Prossima Fermata, Home.

This is the final entry in the blog devoted to our big adventure; notwithstanding a major drama, the next time readers will hear from us will be back home in Australia. While I’m at it, just a few observations about what Donald Horne once somewhat cynically called, ‘The Lucky Country’. We’ve done an awful lot of travelling the last nine weeks, and seen far too many places to remember clearly. But never too far from my mind was back home. I’ve certainly never considered myself overly patriotic, still don’t, and I’m very critical of the sense of apathy which so pervades much of our country – that ‘she’ll be right mate’ mentally can be as frustrating as it is endearing. However, I can see why many people return to Australia espousing the mantra, ‘it’s the best bloody country on earth’. It may not be the best, but it can’t be too far behind.

They say travel broadens the mind, and I’m sure this is true, but not always is a broadened mind a better mind. In our travels, we’ve encountered many things which have concerned and saddened us. Things like the rampant smoking by young people in Italy and France, the terrible rudeness to others in Italy, and most recently, the complete lack of human decency and concern for others implicit in the ‘business’ – and a business is exactly what it is – of theft from unsuspecting and trusting tourists. Perhaps, in retrospect, that’s the raison d'etre for travel, to remind you of how good you have things at home. I admire greatly those people, usually the young, who can travel for months at a time, only returning home to raise some more money and plan the next adventure. Clearly, I’m not one of these people. As exotic and stimulating the sights and sounds of travel may be, as intoxicating as the thrill of new adventures can become, for us, home is where we feel safest, and most fulfilled – it’s unquestionably where our hearts are.

So, has it all been worth it? Without a doubt. We’ve seen and done things hitherto unimaginable to us. At the moment, our minds are so full of memories we literally find it hard to remember where we stayed at our last city. But in time, the maze of memories will, we think, settle themselves down into some semblance of order, and we will manage to remember the minutiae of details which are presently just a fog.

Has it made us better people? Perhaps, although this is arguable and impossible to prove. In some ways, we have become more stoic and resourceful, but I think we may also have become, paradoxically, less tolerant and trusting. I certainly have no doubts that cultural differences between people across the globe are huge; the idea that there exists some sort of cultural absolutism is ridiculous. Manners are not universal, nor is concern for others, and nor is the idea of a fair go, so ostensibly cherished by Australians (but not always demonstrated). I think we return much more wary and cautious of strangers, which I don’t think to be a positive development. One thing we will undoubtedly return with are lungs full of passively acquired cigarette smoke – it is everywhere, and nobody cares where or on whom they exhale it. 

The other evening, the one of the day on which we had been robbed, we stood on a bridge in Naples eating a pretty cheap and nasty pizza we had purchased for dinner. It was Italy’s most important national non-religious holiday, Republica Day, to celebrate the decision made by the people following WW2 to become a democratic republic. As we looked down from the pedestrian bridge to the absolute mayhem of cars below, horns blasting in a cacophony of deafening noise, and little or no regard for the plight of the person in the car or on the bike next to you, the absurdity of it all resonated with us. I could never live like this, and I wonder what doing so over a lifetime eventually does to you.

Would we do it again? Of course, impossible to answer – at present, probably not, but who’s to know about the future. Personally, although I enjoyed every day, some more than others, I did not need to do this to complete my life. What I did enjoy was being with Alison. After nine weeks together, there was barely a harsh word between us, certainly very little that wasn’t brushed aside after hour an hour or so.  She was dependable, reliable and always by my side to the very end. We did everything together, suffered the best bits and the worst, and came out the other end smiling together. There is probably not another person I could live with 24/7 for 63 days and still be able to call my best friend. She made the trip what it was.

And now some statistics for you. In total, we flew 32,943 kms. By car we travelled almost 4,800 kms. And, by our best estimates, we walked almost 500 kms, or an average of 8 kms per day. It is true that international travel leaves a very significant carbon footprint, and we have certainly contributed to this. I guess once we return we’ll need to do some serious planting to even the ledger a little back in favour of the planet.

