around the city by Eleanora who treated me to a Brioche. Here is a hint for the light eaters- don’t order a brioche e gelate unless sharing. Its basically a sweet bread roll with a tiny dab of custard, served with two scoops of ice cream inside and then mine also had cream. Super filling, messy and sweet. It is something you must try once. D and I are eating a lot of ice cream whilst in Italy, but we are sad to leave Sicilian Granita behind. We met up with D again for lunch, and Ermanno insisted we have a Campania pizza each. Of course after my Brioche, I was not overly hungry. With Daiana joining us, we went to Castle Arechi that afternoon where we had a view over all of Salerno.

On Saturday, D and I were alone and adventured by ferry out to the Amalfi coast. We spent the morning in Amalfi, visiting the Crypt of St Andrew and the Duome of Amalfi. We tried to follow a suggested walking path on the tourist map, but started out on the wrong street and ended up way off track. But we visited the paper Museum, as Amalfi was home of modern paper. Off the main street, there are narrow corridors full of steps which make up the back streets.

We jumped back on the ferry to Positano, a bustling town full of American tourists. The streets are lined with merchants and shops selling resort style clothes and jewellery, souvenirs and artists impressions of the town. It would be easy to be inspired as a local artist however, as once leaving the main streets we had panoramic views of the Mediterranean and vibrant pink and purple flowers crept over handrails and walls. We visited two Galleries, The white room, which had modern sculptures and photos- using very unique techniques. The curator was more than happy to tell us about each artist and the method used to get the final effect. Further up we found another gallery specializing in more traditional techniques including a number of oil paintings of Positano. The curator of this Gallery suggested lunch at Bar Bruno, so we climbed some stairs and a hill, and were rewarded by a spectacular view as we ate our fresh seafood lunch. Delicious.

On Sunday, Daiane, her sister and Eleanora showed us around Pompeii. The ruins are huge- more than once can see in detail through one day. We collected an audio guide to help when the girls could not explain. A running joke between us was the quality of their English vs. our Italian.  We visited most of the highlights, and a few different houses trying to avoid the tour groups. While the ruins are well worth the time and energy, I recommend taking a large supply of water, closed comfortable shoes, sunscreen and a packed lunch, it is a long tiring day and Pompeii has little shade to offer.

Monday morning we left Salerno and catch a train to Napoli. Before arriving in Naples, we were warned by Daiana, Eleanora and Ermanno about the level of thievery against tourists, which put me a bit on edge. But, aside from dodgy looking people on the train, nothing happened. Our hotel, the Plaza Bellini  was modern and very swish. Monday was spent at the University, where D met with the academics and presented his work. Ermanno was unavailable to play tour guide so one of his office mates showed us around very quickly, then left us at the hotel.

Naples, unfortunately closes on Tuesdays, so we were unable to visit anything of interest. We had Pizza every night, and I can definitely say Naples has the best pizza in the world. I think a lot of waiters were getting annoyed with us as we continued to order one pizza to share one pasta to share, one dessert, to share.  Most of the dishes are far too big for D and I, who are not huge eaters, and on a limited budget we don’t want to order two pizzas and leave them half eaten.

Wednesday, we left for Rome.

Che notte terribile!

We break from our usual broadcast to report about a shitty night on an overnight train.  While I am running almost a week behind on news updates, like any other current affairs channel, I assure you, this is fresh news about the glamour of cheap travel.

Last night D and I left Rome to travel to Torino (Turin). We checked our luggage into the baggali deposito (bag deposit) and went sight seeing in Rome all day. Our feet and shoulders ached. We had a lovely dinner, and migrated back to the Termini. In Italy, rarely is wine sold by the glass with dinner, which is a pain when only I drink, and won’t go through an entire bottle alone, but usually they offer a ½ lt, or even ¼ lt option. Last night, only the ½ was offered. So I was quite tiddly when we left the restaurant, and we poured the last of the wine into an empty water bottle for the train trip. So classy but I was greatful for it.

