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It was unusually warm in France as we headed north to Germany. Like England, they are not equipped to handle the freakish heatwave that had covered most of Europe this year and most of the hotels were not air conditioned, including the one we stayed at on the outskirts of Paris. Refrigerators are not normally standard in hotel rooms either so you could imagine how pleased I was with myself to have our 12/220 volt cooler box. At least we had cold drinks to get us thru the night – too bad we couldn’t fit inside it!

We had no time to stay and enjoy Paris, as we had to be in Hannover for our next house sit in a few days. We did however, manage an overnight stay in Bouillon just over the border into Belgium.

A chance find, not far off our road to Germany and what a stunning, old world town it was. Such a beautiful place in a town we had never heard of before. We stayed in a boutique hotel that was very reasonably priced with a cake shop below displaying some mouth watering cakes and chocolates. The money we saved on accommodation was invested in some very tasty treats for our days drive the next morning.

Our route, coincidentally, took us right through ‘Spa Francorchamps’, the legendary circuit and venue of the Belgium Formula One Grand Prix set in the picturesque mountains of Liège. The race was actually scheduled for the weekend after we were there (rotten luck) so it was a hive of activity as they were setting up. Bad timing for a couple of reasons, apart from the obvious, any other time of the year, I would have been able to drive around the circuit to fully appreciate the steepness of ‘Eau Rouge’, one of the most thrilling corners in Formula One.

By now, I’m sure most of you would be dozing off, like Linda was as she waited patiently in the car while I climbed a hill to catch a glimpse of the track and all of the activity in the pit area as workers were frantically applying the finishing touches. After soaking in the atmosphere for awhile I headed back to the car, where Linda was polishing off the last of our Bouillon delights, and continued on our way to Germany.

When we were hosting international students in Melbourne, we had a German student board with us. Her parents travelled to Melbourne for a visit while she was there so we invited them over for dinner and had got on really well. I remembered them saying that they lived close to the Belgium border, so we made contact with her and despite the short notice, invited us to stay the night and showed us around their town of Bedburg. We had a really nice evening with them and a scrumptious typical German breakfast the next morning.

Our afternoon’s drive got us to Hannover a little too late to drop into our new house sit so we checked into a nearby Novotel and enjoyed a relaxing sauna and spa.

Our new hosts were a young couple, she was French and he was from Sweden. Their one bedroom apartment was on the fourth floor, no lift or air conditioning but fortunately it was a little cooler in Hannover. We were minding their dachshund and Jack Russell for two weeks while they went to visit family in Sweden. The dachshund had recently had back surgery as she had damaged it jumping off the couch. That meant that we had to constantly watch her and she had to be carried up and down the stairs- Did I mention that it was a fourth floor apartment with no lift?!  And of course, being an apartment meant regular walks to the nearby ‘forest’ so they could relieve themselves! We were going to earn this one!

Fortunately, we found an inviting biergarten in the forest (or park) so that gave us ample encouragement for the afternoon walks.

The morning walks (which I performed solo) offered a selection of bakeries and cafes to sit and sip coffee with freshly baked sweet pastries. It was the late evening walks that were a bit of a task but we sometimes used that as an opportunity for one of us to duck into the supermarket for supplies while the other stayed with the hounds to sniff and piss on poles (the dogs that is!).

One of the things we love about Germany, is that you can take dogs just about anywhere. Shopping centres, restaurants, banks, clothing stores. The only place they draw the line at was supermarkets. As we were within walking distance to the centre of Hannover we often took the dogs with us and they were no problem at all (as long as we avoided steps). Sunday markets, shops, restaurants…, we took them everywhere. It still felt wrong walking thru a shopping mall with the dogs in tow. Every shop we went into I’d ask if it was alright to bring the dog and the answer would always be “of course, we love dogs”.

Living so close to the city centre proved difficult in finding a parking spot and as we had chanced one so close to the apartment block, we were loathed to use the car, luckily we didn’t need to because everything was close by. That was until one day we decided to go for a trip to Hameln, about an hours drive away. We packed the dogs in the car and I reluctantly drove away from our prime parking spot. Hameln is best known for the ‘Pied Piper’, a children’s fairytale which apparently, is based on a true story going back to the thirteenth century! I had only vague memories of the fairytale as I was never an attentive student but I got to re-live the story as there was a live performance in the town square which we noticed being set up as we were sitting having cake and coffee. I paid about as much attention to the story this time as I would have at primary school so if you want more detail, you’ll have to ‘Wikipedia’ it!

It was an enjoyable afternoon in Hameln, Linda went shoe shopping with the dogs and I was lured into a bar by a clever sign, that said ‘cold brew’ – repeated four times!

Once our hosts arrived home from Sweden, we cooked them dinner, packed our car and headed to Bremen, to visit Linda’s relatives.

That was our time in Hannover, it was a great opportunity to be city dwellers in a German city for two weeks. We head towards The Czech Republic after Bremen and then back to Italy via Austria, so be sure to keep an eye out for the coming entries.

Our house sit hosts in Saint Simeux were very welcoming. They showed us around the area, took us to lunch at one of their favourite restaurants and even invited us to a party at a chateau owned by one of their expat friends. During our initial tour of the area we drove thru the nearby village of ‘Châteauneuf’ as we were being shown cafe’s and restaurants to visit etc, I stated that the people of ‘Châteauneuf’ (pronounced shat-en-off) obviously do not suffer from constipation! As the words left my mouth, the thought hit me that I did not know these people well enough to come out with an observation as such, but after a few awkward moments of silence, raucous laughter erupted. John and May had a good sense of humour but John was left shattered that he would now never be able to drive through the tranquil commune without mental images of its population sitting on a toilet! You’ve ruined it for me, he bemoaned, in his Irish accent.

