- Almost five months might seem like a long time, but it is no time at all. Three months in Italy whizzed by, and there were major parts of the country we avoided all together. Still, we know how lucky we are to have had this amount of time.
- With time to reflect, most of all I wax lyrical about Jordan, and Puglia. Jordan for its unknown treasures as well as the rightly famous Petra, and for its friendly people. Puglia for the light, the most picturesque of seaside villages, and the seafood.
- We found it is possible to travel both comfortably and relatively cheaply.
- Renting apartments and houses gave us stability, space to relax between sightseeing excursions, and gave us an insight into real Italian life.
- Travelling off the beaten track – whether it’s to Qatar, in the hills of Molise in Italy, inland from the Dead Sea in Jordan, or in the lake district of Poland – brings unexpected rewards and is always worthwhile.
- Even supermarkets give insights into local culture, and provide both amusement and horror.
- There are a lot of myths about places and people that shouldn’t be believed.
- There is too much waste and litter in this world.
- When life gives you lemons, make limoncello. It really is delicious.
- Travelling abroad for an extended period allows you to see with new eyes when you come home. Things, people, places we take for granted, appeared new and fresh on our return, and we were reminded how beautiful our own country is, and what gifts we have here. Maybe that’s the best gift of all?
Hidden gems: Jerash Roman ruins in Jordan, Poland’s lake district, and the hills of Molise, Italy
Hottest: Aqaba, Jordan, where the temperature soared to 47 degrees.
Coldest: Warsaw, Poland, where we woke to morning frosts.
Most beautiful: Lake Bled, Slovenia, and on a larger scale, Giau Pass (Cortina d’Ampezzo), Italy and Wadi Rum, Jordan
Most squalid: The dirty, littered Roman streets
Most surprising (good): Monopoli’s old town and harbour, Puglia, Italy
Most surprising (bad): Italian beaches
Most annoying cultural habit: Hogging the footpath (pavement) in Italy
Most pleasing custom: The friendliness of Jordanians, and being welcomed as “locals” at restaurants in Italy.
Most disappointing place: Rome in July. (Rome is fabulous, just not in July).
Worst meal: Poland sausage encased in potato dough with a weak, watery white sauce and a few slices of mushroom.
Never going back: Pesaro – Italian beaches. Ugh.
Favourite place: Vittorio Veneto for all round fabulousness. Great scenery, tree-lined streets, charming town (both new and old), good prosecco, good food, and pleasant accommodation.
I’ve been to London six times, five of those in the last decade. Usually these visits were “add-ons” to another trip, dropping into the UK to see friends. In New Zealand terms (many New Zealanders have lived and worked there on their OE), I don’t know the city very well at all. So on this trip, I was keen to spend some time there and discover it a bit more, do some touristy things and some not-so-touristy things, and simply explore. We were very indecisive, weighing up the not inconsiderable cost of accommodation in London, against the hassles of travelling around the UK or some other countries on the way to catching our flight home out of Heathrow, the draw of a great city and option to see some friends and family against the options of visiting one or two more “new” countries. But finally we settled on a week or so in London.
After four months in foreign language environments, it was an interesting transition. Our first ever visit to England was after 18 months living in Thailand. It felt then like going home – suddenly being surrounded by people who looked like us and sounded like us (well, sort of), and best of all, who understood us, and were raised a lot like we were. And this visit was similar. Yes, there are cultural differences between England and New Zealand. But there is an awful lot that is very similar.
So we arrived in London and settled in. We stayed near Oxford St, close to the Tottenham Court Road tube station, which meant we could walk to the shops, to Covent Garden, Leicester Square, Trafalgar Square and down to the river if we wanted to. Or if weather permitted. It was autumn in London, and so inevitably there was rain. And the most dangerous thing I did on the entire trip was walk down Oxford Street in the rain. All these people holding their umbrellas right at the level of my eyes. I dodged the umbrella points furiously. The danger was heightened by the chaotic way people walk down Oxford St, this bustling, busiest of shopping streets. I suspect it is because the footpath is wide, and filled with tourists. They walk all over the place – they neither stick to the left, nor the right. It’s confused, and maddening. I mean, I’m accustomed to Lambton Quay in Wellington, where we all stick to the left, and little lanes form up and down the street, especially at lunchtime. Pedestrian traffic moves quickly, smoothly, and there is little disruption. Oxford Street is the polar opposite. Walk it at your peril. Especially in the rain.