Arriving at the terminal, I did a spot of window shopping, then had the desperate urge for the toilet, but alas the nearest one was closed for the night! Trying not to wee myself (remember, I had a fair bit to drink) we walked to another part of the station, into what looked like a janitors cupboard where we found some toilets, as usual for stations- pay to use. I dashed in leaving D to fork out 80 cents. Let me explain- in Italy, most public loos are dreadful! They smell, usually have wet floors, little to no paper, stained bowls, and 99% of the time no toilet seat. Even in restaurants and museums. Paying 80cent for a clean and maintained toilet is well worth it at times.

By this time all the shops and most cafes had closed so we headed to the station part of the termini, and found no seats. 20 platforms, not a single chair or bench. People were sitting on ledges and on the floor or simply standing, but we had  about 1 ½ hours to wait. So we sat on the terminal  floor, with the gum stains and cigarette butts. Everybody here smokes. They’ll smoke everywhere despite the no smoking signs. They’ll bow the smoke in your face and think nothing of it. We wondered why so many people were flouting the ‘no smoking in terminal’ signs, until we saw two policemen smoking in the terminal.

We board out train, and find that we are seating closest to the aisle of a six seat cabin. A group of very loud Italian men are hovering around, whom I presumed to be our cabin mates until  an American mother-daughter team walk in.  They are already regretting this train trip. Only two of the loud Italian men are with us.

This man, oh lordy, was he an inconsiderate prick. Never have I had the urge to deck someone so badly. His travel buddy was friendly enough, tried to talk to D for a bit, and was very proud of his ‘Fresca’ smelling blanket and shirt. He slept the entire night without a peep. He and the prick spread out head to toe, over their opposing seats, which amused mother and daughter. Arsehole then switched out the light, not bothering to ask if we were ready, said something gruff in Italian, and flopped into his bed-thingy. No problem, right?

I was sleeping with my sandals on, in a seated position, hugging my laptop bag with the strap around me. Because of the high occurrence of pickpockets, both our passports were tucked into a second layer of underwear, and I was sort of sitting on them.  I observed even the quite Italian man tuck a wad of cash wrapped in paper towel into his jocks, so we weren’t being overly paranoid. The headrest was unnaturally high, forcing your neck forwards, and as D and I had been staring at roof frescos all day, our necks were already tense. The American had wanted to sit next to her daughter, not opposite, so D swapped with her and I now had a stranger opposite me and was unable to spread my legs far out. It was hot also, and people in the corridor made noise and banged doors. Some slept on the floors to the corridor.  Picture it?

Now, everytime I was about to drop off to sleep, Mr Prick switched the light on, or said something that nobody understood, and/or decided to join his buddies smoking and chatting in the corridor. He did this ALL night, going back to his nest, then getting up, banging around, switching the light on, and disturbing us with his complaints. We protested, but as we are not inconsiderate and the American daughter managed to sleep though most of it, we didn’t get angry loud enough for him to pay attention, Plus he was a big guy, and clearly a very disturbed angry man and scared us girls a bit. Headphones blaring music could not keep him out. Scarves over my head didn’t block out the light, especially because he had to lean over us to get to it.

Finally at about 5.45am, he got up again, switched the light on full and stood in the door to our compartment, I told him to switch the light back off, but he wanted his friend to wake up. His friend woke up when they arrived at the station, 15 minutes later. D had switched the light back off by then.

A short while later, the Americans  got off as well, and D and I thought, YAY finally get to spread out! But alas, two young guys who were on the wrong carriage, and had tried to get into our cabin before we all claimed seats decided now was their chance. They came in, dumped a huge bag on one seat, practically sat on my legs which I had spread to the seat next to me, and took up the four unoccupied seats even though D and I had also spread to them. Was this nightmare going to end?

I managed to get about 30 minutes spread across all the seats in the end, using my laptop and a pillow. D is now fast asleep next to me in the hotel. We decided NOT to book the night train from here to Paris.

Ciao!