The party at the chateau was an absolutely amazing experience. The owner was an elderly English gentleman whose wife sadly passed away several years earlier, leaving him alone in the enormous house that boasted a swimming pool, more rooms than we could count and a cellar with over seven hundred bottles of wine. Kenneth loved a drink and a laugh and that is why he hosted the party, which was well attended by mainly expats, most of whom were known to John and May. John jokingly introduced me to everyone as ‘his brother’! When they looked at me for confirmation it was difficult for me to keep a straight face.

It was a searingly hot Saturday afternoon so when Kenneth asked if anyone wanted to view the cellar, Linda and I, amongst a handful of others within earshot, welcomed the opportunity of going down into the cool haven. The big bonus was sampling some of the liquors Kenneth had made himself from fruit grown on the estate.  As we stood in a circle around a table sipping fine liquors, in the Cognac region of France, Linda and I could not help thinking how lucky we were to land in such a unique situation – This is what we love about travelling.

A few days later, as John and May were packing their car to drive to Bordeaux for their flight to Dublin, Linda and I followed them out to wish them farewell. It was like saying goodbye to long time friends! “Thanks for coming”, I shouted, as they drove off to more laughter.

Saint Simeux was the perfect base to explore the region. We drove to Cognac one day and Angouleme on another. I purchased a 12/220 volt car fridge to store our cold meats and cheeses (and beer) as we travel through France and Germany. It has proven to be a very valuable asset as we can not resist buying so many delicacies when we visit the large supermarkets. We generally have one cooked meal a day and ‘graze’ from our ‘treasure chest’ for the rest of the day. I have usually got a few bottles of wine stashed under the seats but if I run out, no problem, wine is more readily available than milk in France!

We made contact with a friend that we had volunteered with in Cambodia a few years ago. Jo was in Nantes and when we heard that she was travelling to Bordeaux by train, we suggested she stop off in Angouleme and we meet up for the afternoon. We had a great afternoon, sharing travel stories and reminiscing our time in Phnom Phen. As it got later we thought it would be better to invite her back to Saint Simeux as there was a spare room in the house. We were sure John and May would not mind however we felt they should be asked, so I phoned John and sure enough, it was OK with them.

Jo came with me for the morning dog walk as Linda doesn’t ‘do’ mornings. During the walk we ran into one of the locals, an old guy whose English is as good as my French (lousy!). We struggled through a short conversation and he assumed that Jo was my wife. I was unable to explain otherwise so we just left him thinking that was the case. I had a little chuckle to myself imagining Johns confusion when the old boy tells him how he met the house sitter and his young red haired wife!!!

On our way back to the house we stopped at a vending machine outside the local school to pick up a baguette! I had never seen anything like it before. Deposit €1 in the slot and out slides a crunchy fresh baguette! Love it.

We drove Jo to the train station later in the morning to continue her journey to Bordeaux enjoying more of the countryside along the way. We were a little alarmed that no one was at the small remote station when we arrived but several minutes before the train was due, people started to arrived, and then she was on her way.

We thoroughly enjoyed our time in Saint Simeux and got to experience a French provincial lifestyle we may not have otherwise had without house sitting. When John and May returned from Dublin, John asked me if we would stick around till the Tuesday evening as that is ‘Bollocks Night’- A group of guys, including Kenneth, get together for a few beers. The thought frightened me at first, thinking it would be a session of drunken debauchery that would take me days to recover from, but it turned out to be quite civil. Just a few pints and a good catch up- and we were home before dinner!

We also went to a Sunday market (Brocantes) in Vibrac which was a very popular local event with some amazing collectibles and antiques. Our day culminated with drinks and local delicacies in the sunshine.

The next day John and May announced that they were going to sell their house and move to Spain! Quite a shock for us because we thought they were well settled into their lifestyle in France. I certainly hope that crack about Châteauneuf did not influence their decision!

Our next house sit was in Hannover in a little under a week so we needed to make tracks up north and enjoy a little taste of Belgium along the way.

Au revoir France, we will return.

After a relatively non eventful overnight stay in Athens, we boarded our Aegean Air flight to Bordeaux. I’m sure we had previously driven thru the city but this time we had two nights booked so we could have a good look around. Bordeaux was also where we were to pick up our ‘Dacia Duster’, a Romanian built SUV. As Renault own Dacia, it was made available to their ‘Eurodrive Fleet’. We have used the system several times before as it provides exceptionally good value if you need a car in Europe for more than twenty one days. In this case, we took the maximum six months lease.

One of our other options was to to buy an older car, which was very tempting as you can buy a reasonable Mercedes or BMW for a similar amount we paid for the lease. However, with ownership (particularly an eight to ten year old car), comes the risk of breakdowns and unforeseen expenses. The package we decided on offered full warranty and roadside assistance as well as comprehensive insurance with no excess- and yes, I have previously put that to the test and have been pleasantly surprised with the ease and lack of drama of handing back a broken car!

Back to Bordeaux, our Taxi delivered us to our hotel, which Linda had excelled in again. An older style quaint hotel right in the centre of town. Correction…… it was our upcoming house sit host that recommended it, but he told Linda that it was called the ‘The Three Sisters Hotel’, thankfully, due to Linda’s tireless persistence she eventually found the ‘Hotel des 4 Soeurs’! He’d given us one sister too little!!