Finally, the blog itself. The decision to start a travel blog was taken late, and reluctantly at that. When I decided to keep it, I promised myself that it would be a warts and all account of our trip and our adventure. I couldn’t see the sense in just making a photo journal with a few corny words explaining where we were. Rather, I decided I wanted it to be an accurate and very personal reflection of how we lived the last nine weeks of our lives; our feelings of elation, of homesickness, and even our despair. When we were recently robbed, Alison did not think we should include it on the blog, it was far too personal for her, and I think she felt somewhat responsible for what had happened (which was nonsense). 

However, I argued that if we were happy to share with friends and family what was going well, we needed to trust them with less positive news. I have really enjoyed putting the blog together (although I concede it was perhaps a bit self-indulgent at times), and judging from the emails we have received from readers, you have enjoyed it also. Last time I checked, we had close to 1150 page views over the past 63 days. Not surprisingly, most viewers came from Australia, but we had readers from the UK, Italy, the US, Germany, Bolivia (I think that would have been Pete and Ebie), and one from the Ukraine (just wait until Putin hears about this).

So, the blog will now be put to rest. I’m sure we will enjoy reading it again in a few weeks time, and hopefully it will facilitate the reminiscences which inevitably comes with travel. And to help us along:

Bath, where Roman met Georgian, and our adventure began;

Bristol, our first look at real squirrels;

Swansea, and Alison’s still raving about her Welsh lamb stew;

Colwyn Bay, can that really be a wind farm in the middle of the sea;

Dublin, Guinness and U2 cover bands, what a combination;

Kilkenny, what a time to sprain and ankle, and Alison learns the bodhran;

Cork, rugby and roads just too narrow for Australian drivers;

Kilarney, more beautiful than words can express;

Ennis, some places just don’t warrant too much thought;

Galway, now, was the parking free after 8.00 pm or not, nobody seemed to know;

Donegal, beautiful mansion fit for a king, and a view that went forever;

Derry, nothing but troubles and murals, but a city which really made us think;

Belfast, had a laugh at the comedy, and far too much to drink;

Liverpool, took a ferry, ‘cross the Mersey, and went home in the rain;

Penrith, what they call, ‘The Lakes’, and how serene they are;

Glasgow, avoided the famous ‘kiss’, and really loved this city and its buildings;

Oban, lovely seaside village, but shame about the retirement village;

Inverness, no sight of Nessie, but got ourselves on film;

Aberdeen, grey, grey, grey;

Perth, Scone, where ancient Kings and tourists masquerading as Kings, are crowned;

Edinburgh, Arthur’s seat and plenty of kilts;

Darlington, see Ennis;

York, Roman ghost and one hell of a railway museum;

Birmingham, weirdest library we’ve ever seen, but lovely canals;

Oxford, far too many pretentious students on bikes trying to look learned;

London, Buckingham Palace, Westminster, and a famous circus without any clowns;

Paris, the city of love, croissants and beautiful women;

Marseille, churches with spectacular views, and enthralling games of bocce;

Genoa, strikes, missed trains and two very exhausted Australian tourists;

Verona, over-priced, over-crowded and over-rated Venice, but a lovely lake;

Florence, probably our favourite Italian city, and don’t forget Fiesole;

Naples, the place we’d much prefer to forget;

And finally, Rome, where every building has a story, or rather a thousand stories, to tell. 

Of course, our special thanks go to our good friends and neighbours, Chris and Judith, and Wayne and Heather, who kindly looked after our place and our beloved animals while we gallivanted half way around the world. Without their generosity, none of this would have been possible.

We came across these two ridiculous looking tourists in the park, and just had to take a picture. My god, some people don't know how dorky they look.

Ciao from Roma

Today we arrived in Roma, which of course means we have left Napoli, hopefully for good! It was, quite possibly, the worst city I’ve ever visited (yes, even worse than Yarrawonga). It is filthy beyond belief, and full of seedy looking men who stand around idly looking you up and down as you pass by. The roads are absolutely chaotic, and the drivers and riders act as if there are no road laws at all. In fact, being in Naples you could well understand what human civilization would be like if it were indeed uncivilized.

