Blogworthy

Jenny bought a new handbag and pair of boots today. The handbag was discovered in a lovely shop called Mandarina Duck (I’ve seen this shop before in Paris and Singapore, but always thought it was a Chinese restaurant) in the very civilised Prati district just north of Vatican City, where we’d gone for our morning stroll. The proximity to the Vatican was quite fitting, as when Jenny finally found a handbag she loved, I knelt down on one knee, made the sign of the cross and thanked the Lord.

The boots were more difficult to find. Not that we had to walk far, they were actually in a shop around eight steps from our apartment’s front door. But when we entered the shop we found no staff. They were eventually located in the back office, hiding from a pigeon that had flown in the front door and got itself into a flap when it became disoriented and trapped in the shop’s window display. I was fascinated, as I’d never seen pigeon-phobia in action before.

“Get it out for them,” Jen whispered, her eyes on the boots she had spotted in that very window display. I moved a few mannequins and reached in tentatively (I mean, I’m an Australian bloke and all that, I wrestle sharks and strangle snakes and dodge leapin’ lizards, but this was a man-eating, Roman bloody pigeon) and surprised myself when I was able to grab it gently from behind, lift it out of its high-fashion prison and release it out the door. You’d think this would be an act worthy of a 10 per cent discount but no, all I got from the boot babes was a cool, “Grazie”…

Here is a pic of Jen’s purchases, casually splayed on the lounge after a day of shopping.

Then again, I’ve done a bit of shopping in the last few days myself. And when I say “a bit”, I actually mean “a bit”. Those who know me well know that I only buy t-shirts at Ben Sherman, mainly due to the fact that the last two times I’ve been shopping for clothes in the last three years, I have been in a Ben Sherman store. I actually bought two more Ben Sherman shirts in London a few days ago, but I’m now the proud owner of three more t-shirts (aka “business shirts”) from a brand called Jack & Jones. Here’s one in a pic – I’m the one in the Batman shirt, Sam’s the one in the Spiderman shirt…

I bought these shirts because Jen, Sam and I were recognised by a local, very gay clothing shop owner. “Ciao,” he squealed as we walked by his shop. “You bought those jeans from here two years ago.” And indeed I had. This man-hungry master of mannequins obviously had a good memory for short, stubby, hairy, part-Lebanese Australians with huge noses, or possibly he just knew a sucker for good t-shirts when he saw one. The problem, of course, was that mummy immediately began referring to said shop owner (let’s call him Bruno) as “Daddy’s boyfriend”. So now, every time we walk past the shop, which is quite often as it’s around 20 metres from our apartment, Sam looks into the shop and, if he sees Bruno, yells out, “There’s DADDY’S BOYFRIEND!”

Anyway, it’s been a fun day. Sam had a big cry after pulling Batman’s leg off whilst waiting for mummy in Mandarina Duck (see Batman and his mates, below), but that’s now fixed, thanks to the wondrous power of Super Glue.

The very good news is that the Christmas Markets in Piazza Navona, about three blocks from our place, are now open. See pic…

And of course,the Christmas Markets have a carousel, which means we now go on a ride with Sam every night. See pics from tonight and last night…

The better news is that we’re all now 100 per cent settled in, literally suited and booted, and I get to dedicate all of my attention to my stunning wife and our awesome little man. And all it took was a handbag, a gay man, a pigeon and a pair of boots.

Bussolini

Since we arrived in Rome six days ago Sam has harassed us constantly for a trip on a double-decker bus. He fell in love with them in London then spotted a number of hop-on/hop-off, open-top tour buses on our first day in the Italian capital. There are approximately 11 such operators in the city and after an evening of extensive internet research we chose the company with the stops to suit our purposes.

Armed with a video camera, snacks and a very excited four-year-old we rolled up to Piazza Navona (stop #5 on the route) and were perplexed when three buses failed to stop. Unsure of how to proceed we chased the next bus along Corso Vittorio Emanuele for about 2kms and finally discovered a bus stop near Piazza Venezia (stop #4).

We were happy when a large sign on the bus read, ‘PURCHASE TICKETS ON BOARD’, but our high spirits were soon dampened by an extremely glamorous but stern conductor who refused to give change. What followed was an awkward stand-off as the sexy conductor refused to give Chris ten Euros in change and my principled husband simply stood his ground and said , “Well, we could just get off and give you nothing.”

Fearing this face-off would result in a screaming child, I frantically rummaged through my wallet and found the appropriate money. All was well … we thought.