Still, Oxford Street is a good place to start shopping if you need to supplement your summer wardrobe with a few wintery items. Or if you’ve been on a four month shopping diet. Or if your favourite black jeans finally disintegrated in Poland. And so yes, we did a little shopping. But I’m not really a big shopper when I travel. My focus is on doing and seeing things, not acquiring more stuff. And besides, I had my Polish handbags. So we picked up a few items, then avoided Oxford Street if we could. There was plenty to do after all, and although our time in London seemed enormously generous when we were planning to go, suddenly once we were there we felt rushed. So much to do and see, and we were very keen to just take some time and relax too, to soak up some local life and habits, and to walk the streets.
It turned out that walking the streets was a delight. London though is not beautiful. It’s not like walking through the old towns of Warsaw or Krakow, or of Monopoli or Rome. There are of course beautiful old buildings, major monuments and cathedrals and landmarks. But there are also some hideous modern buildings, shapeless and dull and without architectural or aesthetic (same thing?) merit. Across the street from our hotel room was a modern-ish office building, filled with self-important people standing at the windows talking on their phones looking back at us. It was an ugly building. But on another corner was a charming old pub, bursting at the seams with people after work and on Friday night. There were dozens of beautiful old pubs in this area, some with old archways built through them, presumably for carriages in the old days, now providing access for cabs and cars and delivery vans. Across Oxford Street was Soho, and the most charming old ramshackle building. And just down the street we walked through the West End theatre district, through lantern-festooned Chinatown and all the Peking duck restaurants (and yes, we indulged one evening at the recommendation of my Malaysian Chinese sister-in-law), to Leicester Square and beyond to Trafalgar Square. The monuments and great buildings and museums of Trafalgar Square are always a delight, and the views down the Mall remind us of our royal neighbours in this great capital. Covent Garden too was an easy walk on a sunny warm Sunday morning (and my birthday). Bustling with markets and tourists and maybe even locals having a coffee and enjoying the free entertainment (jugglers, street performers, and a particularly enjoyable classical quartet) on a lazy Sunday, it was a delight to visit.
And of course, if our feet got sore we could always jump on the Tube. This wonderful London Underground transport system is incredibly convenient, but we also came to dread getting on it. We blame ourselves – we frequently found ourselves stranded after rush hour had begun, and the crush in the trains was unpleasant. Making it all more unbearable was the fact that the Tube (inside, and the carriages too) was, like the rest of London (the theatres, shops, restaurants, and museums), ridiculously over-heated. As soon as autumn arrives, the heating goes on. But it doesn’t go on to give a pleasant, ambient temperature. No, the heating is turned up so that you could quite happily walk around in summer t-shirts and shorts inside, and never be cold. (I estimate the average indoor temperature was around 24-25 degs C at least). It annoyed us both enormously, because a) we were sick of being hot after four months of summer in Italy and the Middle East, b) we were dressed for temperatures outside, and even if we shed our coats, we were still ridiculously overheated and hot and sticky, and c) this overt and indiscriminate profligacy of energy resources and money seemed to be accepted as the norm. (I will note that London is not alone in this. I have complained about it throughout Europe when we have visited in autumn/winter, and in the US.) I can only imagine the savings if the temperature was just turned down three or four degrees.
