Almost Thrown By A Citroen

Sam is asleep, Jen is enjoying a glass of red and the blinds have been drawn on our first full day in Paris, but it was almost curtains for me yesterday as we wandered around after our arrival. We checked in to our usual apartment in Le Marais, which is even better the second time around, then visited the supermarket to stock up. Once the necessities were taken care of we had an hour or two before dinner so headed to our favourite places, the Ile St Louis and the Ile de la Cite, where Sam played in the playground behind Notre Dame.

In front of Notre Dame is a fairly busy road crossing the island, and a very strange pedestrian crossing. There are no lights, no ‘Walk’ or ‘Don’t Walk’ signs, just a zebra crossing. The traffic continued to zoom past, so I assumed the rules were the same as Rome – step out blindly and trust the hand of God to take care of you. It turns out there is no God in Paris, there are just Parisians. They’re not necessarily the anti-Christ but the woman behind the wheel of the Citroën that nearly took me out was definitely a bit of a demon. I jumped out of the way as she blasted past, and was left in the middle of the road looking like … well … an idiot tourist.

Last night dinner was cassoulet, a bizarrely tasty French dish which, if you don’t wish to spend a week making it, comes in a tin. When you open the tin it looks like dog food. As you heat it up it smells like dog food. But my goodness, it’s the tastiest meal on Earth. That’s the amazing thing – in Paris everything seems better. It’s like that ad for James Boags. Wine tastes more classy, bread tastes more buttery, cheese tastes more cheesy and in Paris my beautiful wife is even more gorgeous than usual (I told her this and she said it’s just because she’s so happy here).

Anyway, after a thoroughly lovely evening and our first full night’s sleep of the entire trip we headed out this morning for a huge walk to the Eiffel Tower (about eight kilometres), which Sam walked entirely without complaint. We were very proud of our fit little trooper.

On the way we stopped at the bird markets on the Ile de la Cite.

Sam & Mummy at the bird markets

A place to buy more Sams

Wishing to rest out little man’s legs on the way back we caught the Batobus ferry which was quite fitting, as both daddy and Sam were wearing their Batman (or is that ‘Batoman’?) t-shirts.

This afternoon, after Sam didn’t have a daytime sleep but daddy did, we headed out again, hopped on the Batobus again, then wandered back via the Arc de Triomphe, Tuileries Gardens and Louvre Museum. It was another huge walk for Sam (about 2.5 hours), and another excuse for Jen and I to drink more red once we finally arrived home. A good result all around.

Sam at the Louvre

Under the Sea

There was a definite feeling of Spring in the air during our final two days in London. The temperatures reached a balmy 14 degrees, the heads of blooming daffodils were poking through the muddy greens and the general atmosphere seemed lighter and brighter. With Chris at GWR HQ I decided to make the most of the rare sunlight and get outdoors as much as possible. I was also hoping to give the final, clinging remnants of jetlag a good boot in the arse.

Sam and I spent one morning in Holland Park where we found a playground (hooray!) and I admired the beautiful homes backing onto the park (Chris told me that night that Richard Branson lives there. I didn’t see him). We spent some time wandering around Kensington and I ventured into Clarkes, where I used to work, to get a perspective from the other side of the counter. We had morning tea at Starbucks however, where the clientele are permitted to have their phones on and chocolate is allowed on the cappuccinos.

We met Chris after work and wandered through Hyde Park along the banks of the Serpentine. Hundreds of people had the same idea and for 5 o’clock on a Thursday afternoon the park was a hive of activity, a sight more reminiscent of a Saturday afternoon.

In Hyde Park on a bridge over The Serpentine

Yesterday, we went to the British Museum to see the mummies (dead Egyptian aristocracy, not women with children). Time Out warned that some children found the exhibition quite overwhelming, but Sam loved them. Fortunately he has watched an episode of Ben 10 featuring an alien mummy so was quite familiar with the gruesome spectacles. He was especially taken with the cat mummies.

Following morning tea at Starbucks, we found a spectacular seven acre kids’ playground near Russell Square called Coram’s Fields. There were bikes, scooters, climbing equipment of every shape and size, sand pits, a petting zoo and a flying fox. It is a community-run initiative with a nursery and child-care centre attached. It was well worth the visit, and free.

Now we’re seated on the Eurostar with the train travelling through the chunnel. Sam can’t quite believe we’re under the sea in a train.

Paris-bound on Eurostar

I was sad to leave London and I’m confident we’ll work out a way to return permanently one day, but brave new adventures in Paris await. Au revoir!