As we usually do, we spent hours walking around the city admiring the architecture and sampling delicious food, fragrant coffee and of course, the Bordeaux wine. 

A couple of times we left our hotel, we noticed a large queue to get into the building next door. We thought it might have been a show until we found out that it was a very popular (thus the queue) steak restaurant. “Better try it out”, Linda suggested. I was not thrilled about lining up for hours for a meal, especially in a city that had so many restaurants. But Linda had a plan, she found out the sitting times and convinced me that if we got in line by a certain time we would have a minimal wait. That was the case and before too long we were ushered to our table and enjoyed a very tasty steak dinner- no need for menus as there was only one option in the restaurant. Well worth the wait I conceded but I wasn’t too sure about the folk that were still standing in the sun waiting for the next sitting.

We took a ride on one of the impressive city trams along the river to a wine museum, as you do, in Bordeaux. It was a grand modern building in a former industrial area where there was also a lot of residential development, very well planned out taking advantage of the river vistas.  

A very enjoyable couple of days, we could have stayed longer but we had to get moving. After we checked out of the ‘Hotel des 4 Soeurs’, we made our way back to the airport to pickup the car as that is where the Eurodrive agent was located. Local knowledge is priceless, we found a bus to take us to the airport for €1.50 compared to the €60.00 taxi fare on our arrival!

The only difference to leasing from Eurodrive compared to a normal lease back home is that you don’t get a ‘colour choice’. Something that has never concerned us for a 40 odd day lease but as we had to live with this car for six months, we both decided that we didn’t mind what colour it was as long as it wasn’t white! Guess what colour it was? Apart from that, it was just what we needed and will be referred to from now on as ‘Dustie’. Ample luggage area with a blind for security, satellite navigation, diesel economy and a 12V power outlet at the back for the fridge I was planning on buying. The annoyingly noticeable thing about the car is the red number plates. The vehicles are only registered for the term of the lease as they are sent to an auction house on return. The plates are very unique and draw a lot of attention. As they have the ‘F’ below the ‘Euro Circle’ we felt the need to place an ‘AUS’ sticker on the back window so everyone would not presume we were French (not that there’s anything wrong with that!) but many people still greet us with ‘Bonjour’! It’s not a bad thing really, if I do something wrong on the road, I shrug my shoulders with raised hands and say “we are French”.

We had one more day before we were due at our house sit in Saint Simeux so we drove to the beachside town of Arcachon for lunch and possibly find accommodation there for the night. Even Linda was struggling to find something, the height of the summer season was approaching and everything was booked out so we phoned our new host and he suggested we head directly to their house, about a two hour drive away.                                                                      

What a stunning region. Grape vines as far as the eye can see, rolling green hills – in Summer! Our sat nav successfully guided us to Saint Simeux: a tiny commune with just a few houses, a non-active winery and a church with no priest!

John and May were from Dublin, retired and living in France. It was immediately obvious what drew them to the area. Their house was set high on a hill looking down at their garden across the street and to the river and vineyards beyond. Very quiet and tranquil. That was until their dogs start barking. Bubbles, a mature aged Jack Russell and Croi, a puppy ‘White Alsatian’ already 25kg and growing. John is your typical witty, jovial Irishman who loves a beer and some good company so I think they were happy about us coming earlier to show us the ropes and enjoy a bit of Craic.

Taste of St Simeux- stay tuned for the next episode

Our house sit hosts were going to their apartment in Northern Cyprus. Being an apartment, it was not conducive to housing four large dogs and four cats. That’s where we came in. It was a baptism of fire for a couple of rookie house sitters.

We arrived a couple of days before they took off so we could learn the exercising and feeding routine. Werner took me on the beach run with the four dogs in their 4WD Ute. It was about a twenty minute drive from their house, past a military base and onto the salt plains. That’s where we let the hounds loose! The four of them, barking excitedly ran off in all directions while we continued to drive another two kilometres to the beach, slowly, over sand hills tooting the horn regularly and screaming out their names. It was sheer madness! I really wished Linda had come along on the trial because I knew she was going to freak the first time we did it ourselves. The oldest of the dogs, a basset hound appropriately named ‘Fred’ would lag behind trotting with his little legs at his own pace, sometimes falling so far back we would lose sight of him. “Don’t worry” says Werner, “he always turns up”. When we arrived at the beach, a couple of them jumped into the waves and the other two scoured the sand hills.

Then, after I’d had a swim (because one of the girls won’t go in unless you go with her) we got the treats and water out to lure them back to the car. All fairly straight forward as its routine for them. The important thing I had to remember was the order to let them back into the car. Old Fred liked his spot by the window behind the driver and if anyone else was sitting there they’d be hell to pay!

On the way back to the house Werner pointed out a supermarket that provided ‘free beer’ from a keg at the entrance. What a brilliant idea! I Knew immediately where we were going to doing all our shopping.

Nicki and Werner were all set to leave. It’s a bit weird seeing people off from their house as you go back inside. But we have had a thorough run down on exercising the dogs, feeding the cats and how to access the community pool. The cats were going to be easy but did I mention that one of the older cats was totally blind? The first night we were there, we could hear a cat meowing loudly. It was Mischief (the blind one) sitting in the middle of the street out the front demanding that I carry him inside! I could sense from that moment that Mischief was going to be high maintenance.

