Oh, hello Autumn

Somewhere between indulging in cheese fondue in Zurich, picnicking in the Loire Valley and feasting on seafood tapas in the north of Spain, Autumn came. The leaves turned orange, the nights grew cooler and the days became shorter. Somehow, though, I missed it. We were so busy exploring - in what felt like a renewed desire to travel after an unexpected but very welcome deviation back to Cologne - that the end of summer came and went without so much as a cursory goodbye. 

But, of course, here in the north of Spain, the sun's rays are powerful: the days remain warm enough to lie on the beach and soak up the sun (which is precisely what I did on Monday to usher in the month of October - our last month on the road). 

Let me recap what we have been up to for the last two weeks...

The Loire Valley

I don't have that much to say about this, to be honest. The river is pretty, as are the iconic castles that make the area so famous. For me, though, it was quite boring. The towns that we visited all blended in to each other, and the only highlight was the freshly baked pastries we had for breakfast each morning. And the cheese... mmm. 

San Vicente de la Barquera 

We spent one week in this little town, not far from Santander, with some of our lovely friends - Rafael, Carmen and their beautiful 15 month old son Jasper. Here we surfed the waves (well, bodyboarding for me - it is much easier than surfing and requires far less courage!) and basked in the glorious sunshine. 

I must admit that squeezing in to my suffocating wetsuit for the first time in almost two years was somewhat distressing - as was the cold water and the sometimes treacherous waves - but as soon as I caught my first wave this was all forgotten. I was soaring across the sea, being carried back to the shore by the sheer force of the wave, and it was an absolutely exhilarating feeling. And I kept going back for more. 

And the other great thing? Why, the tapas, of course. For those of you who know me, I tend to be a bit of a fish-phobe, but - in the spirit of discovery - I let myself go and tried everything. And it was so, so good. We filled our hungry bellies with lightly spiced octopus cooked with potatoes, juicy king prawns sizzling in oil and copious amounts of garlic, tender grilled squids, anchovies that were like little exploding salt bombs, mussels (that, to be honest, made me a bit sick) and shiny little sardines that looked at me with their sad eyes while I tore the flesh off their little bones. The entire experience was simply divine, and we washed it down with two bottles of the house red. 

I wish I had a photo of this fishy feast for you but, alas, in our hurried excitement and hungry haste, we dived straight in without a thought for the camera. 

Picos de Europa 

We also went hiking in the Picos de Europa - beautiful mountains 20km inland from the northern coast of Spain. The views were breathtaking and, thankfully, the rain waited until we had finished. The rocky sights were dramatic and we spotted a number of caves (in which we imagine there must have been some cheese busy maturing). 

Though we only hiked for 3-4 hours, much of the way was steep and exhausting. At night, as I lay in bed, my legs hurts so much I was practically crying in my sleep - but it was worth the pain. It was simply magnificent. 

Waking up in paradise

And now we are traveling further west along the north coast. This morning we woke up at a glorious beach - the softest sand, crashing waves, dramatic rocks, fragrant trees - and the best bit? We were all alone. The beach was ours. The world was ours. And the future is ours. 

Let’s stop pretending

Okay, it is time to be honest. This blog is, and so far has been, a travel blog. And yet, it is hard to deny the overwhelming focus on food. Of course, discovering new places also means discovering new cuisines. But I cannot pretend that my food obsession is merely a small part of this trip and, by association, this blog.

Having spent a wonderful two days in Zurich, I was – surprisingly – at a loss about what to write. There was, of course, the beautiful city, with the huge lake at its centre, functioning as the heart of this small metropolis. There was also the river (or were there two? I obviously didn’t pay that much attention) which doubled up, surprisingly, as a city ‘swimming pool’ – though apparently the current is so strong it is only really possible to go in one direction: a nightmare for serious swimmers but, perhaps, a dream for lazy floaters like me. There were also the lovely people – old friends of Florian – who we ate, drank and enjoyed the sun with.