 

 

 

Noi pausa dalla nostra trasmissione usuale rapporto di una notte di merda su un treno notturno. Mentre sono in esecuzione quasi una settimana dietro a notizie aggiornate, come qualsiasi altro canale di attualità, vi assicuro, questa è una notizia fresca sul fascino del viaggio a basso costo.
Ieri sera D ed ho lasciato Roma per recarsi Torino (Torino).Abbiamo controllato i nostri bagagli in deposito baggali (deposito borse) e se ne andò visite turistiche a Roma tutto il giorno. I nostri piedi e le spalle facevano male. Abbiamo avuto una cena deliziosa, e migrato torna a Termini. In Italia, è raramente vino venduto al bicchiere con la cena, che è un dolore solo quando bevo, e non passare attraverso una bottiglia intera da sola, ma di solito offrono un lt e mezzo, o anche l’opzione ¼ lt. Ieri sera, solo il mezzo è stato offerto. Quindi ero abbastanza Tiddly quando abbiamo lasciato il ristorante, e abbiamo versato l’ultima del vino in una bottiglia d’acqua vuota per il viaggio in treno. Così classe ma ero grato per questo.

Arrivati ​​al terminal, ho fatto un po ‘di shopping finestra, quindi sentito il bisogno disperato per la toilette, ma ahimè il più vicino era chiuso per la notte! Cercando di non wee me (ricordate, ho avuto un bel po ‘da bere) siamo andati in un’altra parte della stazione, in quello che sembrava un armadio bidelli dove abbiamo trovato alcuni servizi igienici, come di consueto per le stazioni-pay per l’uso. Mi precipitai nel lasciare D a sborsare 80 centesimi. Mi spiego, in Italia, loos più pubblico sono terribili!Sentono l’odore, di solito hanno bagnato, con poca o nessuna carta, ciotole colorate, e il 99% del tempo non sedile del water.Anche nei ristoranti e musei. Pagando 80cent per una toilette pulita e mantenuta è valsa la pena, a volte.

A questo punto tutti i negozi e bar avevano chiuso più così ci siamo diretti verso la parte centrale dei capolinea, e non ha trovato posti a sedere. 20 piattaforme, non una sola sedia o panca. La gente era seduto su sporgenze e sul pavimento o semplicemente in piedi, ma avevamo circa 1 ora e mezza di attesa. Così ci siamo seduti sul pavimento terminale, con le macchie di gomma e mozziconi di sigaretta. Tutti qui fuma.Faranno fumo ovunque nonostante i segni di fumare. Faranno arco il fumo in faccia e pensare nulla. Ci siamo chiesti perché così tante persone sono state violando il ‘no smoking nel terminale’ segni, fino a quando abbiamo visto due poliziotti di fumare nel terminale.

Siamo fuori bordo treno, e scoprire che ci sono posti a sedere vicino al corridoio di una cabina sei posti. Un gruppo di uomini italiani sono molto forti si aggirano intorno, che io presume essere nostri compagni di cabina fino a quando un americano madre e figlia in piedi sono già pentito di questo viaggio in treno.Solo due degli uomini forti italiani sono con noi.

Quest’uomo, oh Lordy, era un cazzo sconsiderato. Non ho mai avuto la voglia di qualcuno mazzo così male. Il suo compagno di viaggio è stato abbastanza cordiale, ha cercato di parlare con D per un po ‘, ed era molto orgoglioso della sua coperta odore’ Fresca ‘e camicia. Ha dormito tutta la notte senza un bip. Lui e il cazzo sparsi testa ai piedi, sui loro sedili contrapposti, che divertito madre e figlia. Buco del culo poi spense la luce, senza preoccuparsi di chiedere se eravamo pronti, ha detto una cosa burbero in italiano, e si accasciò nel suo letto-thingy. Nessun problema, giusto?