NOTE TO READERS: I stupidly forgot to take the camera out on both days. I apologise for the lack of photos. Je suis desole.

Double dessert on night one in our Paris apartment

Getting Around

We Australian adults seem to spend our entire lives attempting to avoid public transport, and with good reason. So it’s quite a surprise when we see those same vehicles through a different set of eyes – a four-year-old set of eyes, for instance. Suddenly the idea of a train (especially one in a tunnel) or a bus (especially a double-decker) is quite a thrill. At least that’s what Sam has been attempting to convince Jenny and I of over the last few days, as the importance of the journey has well and truly overcome that of the destination.

Yesterday we achieved the Holy Trinity – train, double-decker bus and black cab. The Tube train was caught, of course, to the London Transport Museum where we climbed all over old trains and buses.

Sam takes a corner…

We then walked (another form of public transport, I guess) to Trafalgar Square…

Sam tames the wild beast

…before catching a double-decker bus back to our apartment in Chelsea. That afternoon, after a very deep sleep (for me as well as Sam – jetlag has finally begun robbing us of night-time sleep) we hopped into a black cab…

Mummy and Sam travelling in style

…to the Natural History Museum, and from there we walked home. But it wasn’t over yet. This morning Sam begged for more, so we hopped on a Tube train to Tower Hill where we had a brilliant view of Tower Bridge…

Sam and Daddy and stripey beanies

…before wandering the always-amazing grounds of the Tower of London, including a walk through London’s most secure building to view the Crown Jewels.

Sam guards the Crown Jewels…

Of course, a long walk along the Thames was followed by a Tube ride home, and after another very satisfying daytime sleep, we caught one more double-decker to Clapham Common so Jenny and I could check out our old haunts. This was lovely and brought on strong feelings of homesickness for London.

It’s now 8.10pm and exhaustion has set in again. Time to head back to bed – hopefully we’ll sleep past 2am this time.

Knowing Looks

During the 13 hour 25 minute flight from Singapore to London Chris and I shared a number of knowing looks. The first came roughly six seconds after settling into our seats when Sam asked, for the first of what seemed like a billion times, “When are we going to be there?” There was another intense stare when the man in front of me reclined his seat within seven seconds of settling into it. A glance shot like a bullet between seats 34A and C when we realised that the coughing lady seated across the aisle was surely tubercular. Each occasion (and there were many) the jolly Scotsman sitting behind us laughed unusually loudly at whatever he was watching on the in-flight entertainment triggered another bewildered stare.

These looks all said one thing, asked one question – Why are we doing this to ourselves? But when we arrived in London our doubts were allayed.

After a night of strangely uninterrupted sleep in our fantastic apartment we decided we would reward Sam for his spectacular behaviour on the aeroplane by catching a double-decker bus into Oxford Circus and visiting Hamley’s, the famous five-storey toy store on Regent Street. Sam finally got his Omnitrix (readers with a boy-child under 10 will know what this is) and an action figure from the same show (Ben 10) called ‘Armadrillo’. Sam was delighted with the whole experience and Chris and I were fascinated, in a politically-correct fashion, when the employee taking care of our purchases was dressed like a gollywog.

Sam and Hamley’s man

Snacking in Carnaby Street

We wandered down Carnaby Street, had morning tea at Pret-a-Manger, shopped at Boots, Waitrose and Waterstones (a few of my favourite stores) and then caught the tube back to Chelsea. What a morning! What a city!

The day was topped off with a visit to the children’s playground in the grounds of St Luke’s Church in Chelsea. Sam had loads of fun on the equipment and Chris and I occupied ourselves by marvelling at the number of nannies (child-minders, not grandmothers) on duty. We seemed to be the only actual parents. With money, it seems, comes a distinct lack of personal contact with one’s children.

A couple of swingers in the playground

Chelsea view from our apartment

Arrived In London

Just a quickie (as it’s 1am and we’re awake, entertaining Sam) to say we arrived safely in London last night after a painfully long flight and moved in to our very awesome apartment. Our accommodation is way beyond our expectations which is good, especially considering our last London experience. Will update in the next few days, hopefully after a lot more sleep.

Here We Go Again

It was a very early and slightly hung-over (thanks Karen & Jacques for your hospitality) start to the day, but it was worth it as we avoided airport queues, had time for a bad brekky, allowed Sam to run around in the McDonald’s playground and, of course, stocked up on duty free (1 x Jack, 1 x Campari, 1 x Cointreau, 1 x vodka) before settling into the Singapore Airlines A380. The flight itself was fairly bearable, mainly thanks to the fact that Sam had a 90-minute sleep. Bliss.