But do you want to know, truly, what the best and most memorable thing about Zurich was? The big pot of bubbling, hot cheese. I went to Zurich with a one-track mind: to find the most delicious cheese fondue in the city. And, thanks to a friend’s recommendation, we ended up at the Fribourger Fondue-Stübli (which I cannot recommend enough), where we indulged in a blend of Gruyere cheese, Vacherin cheese, wine and Kirsch served up in a big stoneware pot. We spent over an hour slowly dipping chunks of bread, potatoes, pickled onions and gherkins into this melting pot of heaven, savouring both the pungent flavours and the internal warmth it created.

It’s time to stop pretending. Of course, I do care about the cities we visit, the sights we see, the beaches we relax on… but, most of all, I care about the food we treat ourselves to, the flavours distinct to each country and the opportunity to take my taste buds on holiday with me.

And the other great bit? Meeting the people we love along the way. We were lucky enough to spend five days with my parents in our beautiful holiday home in Austria. We took a lift up to the top of the mountain, went for a boat ride on the lake, admired the most beautiful double-rainbow we ever saw, sought refuge from the rain by playing cards for hours on end and discovered Salzburg – Mozart’s hometown – together.

And can you guess what my favourite part of our time together was? (If not, you obviously don’t know me at all). It was the delicious, hot Indian meals that my lovely mum prepared everyday for us – her underfed (yeah, right), always-hungry (sad, but true) children. 

A tale of two cities

One is dirty, loud and anarchic; the other is epic, artistic and grand. One is the home of pizza; the other is the capital of the Catholic world.

Pizza pilgrimage

“iPad! You want iPad?” shouted the grinning man, with his thick Italian accent, through my passenger seat window. It took me a few seconds to understand what he was asking, in which time I called Florian over for back up.

“You want iPad?” repeated the man, now showing us (what we believe to be) a freshly stolen iPad (there was no case or box) that he had been clutching to his chest.

“No!” we both exclaimed in unison, each of us conjuring up images of the poor tourists who had just been mugged. Before we had a chance to react, the iPad-flogging thief had given us a final grin and a quick “ciao” – he was long gone.

We were in Naples, after all, a mafia hotspot and a city described in my guidebook as “a raucous hell-broth of a city”. Though we were only there for a few hours, it was clear that Naples is a living, breathing and heaving city – full of life, chaos and the obligatory dirt that comes with it. The streets were hectic, the floor was dirty, and there was a buzz in the air that grew louder and stronger the further into the city we got.

We were there on a mission: to eat pizza (after all, Naples is where pizza was created) and we went straight to a small, dark street called Via dei Tribunali notorious for its pizzerias.

The pizzeria we chose – Del Presidente – was recommended by our guidebook and by a friend. It was, from the outside, nothing special. But as we walked in, right past a giant oven with an enormous blazing fire, we knew that this was the real deal. We ordered a margherita and a tomato-less pizza with rocket and cheese. And the verdict? They were divine – the best we ever ate.

It turns out that this pizzeria is where British über-chef Heston Blumenthal came when researching pizza for his television series ‘In Search of Perfection’.

And, of course, in Blumenthal we trust.

When in Rome

Rome was so very different to Naples. It was still chaotic and buzzing, but not in the same way. The streets were full of tourists, fountains and over-priced gelatarias. We spent two days in Rome – the second was dedicated to Ancient Rome, whilst the first to almost everything else!

We went to Vatican City and in to St Peter’s Basilica – which was breathtaking – a true powerhouse of religion, it was hard not to feel the immensity of this rich and spectacular church. The Pantheon was striking, and its architectural significance of being the largest unreinforced concrete dome ever built was not wasted on us. The Spanish Steps were more a meeting place for lovers than a real tourist attraction, and the Trevi Fountain must contain the highest concentration of wishes and loose change in one place.

In the end, our experience of these two cities came full circle. In Naples, we were full of regret for not having been able to return the stolen iPad to its rightful owner, and in Rome we ourselves became the victims of petty theft. The damage was very little – just a stolen mobile phone (and that too a very old one) – but it was enough to push us right out of the city.

And now we find ourselves in Tuscany. There is no buzzing, no chaos. We are surrounded by gentle hills, the greenest of trees and the fresh cool breeze that September brings. 