Then came time to do our first ‘beach run’. A blisteringly hot afternoon, as they had been in Cyprus, we prepared the snacks and filled bottles with water, systematically loaded the dogs into the ute and headed for the beach. As I expected,Linda was beside herself as I let the dogs out and proceed to drive off tooting the horn. One of them ran like a greyhound and liked to chase cars. So on the rare occasion a car drove past in the opposite direction, she’d be off, trying to chew it’s rear tyres! Then Linda discovered that Fred had disappeared out of view, and nearly had a meltdown. But shortly after we arrived at our designated place on the beach, they started appearing one after the other, with old Fred bringing up the rear.

After a swim we gathered them up with the treats and they lapped up litres of water. I was so excited about rounding them all up, that, as I opened the door to let them in, there was an almighty shitfight with growling and snapping! Yes, I had forgot about Fred’s special seat and he paid out on the other male dog that dared to sit in his place. No blood or missing teeth so all was good. A quick head count and we were on our way.

I mentioned to Linda that we needed to pick a few things up from the supermarket, so she waited in the ute with the soggy, sandy dogs while I darted inside. Sure enough, there was a keg at the entrance and a bowl of crisps! I poured myself a glass and, conscious of Linda waiting in the car, drank it down so quickly I gave myself ‘brain freeze’. Karma, I guess!

We thoroughly enjoyed our first house sit and besides Mischief pushing a statue onto the floor, a mirror falling off the wall and a garden hose bursting, we managed to present four dogs, four cats and a house that was still standing to the owners on their return, so I do believe we succeeded.

We did manage some sightseeing during the week, with a drive into the Troodos mountains one day and a trip to Paphos on another, as well as a trip to ‘old town’ Limassol.

When Nicki and Werner arrived back from the north they kindly treated us to a meal at one of their favourite restaurants. It was the night of the moon eclipse and as we dined outdoors it made for a very pleasant evening.

We booked an apartment in central Larnaca for our final two days in Cyprus. That gave us the opportunity to catch up with Mark and Jane (from Santorini) who had been staying in Larnaca, for a meal. We were able to provide them with travel tips for touring Cyprus while they provided us with some useful information for our upcoming visit to France.

Having collected our suitcase from the apartment of our initial stay in Larnaca, it was off to the airport for our flight to Athens where we had an overnight stay before flying to Bordeaux.

Overall, a pleasant, interesting stay in Cyprus with the coincidental opportunity to experience our first house sit in Europe.

See you in France.

The reason we chose Cyprus as our next destination was to extend the time Linda could stay in Europe. Although Cyprus is part of the European Union, it is not part of the ‘Schengen Agreement’ which basically means the time spent in Cyprus can be added to the time Linda was allowed to stay in Europe. This was necessary for us to honour a house sit we had committed to in Germany and get us back to Malta to finalise the residency application. Apart from that, it is  somewhere we hadn’t been before and we always enjoy discovering new places.

I could think of worse places to be holed up for a few weeks! The weather was good, the people were friendly and the country has an interesting history. For those that don’t know, Cyprus is a country of its own and not in fact part of Greece. That is the South anyway. The northern part of the island is occupied by the Turks. Prior to the Turkish occupation in 1974 it was under British rule and therefore still has a number of British expats living there. We quickly learnt about the animosity between the two sides when we were trying to rent a car to tour the Island. The Southern rental companies wouldn’t allow their cars into the north and the Northern car rental companies wouldn’t allow their cars to enter the south!

That had thrown a spanner in the works. We had to rethink our strategy. We really wanted to see more of the north but without a car it was going to be difficult so we settled on a few days in Kyrenia, on the northern coast. The owner of the apartment where we spent the first few days in Larnaca very kindly offered to look after our large suitcase because we decided to take the local bus to the capital city, Nicosia and didn’t want to be lugging unnecessary luggage with us. Nicosia is a large inland city and is where the major border crossing to the TRNC (Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus) is located. Nothing like mixing it with the locals. We could of got a private car for about €60 but the bus was only €4 each and thankfully it was air conditioned. Ater a two hour ride we were deposited at the bus terminal in the centre on Nicosia in the heat of the mid afternoon. The plan was to walk across the border and get a bus or a taxi to Kyrenia. We hadn’t counted on there being such limited information as to the direction of the crossing, so we had to rely on google maps to navigate ourselves across with our two roller bags in the searing heat. I wouldn’t be telling the truth if I said it was a harmonious walk. There were a few disputes as to what direction we should have taken but we eventually stumbled across an area that looked vaguely like a border crossing. It was very weird, derelict buildings lined the two hundred odd meters distance known as ‘No Man’s Land’ or ‘The buffer zone’ in fact, like an oasis, there was a cafe right in the middle! Can’t imagine who they pay their rates to! But we took the opportunity to have a breather and a cold drink.

Having cooled down, we continued our walk to Northern Cyprus, presented our passports and were granted entry without a fuss. We were even given directions to the nearest taxi rank. It wasn’t long before we were greeted by a man who spoke reasonable English and offered to take us to Kyrenia for marginally more than the lady at the hotel suggested it might cost, and as he had a nice ‘S’ class Mercedes that was refreshingly cool and comfortable inside so we weren’t even slightly interested in finding out about a bus. The couple at (Hotel Mimi), where we were booked into, used to live in Melbourne. Mimi was the daughter of the owners of the complex and she, along with her Filipino husband and young child left Australia returning to Cyprus to help manage the hotel. Alister, the husband, was absolutely delighted to have someone from Melbourne stay and quickly became our best friend. He recommended places to eat and things to see, he just couldn’t do enough for us. I detected a little homesickness! He was right on the money with a place called ‘Ezic Peanuts’ on the waterfront. They served salt encrusted peanuts to snack on while enjoying a frosty beer, there was a hole in the middle of the tables to throw your discarded shells to fall into a tray below. The food was nothing special but the place was very novel and I loved the beer and peanuts.

