Fifty shades of green

When I try and think of London, I can picture only the grey of the streets and the harsh neon colours of Piccadilly Circus; the white walls of my old office and the dull beige curtains of our old flat. Colour, unsurprisingly, was not one of my main preoccupations.

This all changed the moment we arrived in Tuscany. We visited a number of little towns including Orvieto and Volterra, though it was San Gimignano that truly stole my heart – a small walled medieval hill town in the province of Siena, almost like a self-defined island amidst the sprawling Tuscan hills. The town itself was very pretty, consisting of beautiful churches and piazzas, picturesque streets and towers.

But it was the landscape that took my breath away. Having spent practically no time in the countryside previously, my knowledge of the colour green was elementary – grass is green, trees are green. And yet here was an entire universe of just this one colour.

There were illuminating, parrot green trees that made sure we all knew it was still summer. But then there were thicker, darker green trees that were a reminder of the inevitability of autumn. The silvery green trees were almost a tease, making me think of Christmas though it was only the beginning of September. And, of course, the cypress trees – typical of the Tuscan region – stood tall and proud, the natural protectors of this beautiful landscape.

Wrapped up in the walls of the town was a peaceful courtyard – the only sound came from the drifting melodies of the harpist in the corner. Though surrounded by high walls and therefore unable to actually see the landscape, it was impossible not to feel the beauty that engulfed us.

It reminded me, once again, of the importance of standing still – not just literally, but also figuratively. Human nature is such that we are always so preoccupied with what we feel we must avoid and, by contrast, what we aspire to have/be that we rarely just stop and look around at life as it is.

Each moment counts, and there is colour and life everywhere. Just look around, and you will see it. I want to take the time out of every day – no matter how busy it might feel – to appreciate everything: the infinite universe of colour, the signs that tell us (sometimes subtly, sometimes explicitly) that a new season is about to begin, and the knowledge that the world is beautiful just as it is.  

I hope – no, I know – that when I return to London, I will see more than just grey and beige. And I will allow more than just a cursory glance at my surroundings. I want to internalise everything I see, every place I go to, adding it all to my mind’s memory bank, enriching my eyes’ colour scale, and sharpening my understanding of the richness of the world.

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.

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. 

Tre Cime di Lavaredo

We felt Italy long before we crossed the Austrian/Italian border. The air grew warmer, the sun seemed brighter, and we even spotted a few palm trees. We were headed south and the sun was our guide.

I often think of Florian and I as two sunflowers – always turning to face the sun, always seeking it out, always needing it to survive. In fact, the first flower that Florian ever gave me was a sunflower, and I was so pleased that it was more original and thoughtful than a conventional rose!

 

Anyway, back to Italy. Having recently been on a grand hiking expedition in St Ulrich (Tirol), we were well-prepared for the relatively relaxed hike around the Drei Zinnen/Tre Cime di Lavaredo (the “3 peaks” which ambiguously find themselves in Austrian territory, but technically situated in Northern Italy), which took around three and a half hours of walking time – though we did take a few breaks for snacks, water and the obligatory shameless posing for the camera in front of the 3 peaks.

 

It was a magnificent walk, with beauty in every single direction. The 3 peaks – the central attraction – are, of course, breathtaking, but I was equally enamoured by the beauty of the surrounding mountains and valleys, the richness of the colours and the way in which the sun made everything glow.

It was a swelteringly hot day, though, and this made the walk seem like much more of an effort. Every step I took made me acutely aware of the weight of my hiking shoes, of my rucksack, of myself even.

But I would recommend this trip to anyone. My words cannot do it justice (though I hope the pictures can) – particularly the way in which the 3 peaks appeared to change with every new angle. Walking around them felt like seeing something new every 10 minutes, and each new perspective was as breathtaking as the last.

We parked our campervan right in front of the 3 peaks, and in the evening enjoyed the most scenic views – which went perfectly with our evening wine (something that seems to be becoming a habit!). And waking up to the 3 peaks was an extraordinary and humbling feeling. It reminded me how much there is to see in the world, and how little I still know about it all, having sealed myself into the bubble of London city life.

Still, whilst the girl (me) may have been taken out of the city, it is hard to take the city out of the girl. For example, all of this natural beauty didn’t stop me from screaming like a little girl when a frog landed on my hiking boot during our hike in Austria. And camping life – particularly as a camping virgin up until now – has not stopped me from taking time out to paint my nails and engage in other such “glamping” (glamour camping, apparently) activities.

And anyway, we are now in the romantic capital Venice – surrounded by gelato and canals – and I feel very much at home even though the city is not mine. But I will leave details of Venice for my next post.

Until then, ciao!