Complaints aside though, we revelled in being in London. One of the main treats for us was the availability of Asian food again. We eat Asian food at least once every week at home – usually Thai food that I cook, but often out at restaurants too. And we had felt starved of Asian food for the months in Europe. We were therefore overjoyed to see that there were excellent Asian restaurants surrounding our hotel, and indulged in Vietnamese spring rolls and Thai curries (Khao Soi noodles in a spicy curry is a favourite dish of mine and rarely found outside of Chiang Mai) at an Asian hawker’s stall style restaurant (several times), Indian curries and naan bread of course, more Thai, Chinese Peking Duck as already mentioned, and Japanese at Yo! Sushi! As you can guess, we avoided any and all Italian options, but did make an exception from Asian food visiting a small French bistro for my birthday. We rued our limited time, sadly eyeing the nearby Mexican and Peruvian and Korean restaurants that we simply didn’t have time to visit. This is what eating out in London is like. Any and all options, from all over the world, are available. You would be a fool not to indulge.
We had great fun playing tourist and visiting some new (for us) sights. We took a turn around the London Eye, and then plunged below the city into Churchill’s Cabinet War Rooms for a fascinating insight over several hours into Britain’s WWII war command headquarters. Perfectly preserved, the maps in the Map Room still have visible pin pricks from tracking troop movements. And the adjacent and detailed Churchill Museum could have detained us for hours more. A day trip up (down?) the river to Greenwich to visit a myriad of attractions there saw us run out of time. There is so much to do there. The stunning Painted Hall in the Old Naval College was an unexpected delight , the Cutty Sark an interesting insight both into the tea trades and life of sailors, the beauty of Inigo Jones’ The Queen’s House, the National Maritime Museum with Nelson’s coat complete with bullet hole, and of course the National Observatory and Longitude 0°0′ 0”. We were kicking ourselves for either not getting there several hours earlier, or not having a spare day when we could have gone back for more time at the museums. Of course, if we’d spent less time over our beer and fish and chips lunch in a small, charming pub we could have squeezed more sightseeing into the day. But fish and chips in a pub are compulsory at least once when you’re in London, surely?
In fact, there are plenty of traditional visitor activities that are compulsory when you visit London. A West End show for example. We didn’t have any “must-sees” on our list, so chose shows on the basis of what was available at the Leicester Square half-price ticket booth, and enjoyed a musical (Jersey Boys), and a slapstick but well-acted and averagely amusing comedy (One Man Two Guv’nors) for very reasonable prices. And of course, repeat visits to our favourite museums – the Victoria and Albert, the National Gallery, the British Museum, and (for the Husband when I was off visiting friends) the Natural History and Science Museums – were all essential. We could visit these museums weekly and still find new things to see and marvel over.
And then there’s the whole Afternoon Tea experience. An English friend took me for my first afternoon tea to Claridges a couple of years ago. So I knew I had to take the Husband too. Claridges turned out to be booked up weeks in advance, so we went to the lesser known, but highly recommended Lanesborough Hotel Afternoon Tea, winner of the UK Tea Council’s Award of Excellence for four years in a row. We sank into comfortable chairs in the elegant, glass-roofed dining room, sipped on bottomless tea, and nibbled our way progressively through dainty sandwiches, spicy buns, scones with delicious clotted cream, and tiny pastries and cakes. All to the strains of the pianist on the grand piano in the corner of the room. Had I not been to Claridges with Laura a few years earlier, we would have been too shy to say “yes please” when asked if we wanted more sandwiches. But I knew we wouldn’t be the only ones taking up the offer of “more, please” and I was right. Another plate was furnished quickly – all part of the excellent service (and price). When we rolled out two hours later at 6 pm, we knew dinner was not an option. In fact, we felt the need for exercise, and so took a refreshing walk across the top of Hyde Park, with all the office workers cycling and walking home, as night fell.
As our departure date loomed, we knew there were still plenty of things we wanted to do. But, maybe, there’ll be another time. It is always better to leave somewhere knowing you’d like to go back, than to feel bored when you’re there. And after all, this is London. To quote Samuel Johnson,
“when (you are) tired of London, (you are) tired of life.”
- The country went through unimaginable horrors in the 20th century. World War II took a terrible toll on Poland and its people, and then they had to deal with decades under Soviet influence. This is a land with sad sad stories. They are visible everywhere on the streets in Warsaw – including the plaques on the walls of buildings in the main streets recording massacres by the Nazis, the haunting memorial that was the HQ and grave of the fighters of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising and is built from the rubble of the street, the signs indicating the location of the Ghetto Wall, the infamous prison and the domineering communist-era building overlooking the city (the Palace of Culture and Science).