Many of the reviews we read discouraged eating at the restaurants surrounding the picturesque horseshoe shaped harbour suggesting they were too dear. We went against their advise the following day and had lunch at one of them. A delicious fresh seafood lunch for the equivalent of about AUD$22!!! I think we proved them wrong. It was much cheaper in the North and the exchange rate of the Turkish Lira to the Australian dollar at the time was favourable to us.

Our first house sit wasn’t supposed to be until we arrived in France, however, Linda checked the website she uses to find housesits and there was a requirement in Limassol on the southern side coincidentally, the week we were planning on being there anyway. We applied immediately and after a quick Skype meeting we were all happy for it to happen in a little less than a week. That gave us just enough time to go back to Nicosia and stay there for a couple of days to have a look around. It happened to be the anniversary of the Turkish occupancy and learnt that there is still a lot of bitterness, with good reason. There were many Greek Cypriots that were forced out of their houses and moved south. There was actually a demonstration at the border on the day of the anniversary which we were a little concerned about but it was quite peaceful. The Saturday arrived where we were to meet out house sit hosts. We rented a car in Nicosia for the balance of our stay in Cyprus to drop off at Larnaca airport when we were to fly out. The drive to Limassol was a pleasant two hours and we found Niki & Werner’s house without too much trouble. Nicki is originally from South Africa and Werner was from the UK. They are both retired having worked in Dubai for many years. The sign at the front of the house said ‘Welcome to the zoo’, and it wasn’t too far from the truth. Four big dogs and four cats, one of which was totally blind! Had we bitten off more than we can chew?

You are going to have to wait.

Linda had been to Santorini before- I should have been there but the excessive indulgence on the neighbouring island of Ios while travelling with friends in the eighties, resulted in too big a hangover to even consider a ferry ride to Santorini, every morning it was suggested. So when friends (two of whom were part of the 87’ Ios contingency) suggested we meet up with them along with more than a dozen others, some of whom were celebrating 60th birthdays in 2018, Linda and I looked at each other and said “Why not?”. Thanks Sean and Emily, that was the catalyst of our decision to plan this journey we are on with the focus of the G.O.D. (Growing Old Disgracefully) week in Santorini being one of the highlights.

Our flight from Rome arrived a little late, a bit inconvenient actually because the British Grand Prix had just started as I was standing by the carousel waiting for our luggage, with a phone pressed to my ear, getting caught up in all the excitement of the first lap chaos. Perfect scenario for collecting the wrong bags or being pickpocketed but fortunately, Linda was sat far enough away not to be embarrassed but close enough to keep an eye on me. I didn’t get to see much on the drive to Oia because it was a cracking race and we arrived at the hotel just in time to see the podium presentation on the TV – bugger. The Aisling Micro Hotel Linda had booked months earlier was very novel. Micro because there was only five rooms in the hotel, not because we had to crawl along on our hands and knees. It was ideally located on the promenade and featured a magnificent view typical of the many postcards you see of Santorini. The room was very white, including the furniture and the floor! The Jacuzzi and shower were elevated and occupied about a third of the room. The French windows in front of the jacuzzi, when opened, offered a panoramic view of the Aegean Sea. I knew I was going to enjoy staying there for a week. Worlds apart from some of the ‘hole in the wall’ places we had been staying in, (Telese Terme being an exception), and Sean & Emily’s Hotel was just across the promenade! Viewable from our balcony that breakfast was served on everyday. I don’t know how Linda does it!

Sean’s brother Michael and his wife Annette holiday regularly in Santorini and therefore became the unofficial ‘social directors’ and duly organised a welcome sunset dinner for the eighteen of us down at Ammoudi Bay. The G.O.D. group was always going to be a rowdy one. Some we had just met but had close connections with from my early years and some we hadn’t seen for many many years. Although we only represented Australia and England, we had all ascended from different parts of Europe arriving methodically like olympians, that afternoon and the day prior. Let the games begin!

Even though we were one of the largest, thirstiest, loudest tables by the seaside, the first night was relatively mild and once we got back up to Oia, most wanted to go to a bar and watch the World Cup finals so Linda and I opted to go home and watch the moon glistening on the sea from our jacuzzi.

The week was an extravaganza of sunshine, long lunches and wine fueled dinners. None more memorable than the Armeni Restaurant, recommended to us by the host of one of the couples in our group. Not a popular restaurant, we expect for no other reason that it was accessible only by donkey track or by boat arranged by the owner- we chose the latter.

Let me tell you a little about the owner, I can’t remember his name but let’s just call him Demetrius because he was the epitome of a Greek taverna owner. He was a large man with a thick moustache and the signature blue and white striped shirt. The restaurant was nothing fancy but sat right the water’s edge, and they encouraged a swim prior to dinner. Once seated, the jovial Demetrius, who was very entertaining, arrived at the head of our table with an assistant carrying a large bucket of fresh fish. He began displaying each fish and explaining them, in way too much detail, all one after the other. We finally settled on the largest fish which apparently, was a deep water fish and said to be very rare. The skeptic in me figured it was rare because it was the only one he had and that the word ‘rare’ just appreciates its value. But I have to admit, it was up there with one of the most succulent, fresh, tasty fish I have had.