We hoped our 24-hour tickets would enable us to travel pramless to sites that were a little further afield, such as the zoo at the Villa Borghese Gardens (stop #12). But once we read the map that the angry conductor had supplied we discovered half the stops on the route had been wiped. The bus went past them but didn’t let passengers on or off. The 24-hour nature of our tickets was now useless as most of the remaining stops were within walking distance of our apartment. We completed the round trip back to Piazza Venezia without hopping off.

While Chris and I were disappointed with the experience, Sam’s hunger for a double-decker adventure had been satisfied and, having thrown our 24-hour tickets in the bin we instead did the long walk with pram to the zoo and back via the Spanish Steps today – with plentiful stops for coffee, gelato and pizza.

Cat nap

Jungle Jim

Damn those Spaniards for all of those steps…

A cafe a few doors from our apartment

A Picture Tells…

Well that’s fine, for now. But what are we supposed to drink after the weekend?

A Bloody Long Walk

We’re losing weight in Rome, that’s for sure. Despite a massive daily intake of wine, Campari, cheese, beer, pizza, chocolate and gelato, over just three full days we have walked for around 21 hours. Jen is noticeably slimmer, and I’m pretty sure my head isn’t as fat as usual. Which is good, because in Rome there are no overweight people. We Aussies like to imagine all Italians as round, jolly people, but every overweight person in this town is American, German or Australian.

We’ve been walking so much that I can’t imagine anyone, not even somebody half our age, keeping up. All of that exercise we do at home, it seems, is finally paying off. It was especially important yesterday when I decided to find an alternate way home from the Colosseum. We’d taken Sam in his pram and I was sick of dodging the wide-load arses of loud-talking Americans. My intimate knowledge of the layout of Rome was about to pay off. Or was it?

After two hours of walking, and after twice confirming to Jen that I did, indeed, know exactly where we were (and twice refusing to consult the map, as I didn’t want to look like a dumb tourist), I came clean and admitted that I was lost. I asked a young man at a bus stop, “Dove Piazza Navona, Campo dei Fiori etc?” and he laughed. He’d seen us push a pram all the way up a very long hill and with a mixed look of guilt and amusement pointed us back the way we’d come. “After two kilometres turn left,” he smiled. We eventually made it home, and while Sam was amused by how dark it was when we walked through the door, Jen wasn’t.

Still, the walking has been effective. We’ve re-introduced ourselves to much of Rome already and tonight, over yet another bloody bottle of red, are planning areas to re-visit for longer and more detailed excursions. Sam is planning to spend every day on an open-topped, double-decker bus, which is fine by me – that way I can blame someone else when we get lost.

Here are some photographic highlights…

Piazza Venezia

Trevi Fountain

Piazza Navona, which in a few days will become a massive Christmas market

Jen & Sam on our street, Via dei Giubbonari

St Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City (with Satan in foreground)

A Celebration of Orange

Just a quick announcement to say that ‘Orange’, aka ‘Cat-Hair Jacket’, aka “That jacket I told you to throw away five years ago’, aka “Not that stinky jacket again’, aka ‘The greatest fleece jacket on Earth’, is currently doing its fifth tour of Italy. See pic here of Sam and I celebrating its glorious existence yesterday whilst in Rome’s Piazza Del Popolo…

Like a handsome old man, the orange fleece is thinning a little on top, a bit stretched around the middle, a little saggy here and there but still irrepressibly and unmistakably sexy.

It is a chick magnet.

Say no more.

Tale Of Two Cities

I (Chris) have only thought I was truly going to die five times in my life – once whilst lost on a mountain in the high Nepal Himalaya in minus 31 degrees and with night falling, once whilst scaling a cliff in the Blue Mountains with way too much air and rope between myself and the ground, once on an aircraft flying to Armidale, once on an aircraft flying to Edinburgh (this crash would have wiped out the entire staff of Guinness World Records) and finally, once on the aircraft yesterday, flying into Rome.

But first, our final full day in London was lovely, with time spent at Borough Markets (which Jen and I used to visit every Saturday morning on the Vespa for our week’s very fresh food) wandering along the Thames, on double-decker buses, discussing Shakespeare with Sam whilst outside The Globe and with plenty of promises to return for good, if we can work out a way.