Io stavo dormendo con mia sandali, in posizione seduta, abbracciando la mia borsa portatile con la cinghia intorno a me.A causa della elevata incidenza di borseggiatori, entrambi i nostri passaporti sono stati infilati in un secondo strato di biancheria intima, e io era una sorta di seduta su di loro. Ho osservato anche l’uomo italiano piuttosto infilare una mazzetta di contanti avvolti in un tovagliolo di carta nella sua atleti, quindi non erano eccessivamente paranoico. Il poggiatesta è innaturalmente alto, costringendo il collo in avanti, e come D e mi era stato a guardare gli affreschi del tetto per tutta la giornata, il collo era già teso. L’americano aveva voluto sedersi accanto a sua figlia, non opposto, in modo da D scambiato con lei e ora avevo un estraneo di fronte a me e non era in grado di diffondere le mie gambe lontano. Faceva caldo anche, e la gente nel corridoio fatto rumore e sbattuto porte. Alcuni dormivano sul pavimento del corridoio. Immagine vero?

Ora, ogni volta che stava per cadere nel sonno, il signor Prick acceso la luce, o detto qualcosa che nessuno capiva, e / o deciso di unire i suoi amici di fumare e chiacchierare in corridoio.Ha fatto tutta la notte, tornando al suo nido, poi alzarsi, sbattere in giro, accendere la luce, inquietante e noi con le sue lamentele.Abbiamo protestato, ma non siamo sconsiderati e la figlia americana riescono a dormire se la maggior parte di esso, non ci si arrabbia abbastanza forte per lui di fare attenzione, Plus era un ragazzo grande, e chiaramente un uomo molto arrabbiato e disturbato paura noi ragazze un po ‘. Le cuffie a tutto volume la musica non riusciva a tenere fuori. Sciarpe sopra la mia testa non bloccare la luce, soprattutto perché doveva appoggiarsi su di noi per arrivare ad essa.

Infine a circa 5:45, si alzò di nuovo, acceso la luce piena e si fermò sulla porta al nostro scompartimento, gli ho detto di accendere la retroilluminazione spenta, ma ha voluto il suo amico a svegliarsi. Il suo amico si svegliò quando sono arrivati ​​alla stazione, 15 minuti dopo. D aveva acceso la retroilluminazione spenta da allora.

Poco dopo, gli americani scesi pure, e D e ho pensato, YAY finalmente a diffondersi! Ma, ahimè, due ragazzi giovani che erano sul carro sbagliato, e aveva cercato di entrare nella nostra cabina, prima di tutti ha affermato sedili deciso oggi era la loro occasione. Sono venuti in, scaricati una borsa enorme sullo stesso sedile, praticamente seduto su gambe che mi si era diffuso al sedile accanto a me, e prese i quattro sedili occupati, anche se D e avevo anche diffuso a loro. Era questo incubo finirà?

Sono riuscito a ottenere circa 30 minuti diffuso su tutti i posti alla fine, usando il mio portatile e un cuscino. D ora è addormentato accanto a me in albergo. Abbiamo deciso di non prenotare il treno notturno da qui a Parigi.

Ciao!

June 17th-23rd: Sicily.

First of all, I apologise for the huge delay. We’ve been having trouble formatting wordpress.com. Hopefully i have it sorted now, but we’ll see.

During his conference, D met up with a friend of his boss, a Catania resident named Pino. After the conference and along with a small group of other foreigners, Pino escorted us onto Europe’s tallest active volcano, Mt Etna. It was cloudy at the peak, so we skipped going to the top, avoiding the 35euro charge for the chairlift. Instead, we were treated to a pasta lunch in the restaurant, then descended back to Catania.