 

Yes, I know you've seen better photos than this one, but we had to include it just to prove we were here (there is a conspiracy theory circulating on the Internet that we've spent the last nine weeks somewhere in Albury).

These are either ancient ruins 2000 years old, or a DIY project that went horribly wrong.

We have tried to put our experience in Naples behind us, and enjoy our last few days in Rome. AAMI informed us that we were not covered for our lost cash or our Travel and debit cards, so we are now in the lap of the Bank as to what happens. We are hopeful that it will cover our losses, but this is by no means certain. Our last cash is holding out, and we are having to be judicious about what we see and where we go. We are also a bit more careful about spending on food, which means three meals of toast and jam each day (although we’re not skimping on the jam).

 

I think archeology must be the most popular course at Uni here - certainly no lack of fieldwork.

In contrast to Naples, Rome is lovely and we don’t feel at all nervous here. Coming from Naples, we had prepared ourselves for the worst, with backpacks carried on our chests, everything of value moved to where it would be most difficult to steal, etc. In reality, we didn’t need to worry. The railway station was fine and we made it to our lovely accommodation without any problems. The people in Rome are very friendly, and the use of English far more widespread, which makes it easy for us to get around.

Rome looking from the beautiful Borghese Gardens.

Same gardens, different view.

We’ve seen much antiquity since we left Australia, but nothing prepares you for Rome. Everywhere you look, every road you take, there are ancient remains. Alison has wired up a makeshift brace to keep my jaw from dragging on the ground. In around four hours we walked around The Colosseum, The Forum, The Palatino, and more statues than you could shake a stick at. One remain which particularly caught our interest was The Circo Massimo. According to our research, this was the largest entertainment complex ever built by the Romans. The Circo Massimo was used for chariot racing, and even today you can see where this would have taken place – sort of like the MCG minus the goal posts and massive scoreboard.

 

An ancient Roman road marker - I think this one says 135 km to Florence, 245 km to Venice, 345 km to Milan and DON'T, whatever you do, go to Naples!

Tomorrow we plan on visiting the Vatican and the Borghese Gardens, the favourite place for contemporary Romans to relax with nature.  When one of the reception guys at our hotel in Naples heard we were going to Rome, he asked us to say hello to the Pope for him (actually, ‘Pope’ and ‘bongiorno’ were the only two words we understood from him, so god knows what he was asking us to do) . Of course I agreed, and not being one to renege on my word, I am going to see if I can call in on Francis and pass on the good wishes. I know he is a busy man, and it’s not like I’m going to ask him to kiss my feet or anything, so I’m pretty sure he sets aside an hour or so a day for such visitations. I guess we’ll soon find out.

A bronze statue of Marcus Aurelius - the only Roman Emperor ever to appear in a statue on horseback.

Well, I guess it had to happen eventually...

This post doesn’t contain any photos, in fact, Alison was most reluctant to allow me to send it. I’m doing so because I think we have to view everything on this trip in perspective, the good and the not-so-good. It’s all part of the travel experience, nobody is hurt and we have emerged a little wiser for the ordeal.

Today, Alison was robbed at the Naples railway station. The thief must have been so good, she didn’t even know it had happened until we arrived at our hotel some forty-minutes later. She had been as careful as anyone could ever be with her bag around her neck and her hand over it at all times. We are both still struggling to comprehend how it happened, but happen it did.

Sadly, we lost somewhere between 350 to 400 euro, but far more significant, we lost our TravelCard, with 400 euro left on it, and a whopping 1200 pounds sterling. Even worse, our debit card was also in the wallet (a new leather one I just bought for her from Florence). To cut a long story short, we have just lost a very large amount of money, and have only 300 euro to live on until we return on Saturday.

Of course, not everything is doom and gloom. On the hilarious side, we reported the theft to a couple of lazy and totally incompetent Italian policemen, who before we knew it had us in the back of the most beaten up Fiat police car you could ever imagine and whipped us off to the police station, where we made a statement. Honestly, I have no idea how anything ever happens in this country. They were friendly and even jovial, but couldn’t speak much English, their computer kept freezing (damn that Windows 7), and the whole thing reminded me of a vaudeville act. We didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; actually, we’ve done a bit of both).

