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.

Blessed

Today we will get on a ferry and head to Italy. We are very sad to be leaving Greece, having spent two beautiful weeks here. I feel that Greece, despite its financial woes, continues to be wonderful. It makes me realise that there is always something to be happy about. This got me thinking about all the things that I am thankful for, and – inspired by one of my favourite blogs, Rockstar Diaries – I decided to put together a little list.

I am thankful for:

…the feeling of the sun on my skin – it reaches right down in to my soul, warms it up and leaves me feeling more alive than ever

…the time to be creative – to think and to dream

…the opportunity to miss my family and friends – to appreciate their worth and the important role they play in my life

…the courage to start again – to not know what the future holds and to be okay with that

…the chance to travel – to explore, to discover and to learn along the way

…the companionship of my best friend, my soul mate, my husband – to love and to be loved

…the heightened state of my senses – to take in the beautiful sights of the world, to feel the sand between my toes, to listen to the singing of the early morning birds, to taste the salt of the sea

…the ability to be still – to be quiet, to find peace in solitude

...the possibility to be who I want to be – to do what I want to do

…the unwavering faith I have that the best is yet to come

What are you thankful for?

A political theorist in Athens

Having studied political theory at postgraduate level, I was expecting to feel exhilarated by our visit to Athens and the Acropolis – the birthplace of democracy and the most iconic manifestation of Western civilisation. And whilst it was certainly a very interesting visit – the Acropolis itself is no less than majestic – I was left feeling remarkably unmoved.

Of course, we admired the remains of the Parthenon, its architectural brilliance and its significance as a tribute to the Greek goddess Athena – the virgin goddess of wisdom, war, the arts, justice and reason. And, of course, our eyes feasted on the delightful views of Athens that we enjoyed from this privileged position high above the city. We took the time to picture plays taking place at the old Roman theatre, and to imagine the pride the Athenians felt in being the pioneers of modern civilisation (setting themselves apart from the less refined, more barbaric, classes of people).

And yet, somehow, I discovered that I feel more inspired (to write, to feel, to exist) by the calm that comes with the setting of the sun as it dips into the sea, slowly at first, and then – suddenly – disappearing so fast you’re afraid to blink in case you miss the last of its lingering rays.

I used to think that, in order to feel creative or inspired, it was essential to be at the heart of a busy city, rich in both cultural history and urban reality. London epitomised this very ideal, and in my mind Athens was guaranteed to provide the same sort of stimulus. Surely, the hub of culture and democracy is the best place for a political theorist/aspiring writer to flourish?

Though nothing like London, the chaos of Athens – an inevitable symptom of city life – only served to numb my creative spirit; the external chaos adding to my internal chaos, merging with it, losing myself in it. Taking the city’s metro (something that I was initially very excited about) only reminded me of what it feels like to commute and to be constrained – to travel, yes, but not freely.

At the end of an interesting day in Athens, I felt the most pleasure recalling a leisurely stroll we took through the National Gardens, which were beautiful and – surprisingly – very quiet. We sought refuge in the shade, and enjoyed the feeling of calm that cannot often be found in the concrete jungle of a city.

Oh, and there was that half a kilo of gelato that we indulgently treated ourselves to. That was pretty damn inspirational too. 

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. 

Sizzling in Croatia, cooling off in Montenegro

“What do you have in the van?”, asked the man at the Croatian border, with a face so serious it was as if he’d already decided we must be carrying a load of cocaine across the border.

“Just our camping stuff”, replied Florian, offering up one of his warmest smiles for good measure.

Seemingly satisfied, Mr. Croatian Border Man replied with a simple “okay”, but no smile. This must be the first time someone didn’t give in to my darling husband’s infectious smile. We decided that, with a face as straight as that, he must be an excellent poker player.

The rest of the people we met in Croatia, though, were warm and welcoming – giving Florian as good as he gave in the smile department. There was the waiter, for example, at a Croatian restaurant near the beach in Brela who gave us some Croatian plum whiskey on the house and told us how lucky we were to live in London and be close to the Chelsea football team. There was also the fruit-seller by the side of the road (selling the most delicious nectarines) who happily gave Florian directions and a mini Croatian language lesson.

All in all, what a lovely bunch of people.

And Croatia itself? Well, it is simply stunning. We spent most of our time driving along the dramatic coastline, admiring the views of the many Croatian islands (of which there are, astonishingly, more than a thousand). The heat was almost unbearable, though, and so we generally stayed away from the cities.

We first visited the island of Krk, accessible via a huge bridge from mainland Croatia. This island, in all its beauty, was completely unspoilt. It was dry and rocky; remote and desert-like; rough and wild. Untouched by the commercial hand of tourism, accessing the beach required climbing down some steep and unsteady rocks. The beach itself – a pebble beach – was tiny. A handful of fellow travellers had discovered it and were soaking up the last rays of the evening sun.

Driving across the island was very telling of the climate – it was extremely dry, with very little greenery. Some of the trees that we did see had been left blackened and bare by devastating bushfires.

Returning to mainland Croatia, though, the land became greener and more welcoming. We travelled to Sabunike beach, not far from the small city Zadar. Unlike Krk, the beach was sandy and packed with locals. Upon arrival, we promptly got in to our swimming gear and splashed our way straight in to the Adriatic Sea. The water was cold, but nonetheless a welcome refreshment given the unrelenting heat. We spent the night at the beach, and went back for another swim the next morning – it was amazing.

We then carried on to Brela, where the beach was pebbly and tourists were everywhere. Our final stop in Croatia was Dubrovnik, though it was more an attempt than an actual stop. The city was hot and not particularly vehicle-friendly. We decided that we would one day return to Croatia to discover the cities – by foot – in a more agreeable climate.

And so we carried on south – but instead of chasing the sun, we were starting to feel the intense weight of every single one of the forty degrees of heat bearing down on us. The plan was to carry on to Albania, but driving through Montenegro was so unbearably beautiful we felt compelled to stop. The Bay of Kotor, framed by grey mountain walls, is magnificent, and the crystal clear sea is the deepest blue-green imaginable.

We found a great little campsite offering a perfect location right by the sea, electricity and (cold!) showers – and all this for only €14! Once again, another pocket of beauty completely hidden from the tourist radar (I wonder how long this will last).

Arriving in the early evening was perfect timing – the air was starting to cool down (though I use the word “cool” loosely, noting that it’s all relative – anything below thirty degrees right now is able to provide us with some feeling of relief), but the sea was still welcoming. Florian dived right in, whilst I stole a few quiet moments alone, taking in my surroundings and appreciating every ounce of luck I have.

Our aim is to reach Greece as soon as possible, and to spend a couple of weeks relaxing there before heading back to Italy to discover Sicily with friends. And so we must say goodbye to this new-found treasure of ours, and hope that we continue to discover many more beautiful secrets of Europe – some well-kept, others not so much. 

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!