The night was a hoot and we had stayed so long we were the only table left, although I think there was only one or two other tables anyway. Demetrius, in his loud bellowing voice, announced to us that the traffic on the road back up to Oia was gridlocked and our only chance of getting home was to climb the donkey track as unfortunately, the donkeys had knocked off for the night! – a very daunting task. But with enough wine in us, we saw it as a challenge. Not only did we have to contend with the lack of lighting, the piles of smelly donkey poo, steep rocky stairs and the balmy evening but some of us saw it as a time trial and needed to be the first to the top. We all made it successfully to the top (some faster than others!) but needed a few bottles of water (and cleansing ales) 

To top off a grand week, our forward thinking ‘social director’ had chartered, several months earlier, a catamaran for the eighteen of us to circumnavigate the Island on, culminating with a sunset viewing on the western side.

Something I had been looking forward to for a long time. It wasn’t until just a few days before we set sail that Linda agreed to tough it out as she is not a friend of floating craft and just about gets sea sick in a bathtub! Guess who starting feeling queasy just as our bbq lunch was served? I never get seasick!- it must have been something I ate the day before, or more likely, drunk. I eventually came good as the day went by and even managed a beer or two. I was by far, the soberest sailor on the boat.

 

It was a great week, not only catching up with and spending time with friends but being able to have a conversation with someone other than ourselves without google translate or using mime. But, it was time to move on. We shared a car with Sean and Emily to the airport- they were flying to Athens for a few days before going home and we were headed for Cyprus, coincidentally, on the same flight as Mark and Jane (Friends of Michael) who had planned to stay for several weeks before heading back to France where they were doing a year long sojourn.

Keep an eye out for the ‘Cyprus’ edition. If you want to be alerted by email when new posts are added, drop us a note in the ‘feedback’ section with your email address and I’ll add you to the ‘non and infrequent Facebook users’ list.

 

Matera is going to be a tough act to follow, but we were up for the challenge. We were heading for the Adriatic coast. We had received advice to go to Pescara but we thought it might be too popular with the tourists and decided to go to the lesser known city of ‘Barletta’. Not a long drive from Matera but it was a hot day and I was looking forward to plunging into the sea which was close to the tiny house Linda had booked for two nights. A unique dwelling, as we entered the front (and only) door we were confronted with three narrow steps leading up, to an open kitchen/dining/lounge area, and six narrow steps down, to a large basement bedroom/ensuite. Not something I think we could live in but it was perfect for the next two nights.

As we walked around the seemingly friendly town it became evident that we had made a wise decision in avoiding the masses, and we tried to mingle in with the locals, but I’m sure most of them could tell we were from out of town and probably wondered what the hell we were doing there!

If you remember our ordeal with the Carabinieri a couple of editions ago and how we had to have some documents certified so ‘Births, Deaths and Marriages’ in Melbourne would release a marriage certificate extract, we had ordered to be sent to Malta. Well, it was a complete waste of time! Because it was Linda’s ID we had certified but it was me that had placed the order- they wanted my ID certified! Of course they wouldn’t accept us cancelling the order so Linda could reorder, so we had to endure the whole painful exercise again. This time we thought we’d take advantage of the friendliness of the good folk in Barletta and also decided to approach the local Police department as opposed to the more stringent Carabinieri.

So there we were on a sunny afternoon, no doorbell this time, we waltzed right into their office and were greeted with a welcoming “Buongiorno”. So far so good, but you must remember that few tourists stray to Barletta and the level of their English was probably less than we had encountered with the Carabinieri. We started talking to two officers but they were gradually calling colleagues over to help work out what we wanted. It got to the stage where there were too many of us in the tiny office so we all spilled into the street with a lot of hand gesturing and multiple people talking loudly at the same time. I remember catching Linda’s eye and I am sure we were both thinking “How do we get ourselves into these situations and why it it always so difficult?”. Eventually one of them, I think he was a Sargent, got on the phone and rattled away for a minute or two before handing me the phone! It sounded like a young woman and she spoke English but still had trouble understanding what I was wanting from the police. “One moment”, she said, “I will come to the police station”. “Where are you?”, I asked, hoping to get an understanding of how long she would be. “I am at the beach”, she replied, sounding a little embarrassed. Well, we waited and waited out the front of the police station along with about half of the taskforce, who had been assigned to our case, for almost an hour. I would look at the driver of every vehicle that approached expecting to see a woman, possibly in uniform, stop at the station. Eventually, a car stopped just past the station and out popped an attractive girl wearing just a light shirt over a bikini! Argh, that can’t be her I thought, but she walked right up to us. We guessed she might have been a daughter of a policemen or the Sargent and one of the few in town that could speak English, and that was why she was summoned from the beach. I quickly realised why all the guys were hanging around and not doing something more important, they obviously knew what was going on. She was actually quite bright and was able to translate our request, and while it was understood, out came the “Why?” again. With the assistance of our ‘beachgirl’ we were able to explain. “How long have you been married”, the Sargent asked, and we promptly answered. “You don’t get that long for murder in Australia”, I nearly blurted out. Fortunately my brain performed a quick assessment of the situation, and how the word ‘murder’ could trigger an alarm to seriously jeopardise our proceedings, which then sternfully instructed my mouth to remained firmly shut.

Our afternoon’s work was rewarded with a cool Aperol Spritz at a local bar and a feast of fresh mussels back at our tiny home, bought from a gruff looking old fella selling them from a wet sack in the piazza near our house for the bargain price of just €1.00 a kilogram!