Seven hours later, the Bank has been contacted and cards cancelled; I guess it’s a matter of waiting now to see what unfolds over the coming days or weeks. You hear some much about identify fraud, it’s a bit scary. In any event, does the world really need another dozen Alison Evanses running around? We’re not sure how much of the lost money we’ll recover, but we are hopeful the bank might come good, if not, that’s what travel insurance is for.

Without a doubt, we are quite flat and feel despondent, but tomorrow is another day. Unfortunately, we don’t feel like doing anything in this city, but I guess you can’t just stay in your room. On the positive side, they can’t do it again, as there is nothing left to steal (at least they didn’t steal Alison, although at current exchange rates, that might have been a better deal).

I must admit, I don’t like southern Italy at all. It is a grubby little place made up of grubby little people. In retrospect, getting off the train from Florence you could see a veritable army of seedy-looking men lined up, obviously surveying their next victim, in this case us. We had only left the station ten minutes when I felt something in my backpack. Sure enough, a local had all the zips open and he had gone through just about everything – if I’d been ten seconds too slow, I’m sure the phone and laptop would have been ancient history. Who knows, this may even have been the distraction to steal Alison’s wallet.

Well, that’s about it. I hope when I next report we are feeling much better. We really just want to return home as soon as possible, but we’ll soldier on until Saturday.

So it's goodbye from me, and goodbye by Florence.

This our final morning in Florence, we leave in a few hours for Naples, and all that remains of nine weeks touring is a handful of days. Yesterday, we did the touristy thing and took the train to Cinque Terre. We had heard so much about these five villages nestled high up on hillsides overlooking the turquoise waters of the Mediterranean, that I think I had built up too perfect an image in my mind of what to expect. Life teaches you that when you expect too much, prepare to be disappointed.

One of the five Cinque Terre villages

 

This part of the coast is most beautiful.

Well, Cinque Terre certainly is beautiful, or at least it must have been once. Unfortunately, tourists these days don’t see that much of it. There were so many people, people waiting to get on trains, people waiting to get off, people waiting for ferries, people waiting for ice-creams and for tables at restaurants, that it was near impossible to take in any of the ambiance of the villages themselves. 

 

It is possible to walk between all villages, but most of the tracks were closed for some reason.

It may have been the fact that we went on a Sunday, a Sunday of a long weekend to make matters worse (Italy celebrates its republic today), or maybe that the weather was so beautiful, but for us, Cinque Terre was just another over-hyped tourist magnet. It seemed to be just another tick in yet another box on the standard tourist card which must be completed for bragging rights when you return home. Throw in ridiculous prices, like 25 euros for Alison and I to take two 10-minute ferry rides, or 7 euro just to be able to use the walking track, and you begin the understand how, in our opinion, places like this have prostituted their hitherto charms for the sake of the tourist dollar. The irony, of course, is that in having done so, they lose the very things which once made them so special. 

On the way to Cinque Terre, we passed some magnificent mountains which had been literally torn apart. It didn’t take us long to figure out that this was marble being quarried, high up in the hills. However, I had to wait until we returned to our accommodation before I could Google more information. 

The marble quarries at Carraran (not my photo - unfortunately).

These were the famous white and grey marble quarries of Carrara, which have supplied Italy with marble for well over 2000 years, in fact, Michelangelo used Carrara marble for his statue of David. Many famous Roman and post-Roman buildings in Italy also used this beautiful material. Interestingly, the marble quarries were the birthplace of Italian anarchism during the late 19^th century. Apparently, conditions for workers here were so bad, that only the toughest ex-criminals and those on the run from the law would work here. They became a very radical group who fought hard to improve the conditions for all Italian workers, and their movement went on to have a significant impact on pre-WW1 Italian politics.

We arrive in Naples early afternoon, and really only have a full day tomorrow there before moving to Rome. We would like to visit the site of Pompei and Mount Vesuvius, but there are also some famous gardens out of town we’d like to see, and the beautiful town of Sorrento, on the other side of the Bay of Naples, also looks like a ‘must see’. The question is, how does one do all of this in very limited time? I’ll let you know how we coped.