- And of course, we can never forget Auschwitz-Birkenau.
- The Church. Catholicism has survived intact in Poland, and churches abound. (Though sadly, they are not always aesthetically pleasing.) From Poland, Pope Jean Paul II (Karol Józef Wojtyła) was the first non-Italian pope since 1523, and statues – both good and bad (clearly depending on the budget) – of him are everywhere.
- Handbag heaven. I thought I would buy an Italian leather handbag when in Italy. I learned early the most important sentence in Italian: “Quanto costa questa borsa?” (How much is that handbag?) But I’m not much of a shopper when I am travelling, and when my friend from Warsaw visited us in Puglia, I was lamenting the fact I still had not purchased my Italian handbag. “Don’t!” she advised. “Buy it in Poland. There are good, leather, handbags at very reasonable prices.” She was right …
- Chopin. I have played a lot of Chopin on the piano. And though I didn’t get time to visit the Chopin museums in Warsaw, it was a special pleasure to visit his birthplace on a Sunday afternoon. The large gardens are beautiful to stroll through, and you can sit on a bench and listen to Chopin piano pieces on speakers. It was packed with people, to my friend’s surprise. Which brings me to the next item …
- Autumn colours. We realised, after leaving Chopin’s birthplace and visiting a palace a few miles down the road, that this is what the locals do in October, much as we visit the tulips in Wellington’s gardens in spring (and starved as we are of autumn colours in our green city). According to a new friend who helped us understand the entrance fees, once a year the locals visit beautiful gardens, and take in the sheer gorgeousness of the autumn colours. Couples strolled, or sat in a golden haze reading. friends chatted arm in arm, and children played in the leaves. The light changed the colours, from green to yellow to orange, red and brown, as we moved around the estate. And as dusk fell, it was time to leave.
- Krakow. It deserves its reputation as a highlight of Poland. There is real rivalry between Krakow and Warsaw – the locals believe there is a reason that the train to Warsaw leaves from the most distant platform at the station! Krakow was the capital before Warsaw, and escaped destruction in WWII. Its Old Town is therefore beautiful, its Castle remains intact, the ghetto and Schindler’s factory remain. One of the oldest universities in the world provides plenty of students who enliven the square (flash mobs dancing or rollerblading in the evening) and are a plentiful supply of English-speaking labour for the tourist industry.
- Warsaw. It’s the poor cousin to Krakow in tourist terms, and so is often left off visitor itineraries. Unfortunately the most picturesque town square was being maintained when we were there, but the reconstruction of the Old Town is extraordinary, and conveyed, to me, an extraordinary spirit of both pride in their past, and hope for the future. That hope is now obvious in this vibrant city; the home of Copernicus (The husband can vouch for the Science Museum) and Chopin, with beautiful parks, a castle, interesting and inspiring museums, it is well worth a visit.
- Stay in a castle. When it is cold, because castles should be cold, and the roaring fires in the bar are cosy. Preferably it should be haunted too. Just because. Our castle, in the lakes district and near Hitler’s wartime HQ, also gave us the opportunity to stay in a small village, and to see some of the countryside.
- Time. You need more than two weeks to do credit to Poland. We spent five days in Krakow, three days in the beautiful lake district, and seven days in Warsaw. We didn’t get to Gdansk, or unfortunately to Schwersenz, the town near Poznan where The Husband’s great-grandmother was born, before she set off at the tender age of 18 to migrate to New Zealand. So maybe, one day, we might have to go back.
- Good Polish food is not an oxymoron. Be bold. You might be pleasantly surprised.
- Eat duck, goose, and other meat dishes; slow-cooked, often served with rich, dark fruit sauces.
- Try the trout, preferably on the side of the lake where it was caught. Polish fish (trout) and chips are quite yummy.