With just the coast to coast drive to arrive at our final destination in Rome, we planned one more stop to break the journey. I chose a place named Telese Terme because I liked the name and its proximity to Rome for the final days drive. Linda had excelled again and booked what I think was the best value accommodation so far. It was an entire villa, or mansion would probably be more appropriate.

High in the hills about ten minutes out of town in an olive grove. The three level building had four bedrooms, three massive living areas, two terraces and a well equipped kitchen. It sat high on a hill overlooking olive trees, grape vines and the owners’ residence adjoining their olive oil processing plant. It was true serenity!

The house was so large Linda and I would lose each other! It seemed wrong to stay there just one night so we messaged the owner to say we’d stay two nights. We didn’t need to see anything in Rome as we’d both been there before and the idea of having a ‘chill’ before a big week ahead in Santorini was definitely in order.

It was almost sad leaving after the two days, the owner and her daughter arrived to see us off and collect the keys. They presented us with a little gift and a one litre metal container of their olive oil! A wonderful gesture and under different circumstances we would have happily accepted and put it to good use. Sadly we had to explain that we were flying out of Italy the next day and were limited to what we could carry on the plane, therefore having to reluctantly decline the container of oil. I don’t think they fully understood our reason and we were left wondering if we should have just accepted it and passed it onto a worthy sole in Rome.

We returned our trusty little Aygo to rental agency in the multi level car park at Fiumicino airport in Rome, over one thousand kilometres and twenty three days since leaving Catania, without a scratch. Given the chaotic traffic conditions and the unsealed roads (shhhh!) we drove, a commendable achievement I thought.

And we arrived at the terminal, comfortably in time for our flight to Santorini.

Arrivederci Roma. 🇮🇹 😘

 

It is going to be difficult translating the beauty of Matera into words. It was another place recommended to us and we were totally gobsmacked by its charm and character around every corner while walking through the maze like streets and lane ways.    Matera is a city on a rocky outcrop which includes the Sassi areas that are basin like complexes of cave dwellings carved into the mountainside.

It also has a very interesting history having been evacuated in the early fifties due to the slum like, poor living conditions. It wasn’t until the eighties that Artesians started moving back into the Sassi setting up workshops which in turn created a demand for bars, restaurants and boutique hotels to open. The Unesco designation in the nineties and the filming of The Passion of the Christ were some of the things that initially kicked off its tourism industry but it wasn’t until 2014 when the city was awarded the European capital of culture for 2019 (which Valletta was awarded for 2018) that things really started to take off. Having said that, we found that it was very quiet and wasn’t overrun with tourists despite their major festival of the year being staged there that week. The local tourism office is very conscious of what is happening in Florence and Venice where the ‘airbnb’ thing is the subject of controversy, being criticised for driving the locals out due to high rental prices, so are determined to avoid that happening in Matera.
Linda booked a Hotel near the centre of town for a week to include the festivities of the Della Bruna festa which has taken place in Matera for over 600 years. This extraordinary festival in honour of Patron Saint, Maria Santissima della Bruna includes a succession of bands playing in rotundas set up in the piazzas all weekend culminating with a procession of costumed horsemen and a float carrying the statue of della Bruna on the Monday. It seemed that every man, woman and child from the city and surrounding areas lined the streets with excitement while the local television station covered the event with a live transmission! We could not believe how we landed in this city coincidentally in time to be treated to the spectacular activities, surprisingly, with reasonable accommodation costs and friendly, proud hosts.
Even the plentiful restaurants that served traditional local dishes were reasonably priced.

It was the Friday evening, after leaving a restaurant carved into the rock at the bottom of the Sassi (that we frequented on more than one occasion) that we heard music filtering down the otherwise quietness of the Sassi basin, so we curiously climbed the stairs to the main piazza. As we climbed, the music became louder and clearer. We recognised the music as being ‘Ave Maria’. Now, I do not consider myself as a religious or musical person but the music was mesmerising and when we reached the top we were confronted by the enormous crowd enjoying the elaborate light show to the thundering sound of Ave Maria- I actually welled up a little! It was absolutely amazing.

Each of the days we stayed there we would walk and climb the stairs of both Sassis visiting the churches, some carved into the rock and some, conventional structures. A typical cave dwelling had been resurected and furnished as they were when inhabited prior to the fifties. Chickens were kept under the bed, horses and donkeys in the corner and children sleeping on their parent’s bed, with their dogs, to keep warm!
The Monday of the procession arrived and we took position with the thousands of locals that look forward to this one day of the year. The float I mentioned earlier, had commenced its construction almost twelve months earlier. It was made of light timber framework, chicken wire and papier-mâché and carried the statue of della Bruna borrowed from the main church. As the procession, led by the costumed horsemen and carriages carrying dignitaries culminated at the church, and the statue was carefully removed from the float, the frenzied crowd of mainly young men then broke through the circle of security guards and violently destroyed the float while everyone scrambled to collect a piece of the wreckage to souvenir as they believed it brings them good luck! An amazing spectacle! We had miraculously found an outdoor table to enjoy a drink and watch the crowd disperse, many with bits of broken float in hand, including a young lad who asked us to look after his piece of broken wood (we presumed) while he went into the cafe. “Yeah, no worries mate, I’ll look after it for you”, I said. With that, he rolled his eyes, picked up his piece of wood and ran off down the road! Obviously didn’t trust me!
As we were packing our car preparing to leave, a soccer ball bounced past us which came from what we presumed to be a school behind a high fence. It took me three attempts but I finally managed to kick it back over the fence. A short time later, Linda noticed a guy accompanied by three boys walk around the corner. “That will be a teacher looking for the ball”, Linda said. Don’t know how she knew that but that was exactly the situation. I began explaining to them that I had kicked the ball back over the fence by demonstrating my kicking style and using my slow clear pronunciation in the hope of being understood. “Thank you very much”, the man replied while one of the boys ‘high fived me’. Turned out their English was very good and I was left feeling a little silly but we had a bit of a chat and the teacher was very interested in our travels recommending other places we should visit.
That was Matera, if I have done well enough describing this outstanding destination for you to want to visit, please do so. But don’t tell too many people about it, let’s keep it our little secret.