Chris & Sam on the ‘wibbly-wobbly bridge’ across the Thames

Jenny & Sam outside The Globe Theatre

Chris & Sam atop yet another double-decker bus

Jenny & Sam having a civilised lunch as pigeons await scraps

Then came the flight to Rome, which began smoothly enough from Heathrow’s new Terminal 5, and ended with 30 minutes of rather terrifying turbulence. We pitched, we yawed, we dropped, we rocked and rolled. Every child on the flight (apart from Sam) and plenty of adults, made very good use of their sick bags. Sam originally giggled as if on a roller coaster, then turned very green and spent 25 minutes with his face buried in a sick bag, but never actually lost his lunch … thank the Lord for small mercies. Speaking of the Lord, I said a small prayer promising that if we survived this flight, Jen and I would drink a bottle of red every evening whilst in Rome. Hence we’re both currently performing our penance.

So when we arrived in Rome we realised all of our airborne suffering was worth it as our apartment is the greatest apartment in the entire world. Who would have thought a flat could have more space than our house? It is so beautiful, so perfectly-well located, so amazingly designed and so wonderfully decorated that all I have to do to make Jenny cry (not that I want to make Jenny cry…) is say, “We have to leave this apartment after 28 more days…”.

Here’s a quick view of the kitchen and lounge area…

Jenny & Sam in our whopping big, city-centre apartment

An Italian at work

Lounge area…

Just A Quickie

We're in Rome having a brilliant time - will update this blog properly when we find a reliable web connection. It turns out that the internet in Italy is similar to Italian footballers in opposition goal boxes, i.e. it tends to fall over a lot. But we bought an internet dongle today and as soon as we work out how to make it work we'll send an update or two.

Sam’s Mate Lav

What a perfect time to be in London with a four-year-old who is obsessed with Christmas. All of the major department stores have stunning window displays.

The reviews: Selfridges receives five stars for their kid-themed windows created around iconic toys and films such as Toy Story and Transformers. I award Harrods 3.5 stars for a classic but tired array of lights and baubles. Sadly, Harvey Nichols receives one star – while their window displays are eye-catching, their over-enthusiastic use of tinsel only serves to make me nauseous.

Sam and I travelled into the Fossil flagship store on Oxford Street today as I was on a quest to purchase a handbag. Of course we caught a double-decker bus – the 137. Sam entertained me during the grid-locked journey with an ear-splitting commentary about pretty much everything he saw.

I was disappointed when I emerged from Fossil empty handed, but we then visited Gap where Sam proved an extremely talented shopping companion. I was buoyed when he chose three tastefully coloured shirts and a playful beanie for me, but my heart sank when I was in the fitting room pulling on a pair of jeans and he muttered, “Aren’t they the same as the ones you’ve got already?” Needless to say, I still purchased the jeans and vowed never to take him shopping with me again.

After lunch I took Sam to what used to be a quiet park surrounding St Luke’s Church in Chelsea. It has transformed into an enormous kids’ playground. Sam was delighted, even more so when he made a friend, a little boy about his own age called Lav (your guess is as good as mine).

In other news, Chris had his last day of meetings at GWR today. So he has now spent a grand total of six days in an actual office in the last seven years. He says he’s glad it’s over, and having just spent three whole days in a row in an office, his well-earned five-week holiday can now begin.

Time Out For TimeOut

After a frustrating and fitful night of sleeplessness, Chris headed off to Guinness World Records HQ and Sam and I walked to Kensington Gardens to visit the Princess Diana Memorial Playground (I promised him at about 3am that if he went to sleep I would take him to a playground) this morning.

Although TimeOut London said the playground was open from 10am, it wasn’t. In fact, it was closed. Too tired to moan, Sam ate a peanut butter sandwich and found contentment in playing hide and seek in the park and making friends with a few menacing swans.

After a visit to the greatest supermarket I’ve ever had the pleasure to shop in (Waitrose, Gloucester Road) and a three-hour sleep in our apartment, Sam and I visited the Natural History Museum on Cromwell Road to see the dinosaurs. According to TimeOut London, the animatronic dinosaurs are a sight to behold – magnificent, terrifying, blah, blah, blah. Yet, there was a single T-Rex on display, that was it. Even Sam pointed out – not as good as Questacon.

But in the foreground of the museum a carousel and ice rink had been set up for Christmas. The two of us sought solace in a ride on the horsies and a prolonged viewing of the ice skaters. Sam rejoiced when somebody fell over then he begged me to let him have a go. Even though I explained one had to be at least six years old to ice skate he insisted he was “really good at it”. He failed to convince me.