The craters and view from Mt Etna

 

 

 

 

 

Our hotel was different this time – the Suite Inn Catania – and was closer to the main square and incidentally opposite the food poisoning restaurant. It was a nice hotel, but the concierge on the second night was a slacker who gave us dodgy directions and didn’t man the desk despite us telling him we expected a phone call. It was an early start the next day as Pino took us to Syracuse. We wandered around a Greek amphitheatre, tombs, a slave camp and Roman amphitheatre. A hot summer was just beginning in Sicily, so we took a break for granita before touring around the town, taking in the baroque architecture, beautiful coastline and a gorgeous cathedral. That night Pino’s wife, Angela, cooked us dinner at their home, and I tried a number of spirits – Cinnamon liqueur, Limoncello, local Sicilian red wine, and a few others. Note: for the lovers of big ‘americana’ lattes- you cannot get a decent one here – they taste foul. I have taken to ordering ‘italiana’ style, which is just the espresso shot, then putting some sugar in that (I saw real Italians doing it, so its ok), which is actually very enjoyable once you get used to it.

Piazza Duomo a Siracusa.

The slave area.

Tombs.

The greek amphitheater set up for a show.

The shape of the cave was specifically constructed so the slaves chatter could be heard by their ruler.

The Roman amphitheater, in poor condition.

Roman Baths

Syracusa Coast line

Inside the Duomo (Cathedral)

We departed for Palermo by bus, this took approximately 3 hours. Our hotel was the Hotel Europa, in the designer shopping district – Hermes, Louis Vuitton, Prada – we even walked past a Bvlgari event. We headed to crowded Mondello Beach that afternoon, where we were pushed to find some sand to relax on, but the water and view were spectacular. The bus ride back has unfortunately led me to the conclusion that Sicilian teenage boys are amongst the worst in the world. Rude, inconsiderate and stupid. A theory only confirmed when one jumped and yelled at me the following day for no reason (To be fair, I do see this in Australia also… what do they think they are achieving? Someone enlighten me!) On Monday I was left to my own devices, as D was meeting a professor at the uni. I did what I do best – Shop! Unfortunately, Monday mornings are slow for shopping, with many remaining closed until late in the afternoon. I did manage to buy two tops and a scarf from Sisley and Zara. Returning to the hotel, I rested until later, when I ventured out to find board shorts for D. I found a few labels I liked that are not available in Australia, perhaps when I open my store I will try to stock them? D was shown the Palazzo Steri and the Cappella Palatina(Palatine Chapel) as well as a few other beautiful churches, and on Tuesday we set out, map in hand to find a few more. I find it sad to see such beautiful sites in disrepair, and on dirty streets.

Fontana Pretoria, all statues are nudes and the mayors house is to the right of this photo.

Quattro Canti - all four corners of the intersection look like this.

Palermo Cattedrale (Cathedral)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Over the previous few nights I had been craving risotto and prawns, and I got lucky that night when the chef at La Dispensa dei Monsu cooked up a lemon and prawn risotto especially for us. The entrée was fried pizza pocket/parcels – Buffalo mozzarella with cherry tomatoes and lemon with ricotta were delicious, spinach and other vegetables was a little too bitter. A train to St Stefano di Camastra filled Wednesday morning and part of the afternoon. It is a beautiful seaside town, and our hotel had an exceptional view. Unfortunately, the staff service at the hotel tainted our stay. We will be leaving a negative review on expedia.com.

The beach we swam at, and had a view of.

Our View

The Village.

 

 

 

 

 

It was then back onto the train to Messina. The train wraps around the coast, with a view of the Mediterranean on one side, and country Sicily on the other, quite spectacular.
Messina, the Gateway to Sicily, is a cleaner town than we have seen thus far, although not without its seedy areas. Our map had a walk path marked on it, taking us past the pretty churches and monuments (also up some very questionable staircases) and non-existent fountains.

Messina.

We walked up these dodgy looking stairs.

 

 

 

As our second week ends, we leave Sicily.

Bona sera!

I’m on holiday give me a break…

I have a big post drafted I promise.

Meanwhile, someone on my Facespace linked me to this, and trust me- if you have trouble loading it like I did, stick with it- the blog is hilarious!

Handwashed D and my socks and jocks in the sink and have them draped all over my bathroom. Love it….

Miss Africa, Perth 2011

So instead of a post about me and my travels today, here is a post about my work at home.