Of course, as we’ve been in Singapore for an afternoon Sam has had a swim and a vomit. It would not be a holiday without both. The swim was in our brilliant hotel pool, the vomit was on one of the banana lounges (and on mummy … yummy) by the side of the pool after Sam swallowed too much water during several hours of splashing around.

Sam takes a leap of faith

Mermaid and Merman

Tomorrow will no doubt bring more of the same before we fly out to London at 1pm. We’ll be back online once we’ve recovered from that ordeal.

Vomit, Sweat & Beers

We made it safely to Singapore after an uneventful but sadly sleepless flight from Rome. One of the aircraft cleaners will have made a fairly unpleasant discovery by now in the shape of a paper bag filled with the ex-contents of Sam’s stomach, but at least our little hero got it in the bag.

Jen, Sam and I have only been in Singapore for two days, but already we’ve swum in the hotel pool five times, visited the shopping mall four times, consumed two enormous breakfasts, wolfed down two awesome Japanese dinners topped off by a couple of bottles of Tiger beer, and caught a cab out to the amazing zoo where we wandered sweatily for two hours.

We have another full day tomorrow, then fly out the following morning. We’ll have no web connection before that, so this will likely be our final blog. It’s been good fun. See you on this blog page again in February!

Jenny, Chris & Sam xxx

Arrivederci Roma

It’s our last day of a brilliant month in Rome. How miserable. But as long as there are new adventures on the horizon then we’re good.

They say it never snows in Rome, but yesterday we had the magical experience of a seriously heavy snowfall for around an hour. Here’s a shot from our apartment window. Note the polar bear down on the street…

Jen, Sam and I ran outside and had a ball.

But that’s not the biggest news. The really big news, and we know everyone will be thrilled to bits to hear this, the news that we’ve been wanting to share with you all, is that Jen and I are, wait for it … proud parents of another Lightning McQueen car! That’s right, here he is, the new Lightning McQueen, who was discovered at a Disney store in Rome. We also bought King’s racing truck, but that will be a Christmas surprise for Sam.

Old Lightning McQueen is the light-red one, new Lightning McQueen boasts a classy, deeper shade of red

The family (at least the ones we brought with us) – L to R: Tim Rimmer, Leaky, Nitro, old Lightning McQueen, RPM, new Lightning McQueen, Chick Hicks, King

So we fly out tomorrow morning and have four days ahead of us in Singapore which will be spent splashing around a hotel pool with Sam, no doubt, with small breaks in between swims spent in Karen’s favourite coffee shop, Starbucks. Then we head home.

But it won’t be long until we’re back in Europe. In fact we’ll be landing again at Heathrow in nine weeks, on February 20, and who knows what new adventures that will bring!

Until next time Roma, farewell from the Trevi Fountain…

A funny thing happened on the way to the cake shop

On Tuesday, as we sat in the sunshine eating our lunch (the world’s best pizza from Pizzeria Franco & Cristina), Chris, Sam and I were annoyed by the whirr of a police helicopter circling overhead. The chopper continued to buzz around during our afternoon siesta and was still an irritating presence when we left for our afternoon walk. We had decided to stroll Via Veneto, a street lined with Rome's most expensive hotels. On the way home we would collect dessert at a pasticceria we had reconnoitred the previous day.

Enough pizza, yet?

Around the Pantheon many streets were blocked by police. As we crossed via del Corso (the main street through the city), which was completely blockaded by heavily-armed riot squads, we spotted a massive plume of black smoke rising from Piazza del Popolo (the city’s main public square). Streets around the Trevi Fountain, and in fact a large part of the inner city, had also become no-access zones.

By the time we reached via Veneto, via a very round-about route, the city was a ghost town. A voice on a loud speaker, evacuating people from Villa Borghese Gardens, broke the eerie silence and a genuine feeling of menace hung in the air. We were still unaware of what the problem was, but I had my fingers crossed that whatever it was would result in the closure of the airport for several weeks, leaving us stranded in the city. Something strange was afoot so we chose to head back to the safety of our apartment – via the pasticceria, of course.

Our craving for a cake had become an obsession. We artfully criss-crossed the bizarrely-quiet and deserted city, avoiding police and military barricades. When we reached the Pantheon (the pasticceria was very close now) we were confident our mission would be a success. As we rounded the corner onto our pasticerria’s street a massive police truck was parked across the road directly in front of the shop, barring our way.