- Pierogi: Reminiscent of agnoletti (a filled half-moon shaped pasta), pierogi (dumplings) might be well known in Europe and North America, but they are rarely seen or heard of here in NZ. My favourites were filled with mushrooms. Try the cheese dumplings (pierogi ruski) too – they are filled with a light cottage cheese and potato, and aren’t nearly as heavy as I expected.
- Be bold, as suggested above, but be prepared for failure. Beware the regional specialities. I thought I’d be adventurous one day at lunch, and ordered something that sounded a bit like a gnocchi in a mushroom sauce. It wasn’t. I should have had the trout and chips.
- Soup: Zurek is a simple sour soup that is popular. A clear broth, with hard-boiled egg and sausage, it is tangy and delicious, and well worth trying. They do a good chicken noodle soup too. The weather is bleak for many months of the year, and a hearty and warming soup would certainly cheer up my day if I lived there.
- Bread. After our disappointments with Italian bread, Poland was a joy. Such variety, breads filled with grains, hearty breads, soft breads, bread with flavour and variety. I swooned every time I took a bite of Polish bread.
- When you think of European food markets, I at least tend to think of a bustling, Mediterranean market, full of eggplant and brightly coloured capsicums (peppers), with lush ripe red tomatoes everywhere. My friend learned of a slow food market near her home, and we visited it on an icy Saturday morning. So different from our local market in Rome, but no less interesting. until we realised that samples were abundant, and the hot apple juice then sustained us as we browsed the stalls. We sampled the bread, and cheese, and purchased some for dinner that evening. And then recovered in a warm cafe with lattes and hot chocolate.
- Try the street food. Throughout Warsaw we saw ice-cream stalls. But it wasn’t really ice-cream weather. Instead, at a market in Krakow we tried some (heavy) cheesy pastries, served with a berry sauce. And later in Warsaw we tried some hot apple turnovers. Hot dog (sausage and bread) stalls were common too. (After all, as one of my friend’s colleagues said, “Poland is the land of sausage.” I wish we’d seen more street food. I would have enjoyed sampling it, I am sure.
- Wash it all down with Polish beer. It’s good. And plentiful.
Well, the weather was about to set in, winter was on the way, so we had no option but to fly south. And after about 34 hours on the move and in the air, we arrived home safely. Now of course we’re enduring the process of our bodies adjusting to a time zone that is 12 hours out of kilter. I read somewhere that your body adjusts by about one time zones per day. So we’ve got several days before we feel back to normal.
I still have things to say, and photos to show. So I’ll do a few round-up posts. Bear with me, as they are likely to leap about in no logical order.
For the last four and a half months, we have been surrounded by speakers of foreign languages. Or perhaps, we have been the speakers of the foreign language, English, surrounded by Arabic, Hebrew and Italian. Polish too, but we had some light relief there staying with a friend, and so had plenty of lively conversation in English. It took a bit of time to stop thinking and speaking in Italian, but once we hit English shores, we slipped back into our native tongue with ease. (Though I will admit, comprehension isn’t guaranteed, what with our accents, and those of the English speakers we encounter, and the fact that many of them are not native speakers even here).
Suddenly we have English language TV, news at the flick of a switch, or in archaic paper form delivered under our hotel room door in the morning. And with this immersion back into English, the need to blog – or perhaps the space just to tune out everything and think in English that leads to a blogpost – has diminished.
I will wrap up the blog when we get home, put on some more photographs and thoughts of Poland (Chopin, and good bread), and maybe some of London. But many of my readers know London well, so I won’t dwell. We’ve been having some very “English” days – Covent Garden markets, Victoria and Albert museum, a West End show, getting caught in the rain, a curry for dinner, and walking back to our hotel through Soho. We’ve explored new places, enjoyed the Cabinet War Rooms and Churchill Museum, strolled through St James Park, photographed squirrels, and supped beer in a pub. We’ve been crushed in the Tube at rush hour, and pitied the poor Londoners. We’ve had afternoon tea, thrilled over the availability of Asian food (finding Khao Soi – Chiang Mai noodles – was a highlight), and educated ourselves at museums. So we are improving our minds, emptying our wallets, and expanding our … um … palates.
And all too soon we will be home.