A food lover’s paradise

“Welcome. This is a typical Sicilian restaurant. We have no menu, but I tell you what we have and you choose,” explained the waitress, knowing she already had us all eating out of the palm of her hand. We nodded eagerly, thrilled in equal parts by the phrase “typical Sicilian restaurant”, the clear lack of tourists and the charming quirkiness of there being no menu.

We indulged in a mini feast of antipasti, including the Sicilian speciality caponata – a cold starter of sautéed aubergine, olives, celery and tomatoes – followed by pasta, fish and a delicious (but surprisingly chilled) bottle of red wine. We felt triumphant; our first night in Palermo and we had stumbled upon an authentic Sicilian restaurant.

But then, the bill came. And it was clear that we had been taken for an authentic Sicilian ride (something we hoped was not a speciality). The ‘spoken menu’ meant that we had no clue what we would be paying, and the charming staff took the liberty of making a quick (and very large) buck.

This was, I am happy to say, the only tourist trap into which we threw ourselves. The rest of our culinary journey through Sicily was both delicious and reasonably priced. The only thing better than feasting on Sicilian food for four days is feasting on Sicilian food with friends for four days. We met our lovely friends from London – Charlee and Lisa – in Palermo, and discovered the sights, the beaches and (most importantly) the food together.

As you already know, pizza and ice cream are good for the soul, but here in Sicily we discovered so much more. Aside from some mouth-wateringly delicious pasta dishes (which were all perfectly al dente – my favourite being a concoction of pasta, homemade pesto, king prawns and toasted almonds), we also treated ourselves to sweet and fluffy pastries filled with cream, arancini (deep-fried rice balls) and panelle (chickpea fritters) – typical Sicilian street food that surprisingly reminded me of Indian food, filling my mouth with reminiscence and a longing for home that I can’t quite shake.

Some of the best restaurants could be found hidden in winding alleyways and non-descript side streets, lit up and glowing from both the warmth of the pizza oven, as well as the hearty laughter of the locals inside. Of course, there were some comedy tourist restaurants to avoid – one in particular we came across was run by a very friendly and charming man from Calcutta who was so excited to meet a fellow Indian (as was I, I must admit) that he guaranteed to feed me and my friends extremely well. Unfortunately, though the offer was generous, the presence of the ‘Pizza Bin Laden’ on the menu was enough to put us off. We never found out if it was an exploding pizza or simply a bomb garnished with mozzarella and tomato sauce, but we politely declined.

We did a lot more than simply eat in Sicily (I promise); we explored beaches, towns and cities; we stumbled across beautiful and intricately designed churches; and we basked in the glorious sun. But Sicilian cuisine deserves a post all on its own. And I haven’t even started on the food markets yet! Exotic fruits and vegetables, the head of a swordfish, stacks of nose-tingling, aromatic spices, salty and juicy capers, tomatoes sweet enough to earn their contested title as a fruit… and much, much more.

I very rarely needed dessert. The company of my friends, who often left me in eye-watering fits of laughter and heart-rendering moments of companionship, was enough to fill me with the sweet sensation that life is at its best when it is simple and full of love.

Show me the middle finger

On Monday the 6^th of August 2012 it was our very first wedding anniversary. 365 days as Mrs. Ballan. Before we had even worked out a route, I was adamant that the day should be spent in Greece – at a beautiful Greek beach, eating delicious Greek food. The only problem was that we were hundreds of miles, but only a few days, away from this goal.

As we drove through the Balkans, I was more and more convinced that our special day would be spent in Albania – a country I wasn’t very excited about seeing. Albania was very different from both Croatia and Montenegro (which were extraordinarily beautiful, each in their own way). Albania was rough – not just around the edges, but all over. The country’s poverty was visible everywhere. The roads were poorly constructed, filled with potholes and very often (and randomly) became unsteady dirt tracks. We saw countless unfinished buildings that had clearly stopped construction due to a lack of funds. Albania was not beautiful, but it was humbling.

Florian, of course, is able to find beauty anywhere and in anything. In this exhausting and difficult country, he found a lovely little place by Lake Ohrid to stop and have lunch. The lake was enormous, it was tranquil and it was beautiful. Part of the restaurant was even built in to the lake, giving the diners the sensation that they were floating. I couldn’t stop talking about how beautiful the ‘sea’ looked, only to keep remembering that it was actually a lake and that we were nowhere near the coast.