With the car packed, we pointed the Aygo seaside, Adriatic that is. Stay tuned for ‘Baletta’
Caio

 

 

It’s been long time between drinks! Hoping you haven’t been holding your breath waiting for this but we have been far to busy travelling and having fun! I believe we left you in Syracuse. The fortified island of Ortigia that is accessible by bridge from Syracuse and is the historical centre of the city. We enjoyed a relaxing weekend there wandering the narrow streets and sampling some traditional family operated restaurants- some selected on instinct and some recommended. Being the weekend also gifted us the opportunity to shop at the fresh food market where we bought the ingredients to cook our own meals. Amongst other items we bought some fresh chillies which the stall owner described as ‘Etna Chillies’ I thought she was being a bit gimmicky at the time but when I put a few too many in my ‘Spaghetti Aioli’ our heads nearly erupted!!

After we left Syracuse we drove 100 km out of our way to do what everyone should do when they visit Sicily – spend a day at the outlet mall! I say that with heavy sarcasm!. But, it was me that walked away with a new pair of Geox shoes and Armani jeans while Linda was empty handed.

After a long day of driving and shopping we parked ourselves in a small hotel in the seaside town of Giardini Naxos. It was a hastily made booking organised by yours truly. When we were shown to our room, that was marginally bigger than the box my new shoes came in, with a bathroom that was down the hall and downstairs next to the common dining room, I immediately offered my resignation as ‘co accommodation planner’. A stroll into town revealed lots of bright lights and rows of hotels filled with tourists that seemed to be the type that would fly in and feel they were being adventurous by leaving the confines of their resorts to visit one of the many restaurants while being entertained by the trio of travelling musicians, piano accordion and all.

While having breakfast the next morning, Linda asked the lady at the hotel about the village on top of the mountain overlooking Naxos. ‘That is Castelmola’, she replied. It looked like a bunch of buildings perched on top of a rock, it didn’t seem possible to drive up there, especially in our little Toyota Aygo (I wanted to write the word ‘slowly’ under the Aygo badge! It wasn’t too bad on the freeway once you wound it up but it didn’t like hills). ‘I want to go up there’, Linda announced. Myself and the Aygo were not so sure, but before we knew it, Linda had researched and booked us into a hotel at the very top of the mountain so off we went. We stopped about halfway up at a lookout. The view was magnificent and the air was fresh. “Not a bad idea after all” I was beginning to think so off we went for the remainder of the climb. Second gear was as far as we were going on that leg. In fact I had to slam it back into first for some of the many hairpin corners and even then it was running out of puff! It was all about giving it a bag full of revs and keeping the momentum otherwise it was a matter of rolling back and having another go. As we got close to the summit there was a large car park with a uniformed dude and a ticket machine. Beyond the car park was a sign that said “Do not enter” or “No cars beyond this point”- Our Italian is very poor but we could work out the sign indicated one or the other….. So we continued on! That was until we were confronted by a policewoman outside a church, who we thought was going to give us a right barreling. In my very best Italian accent I told her the name of the Guesthouse we were booked into. With that she smiled, made a phone call and directed us down the winding road where about three minutes later we were confronted by a man on a Vespa riding towards us. He gave us a wave, did a U turn and gestured us to follow- Turned out he was the Guesthouse owner and the call the policewoman made, was to alert him of our arrival! We felt very welcome. Our room, with low (head banging) rafters, was on the very top floor accessed by a narrow stairway. ‘How were we going to get our fat suitcase up there?’ I feared. Not a problem for our ingenious hotel owner: He simply lowered the cable of his homemade electric winch, shouted at Nona down below to hook the suitcase up and hoisted it to the the top floor. After this effort, we felt obliged to commit to an extra night- And why wouldn’t we? With a commanding view of the coastline and the smoking Mt Etna in the distance we could have stayed a few days.

 

A stroll through the cobble stoned town offered many surprises. None more than Cafe Turrisi. It is known as ‘The penis bar of Sicily’. It is completely obsessed with penises and phallic symbols. We didn’t fully understand the reason behind it but the passion and dedication to honouring the penis was amazing. From the penis shaped menu to the numerous statues and even the penis outline on the bespoke floor tiles throughout the three levels demonstrated a huge amount of thought and detail that had gone into the place. Just when we thought we had seen everything, a trip to the toilet not only featured a penis shaped mirror but custom tap-ware featuring a penis shaped spout and ball shaped tap handles representing the testicles- I was grateful that no one else was in the bathroom as I was feeling uneasy spinning the taps and anxious as no water was coming out! Linda later told me that there was a foot operated pedal to activate the water flow- leaving me feeling very silly as well as embarrassed.

We are going to leave you with these images and you are going to have to wait for ‘Part Two’ to find out if we have encountered any other bodily parts in cafe’s or bars!