The month of may was a busy month for me, organising this trip, working at the shop and fashion styling for my own business. Three Saturdays in a row were dedicated to Miss Africa contestants, working with the talented team of Joachim Guay and Celine Prinoux, photographers and a number of other creative minds.

Five contestants asked for my stylistic help, with the results below.

Nunu, South Sudan.

Umu from Freetown, Sierre Leone

Valerie, from Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo. A joint styling effort with Astrid and Celine.

Mary, from Umtata Mouth, Eastern Cape, South Africa

Sharon from Johannesburg, Gauteng

I stuck around for the days shoot, helping carry equipment, making minor adjustments on location, stopping people from walking into our shots etc. I really enjoy the atmosphere and energy of photo shoots, and love seeing the results after a long days work.

The closest I get to Modelling- Prop holding.

Ankle deep in water.

London Court, end of a long day. All photos by Joachim and Celine.

I also got to know every girl in the contest, and they truly were a beautiful group of ladies. All very smart and with such inspirational stories to tell. I know they have forged friendships with each other.

The final show was held on the 18th, and I was sad to be missing it. At the equivalent time, here in Sicily, I sat refreshing my Facebook page eager for results. Finally, Nunu updated her page- Mary won. Whilst every girl was worthy- I cannot be more pleased with the result. Another of ‘my’ girls, Sharon was runner up. Stoked.

Congratulations to all of the girls, I hope I can work with you in the future.
Ciao!

A week in Malta.

Having recovered from the worst of the food poisoning on Tuesday, Mum and I Ventured out to pamper ourselves. I’ve been promising myself a Mani/Pedi for a few months now, and it has become a holiday ritual away from the shop. We bussed into Sliema, a modernish shopping district with a lot of labels- particularly British.

Bugibba waterfront.

The Maltese busses have a character of their own. Some are from the 1950s and still in operation, they are all orange. The old ones look as if glasses, eyebrows and moustaches would feature on their cartoon selves. They are so much a feature of Malta, they appear on postcards, and canvas totes. Alas, in two weeks they are all to be replaced by new German buses, which are teal. While I’m sure regular commuters will be pleased for cleaner, smoother rides it is sad to see the old ones die.

Wednesday morning we headed to my parents house, which is undergoing serious renovation. It is a tiny place spread over four floors, with each floor barely over a room in size. I shall be keen to see it finished (As I’m sure they are too).

Birgu is one of the ‘three cities’ on the natural harbour. All three cities have retained much of their original walls, and have fascinating histories I’m sure. Birgu was the only piece of Malta not taken by the Turks in (Siege of Malta, 1565)

We ate lunch at a fully vegetarian restaurant, which served the best spring rolls I have ever eaten, and a delicious strawberry bliss smoothy. After a stroll around Fort St Angelo (Home to the last knight of St John) visited the Inquisitors Palace and Malta at war museum. I am sure if I understood more of the Catholic faith, the Inquisitors palace would have held more for me, but it was still fascinating to wander through.

A beautiful street.

The War museum is worth a visit. After being shown a quick propaganda film made by the British, we were led to the bomb shelters by a young Maltese man, who was enthusiastic to share his knowledge. With safety helmets, we then explored the corridors which contained 600 people for several years during the air assault of Malta (Siege of Malta, 1940-1942).

Thursday, my final day saw us catch the bus into Valletta- the capital. The nights hired an architect and planned out Valletta, which Mum jokingly compared to Canberra in Australia. From Valletta, I could better see the layout of the natural harbour and three cities. After a delicious Apple crumble and a few jewellery shops, we visited the Archeology museum (I won’t go into it, but the oldest man-made structure found is in Malta, read about it here) and whipped around the armoury. Unfortunately the State rooms were not open Thursdays, as the same ticket will get you into both, and I hear the tapestries are worth seeing. The armour surprised me in how ornate it was. Beautiful gilding and etching decorates the breastplates- and in some cases- the whole suit. Modern Australian men would consider it a bit Pansy, but perhaps that is why there are no Australian knights.