To cut a long story short, we crossed the border into Greece on the 5^th of August. I had been worried for no reason – of course Florian had taken it upon himself to make sure that our first wedding anniversary was exactly as I had hoped it would be. We drove to Sithonia, the ‘middle finger’ of Chalkidiki (personally recommended by one of Florian’s Greek friends for its beautiful sandy beaches and the fact that it is slightly less of a tourist magnet than other places in Greece).

It was our very own paradise. And we spent the 6^th of August swimming in the warm sea, cuddling on the beach and looking back at our first year of marriage – recounting all the wonderful bits and everything we still have to look forward to.

My wise friend Charlee, during a moment of despair, once told me not to worry, because ‘the best is yet to come’. I held on to this like an anchor, and still do, only now I think of it in both good times and bad. Florian and I have had a magical start to our marriage – 365 days of love, of fulfilling dreams, of making plans for the future – and, yet, this is just the very beginning. The best is yet to come. And so the 6^th of August was a day to take stock, as well as a day to look to the future.

 

We have spent the last few days doing much the same – swimming in the sea, lying on the beach, eating amazing Greek food and appreciating everything we have. In this state of absolute freedom, we are still creatures of habit. Our body clocks automatically wake us up at 8am and meal times are respected. Each day begins with a refreshing and revitalising dip in the sea, and each day ends with us gazing up at the stars (because our campervan is awesome and has a skylight above the bed) – and thanking our lucky stars for this feeling of unburdened, true freedom. 

Pizza and ice cream are good for the soul

After spending a good few days in the mountains, I was ready for a change of scenery. And I’ve been wanting to go to Venice with my love for quite some time now. This was the perfect opportunity. 

The drive from the Tre Cime di Lavaredo to Venice was hot – at 10:30am it was 29 degrees, and by lunch time it had reached 40 degrees. It’s no wonder then that, after checking in at our campsite in Fusina, we jumped straight on to a “vaporetto” (a water bus – Venice’s method of transportation) to go to the Venice Lido. We figured a spot of sunbathing and a dip in the water would be both relaxing and cooling. The Lido, however, was not quite as nice as we imagined.

But all was not lost, I insisted. It was only early evening and we still had plenty of time to save the day. 

We made the speedy decision to get the next vaporetto to Venice, in search of our first gelato. Arriving in Venice was like discovering the promised land (if this promised land comes with swarms of tourists). The canals and bridges were quaint and picturesque, and the gondolas made everything look like a romantic postcard. We saw – much to our delight – gelatarias all over the place.

Already the day was saved.

And then there was our first gelato – Florian had yogurt and pineapple, and I had coconut and pineapple (over the next 2 days we also tried lemon, apple, melon, Malaga (rum and raisin) and crema catalana). It was beyond delicious, and today – before we start heading off towards Croatia – we are going to go on the vaporetto one last time to Venice and have one last gelato. 

During the long drive to Venice earlier in the day, I kept talking about my need for pizza and ice cream – I figured one out of two wasn’t bad for the first day. But then on our way to the Piazza San Marco we discovered a tiny, almost miss-able, hole in the wall selling pizza by the slice. For €8.30 we had two huge slices of delicious pizza, a beer and an iced tea.

Two out of two.

It was then, on that first day in Venice, that I reached the conclusion that pizza and ice cream are good for the soul. There we were, sitting in the Piazza San Marco and admiring the Basilica di San Marco, feeling content with life. 

The next day we did much the same – we walked around the labyrinthine streets of Venice, crossing the canals, admiring the boats, and eating gelato at every opportunity we got. Venice can be an extraordinarily expensive city, though we were able to navigate our way through the city’s charm and away from the obvious tourist traps without doing too much damage to our modest wallets.

And, as Ernest Hemingway said in A Moveable Feast, “We ate well and cheaply and drank well and cheaply and slept well and warm together and loved each other”. This is exactly what we intend to do for the next 3 months… and, of course, for the rest of our lives.