I guess we’re not in Canberra any more…

There are no words to describe jetlag, that awful feeling of being a ghost walking amongst the living, of drowning in a vat of anaesthetic. Last night we went to bed at 10pm, then Sam woke us at 11.45pm. That was all the sleep that was to be had. But apart from that, London has been wonderful.

We arrived last night at 7pm, met our driver at the airport and by 8.30pm were at our old local supermarket, Waitrose on Kings Road in Chelsea. We gathered supplies and brought them back to our apartment in Chelsea Cloisters, the building in which we used to live. A relatively sleepless night ensued (central London is not the greatest place to try to send a jetlagged four-year-old back to sleep – it’s not exactly serene … but it’s great for everything else).

This morning we caught the Tube to Covent Garden in a very lovely four degrees of chill, did some shopping, visited the Transport Museum, came home for a sleep, then headed out again this afternoon for a ride on a double-decker bus to Knightsbridge. When Sam saw the facade of Harrods beautifully lit by hundreds of thousands of tiny fairy lights as part of its Christmas display, his response was, “When are we getting back on the double-decker bus?” When he saw the window displays of Harvey Nicholls, a million-pound undertaking, his response was, “When are we going to get back on the double-decker bus?” And when he saw the hill leading to the bus stop, his response was, “Daddy, can I get on your shoulders?”

Despite the lack of sleep, we’re enormously energised by London, by its people, its impeccable style, its crowds, its incredible vibe and the memories of when it was our home. Hopefully we will live here again some time soon (and yes, we know that will worry some people).

Here are some shots from today:

Sam and dad on an olde-worlde double-decker…

We were going to catch this bus, until we saw who was driving.

Sam and Mumma on a classic Routemaster.

Sam phones home from Covent Garden.

Singapore Sling

It’s 4am and we’re wide awake in the icy and luxurious cocoon of our very well air-conditioned suite at the Crowne Plaza Changi Airport. The flight was smooth and mercifully uneventful. Our adventure began, of course, at Sydney Airport where Jen enjoyed buying four litres of duty free grog (two Jacks, two Camparis), Chris enjoyed looking through the Victoria’s Secret catalogue and Sam played in a small playground we found inside Karen’s favourite restaurant, McDonald’s.

On board, Jenny had time to watch the film The Other Guys (1.5 stars out of 5) and drink a Singapore Sling before becoming a slave to Sam. Chris also watched The Other Guys (2 stars out of 5) and downed a Singapore Sling before becoming a slave to Sam. Sam watched the movie Cars (5 stars out of 5), two episodes of Scooby Doo, one episode of The Flintstones, finished an entire sticker book, finished an entire colouring book, ate a backpack full of food, had a mile-high swordfight with Daddy in the aircraft toilet, played with his new British Airways 747 and still had time for a 40-minute sleep…



Singapore once again opened her arms to us as we stumbled blearily from the economy cabin. Having such a lovely hotel within the airport terminal building makes things so easy and comfortable in an otherwise steamy environment. We’re now waiting for the breakfast restaurant to open (6am) then for the pool to open (7am), then for our flight to open (11.30am) before we do the 14-hour leg to London. Not looking forward to that very much, but we are looking forward to arriving – very much.

The Big One

So we’re nearly there – two days until we’re in Singapore, then it all begins.
Here’s our plan:
One night in Singapore: Nov 14
London: Nov 15-21
Rome: Nov 21-Dec 19
Singapore: Dec19-23
One night in Sydney: Dec 23
Please help us out by plugging up any volcano you happen to see.
Here are our favourite past photos of us in Singapore, London and Rome…

That’s us on the road to the Colosseum…

Jenny and Sam and a few friendly, Singaporean giraffes (Chris doesn’t include himself in photos in Singapore as he’s too sweaty…)

And Jenny on Regent Street in London – Sam of course has never yet been to London.
You can click on these photos to see bigger versions, then just click ‘back’ to come back here.
See you when we return!
Love,
Chris, Jenny and Sambo xxxx

Luxury

Ahhh ... the welcoming embrace of the Emirates Lounge in Christchurch Airport.

It's a rupper mate, aye bro.

In Transit

So the big trip hasn't even begun, and already Chris is in a crush at Sydney Airport. What a horrible place to be when it's crowded. Lucky I'm not chasing Sam around.

But I am still missing Jen and Sam like crazy - a big hole in my heart...

I'm travelling business class on the way back. Thank the Lord for small mercies!

Am on my way to Christchurch, then back home again tomorrow night. Duty free is locked and loaded...

Yummy...