Guards outside the State rooms and Armoury. They started crossing while we watched.

The most ornate suit I found.

Our final tour was a family home. This was the most charming experience I had on Malta. Mum and I joined the tour with three Japanese girls, who were excited to point out the Master and Mrs of the house in their tour guide. The house had been passed from generation to the next, and accumulated so much history. Knick-knacks, lace, antique silver, furniture and more art then you can possibly imagine. It was a piece of living history, and the head of the house was more than happy to share many family stories. The stories don’t stop either, there are many pictures and sculptures of his daughters, or Lace pieces on loan from the winner of the Lace competition. I could surely go through 6 more times and find new items to ask about, and hear stories of.

I hope this makes up for the lateness, I still have more!
Ciao!

Shorty

Just a short post to say sorry for the lack of post yesterday, and photos are coming soon. I have taken a lot so I need time to edit and choose the best.

Back to Sicily today, time to say farewell to Mum and rejoin D.

Its 5am, and my ferry back to Catania leaves in 2 hours.

Ciao

Bad luck is universal. Don’t take it personally.

(Quote by Solomon Short.)

Our luck continued to decline. D and I found a little restaurant during our adventures that night, and ordered some tasty pizza. Unfortunetly Ds pizza gave him a rather nasty case of food poisoning. So after 21 hours of travelling, and walking around in the sun, poor D failed to get a good nights sleep.

His incarceration forced me to step outside on my own and communicate with the locals. I found the Farmacia, Ferry office, a delicious patisserie, and did a bit of sight seeing on my own. I was quite proud of myself.

The inside courtyard of my hotel.

Villa Bellina

Juxtapositions between new and old, pretty and decrepit.

Basilica della Collegiata

The Farmacia that saved D

San Francesco d'Assisi all'Immacolata

Basilica di San Nicola l'Arena

Sant'Agata alla Fornace or San Biagio with Ancient ruins in the front.

I then packed up and caught the ferry to Malta. The customs system seemed to be to gather anyone with ‘big’ luggage in one room, then let them out after everyone with the smaller bags.
Mum and I wandered around the local area all sunday, stopping to eat crepes. I ended up feeling wretched that night. Hot sweats, shivers, and stomach cramps. Ouch. I spent all day today on the couch recovering.
Feeling better-ish now.
Ciao!

Catania.

I know I only updated yesterday, but heres a quick update telling you all that I arrived in sicily safe and sound. Tired, stinky and a little frazzled, but in one piece.

Unfortunately I failed to arrive in Malta. D and I asked several Italians how to find the bus to Pozzallo, and got pointed in a number of directions. None of these found us the bus. We then retreated to Hotel Catania Centro, where the friendly concierge upgraded D’s room without hesitation. Molto grato!

Catania is beautiful in a broken way. Everywhere you look, gorgeous old buildings have been desecrated with Graffiti, abandoned and burnt. I know a photographer who would adore the many photos this city offers. I look forward to exploring it later this evening (After Siesta!), without my luggage, camera in hand, and no threat of a missed Ferry ride to stop me from taking in its beauty.

Watch this post for photos.

Ciao!

Two hours.

Two hours until the lovely J* arrives to take us to the airport. Last minute checks.

1. Packed? Check.
2. All sharps in main suitcase, not hand luggage? Check
3. Passports, money, ID and all those important things? Check.
4. Travel insurance organised? Check.
5. Power boards, power adaptors, and all necessary power cables? Mostly, still need to pack my laptop (obviously)
6. Spare key to a friend? Check.
7. Mail rerouted to my sister, and an email sent explaining what to open? Check!
8. Real estate agent informed? Check.
9. Bathroom cleaned? Check.
10. Bed made? Check
11. Rubbish out? Check.
12. Oven off? No, we’re cooking Nachos for lunch!
13. Vacuumed? Not check. Yet.

D* and I are in a slight panic mode. What if we’ve forgotten something fundamentally important? I suppose there is not much we can do now. Except vacuum.

Bisoux!