Although the heavily-armed policemen were turning people back, we still endeavoured to get through. Surely they’d understand that unlike everyone else we truly needed to pass. We could see the front door of the shop, we could smell the delicious dolce urging us ever closer, but the lawmen were as unbending as the muzzles of their M-16 assault rifles.

That evening, over a two-course meal, we discovered there were widespread riots in Rome, including burning barricades, over the allegedly corrupt and totally sleazy Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi’s narrow victory in a second no-confidence vote.

We are nearing the end of our time in Rome and we’ve been relishing our final week. Yesterday was brilliant. We returned to the Parco delgi Arancia (the park with orange trees, high on the Aventine hill) and played an impromptu game of football using oranges as balls. Sam loved it and couldn’t stop laughing, especially each time one of us accidentally stepped on and squashed the ball. Even though the temperature stubbornly sat at three degrees we all managed to work up a sweat. In the late afternoon as dusk began to draw we took a return visit to Castel Sant’ Angelo. By the time we climbed to the top of the fortress night had fallen and the view over the river and city was unforgettable.

Night view from Castel Sant’ Angelo, with St Peter’s in background

Blessed are the bogans

When Sam made a new little friend in the square in front of St Peter’s Basilica, he couldn’t stop talking about Mario. After weeks spent in the company of his boring parents Sam had finally played with someone his own size, someone who brought his own trike with him! The next day, a Sunday, he begged to go back and see if he could find Mario again. On Sundays at midday the Pope makes his big, weekly appearance at a window high in the papal residence to bless the souls gathered below, so we thought we’d check it out. It was quite an event.

Tens of thousands gathered in the spectacular piazza to hear the big fella pontificate. Tears stained the faces of many in the crowd during the service. Large groups had travelled together from all over the world to be there, which took Jenny and I by surprise as we’d simply gone for a wander to help our little boy find his Italian buddy. But of course it’s right that people consider it such a special moment – it’s the Christian equivalent of a trip to Mecca. For many it was the realisation of a lifelong dream.

That’s him … the guy in the window!

When he speaks in Latin the Pope actually sounds wonderful – quite charming, comforting, caring and gentle. His sermon, although understood by only a few, washed warmly across his faithful audience like sunshine and, even to irreligious people such as ourselves, actually felt like a blessing. They were welcome words. Even Sam, from his perch on my shoulders, was transfixed (despite our lack of luck in tracking down his mate Mario). It wasn’t until Pope began preaching in other languages – yes, speaking in tongues – that the Catholic CEO began sounding like a voiceover for Satan. There’s something about his English that is very creepy…

Sam & Daddy sleep off their blessing

Yesterday we took Sam to a park, where he climbed all over a few statues...

Sam tests for tinea…

We also wandered to the Spanish Steps because they’re close to our favourite cake/gelato shop, and to the Jewish ghetto which is the location of our new favourite pizza shop, Pizzeria Franco e Cristina.

Pizza and beer for lunch in the ghetto

Today it was time to get out of our comfort zone. I’ve always wanted to travel to the Rome suburbs to see how the real people live, Sam has always wanted to travel on a tram and Jenny is happy to do anything that stops Sam whingeing for more than a minute or two. So we combined our wishes and took Rome’s only tram line to its far end, had a wander around, then returned.

The most interesting and somehow-comforting outcome from the morning adventure is that, despite the fact that we all believe Italians are naturally incredibly stylish and beautiful, Rome is full of bogans, just like every other city – you’ve just got to look a bit harder for them. At the far reaches of the tram line I saw track-suit pants matched with faux-leather jackets, white jeans worn with white boots, a man with a front-mullet and several middle-aged women sporting cigarettes behind their ears. It wasn’t nearly as shocking as any given Saturday morning at Tuggeranong Hyperdome – after all, the Italians were wearing shoes, had showered in the last 24 hours and could probably read – but it was interesting all the same.

We’re now back in the historic centre surrounded by Vespas, culture, flavour and the odd skinny, rich idiot wearing Prada. The world is full of fascinating people – bless them all.

Second Helpings

When we arrived in Rome we re-instituted a daily custom from our last holiday in the city. The three of us set out for a long walk each afternoon and en route purchase something decadent and delicious to eat. Since day one on this trip we have consumed a heart-stopping count of calories. When we leave our apartment in the mid-afternoon we have no idea of what the day’s sweet treat might turn out to be. Sam always campaigns for gelato, Chris prefers an indulgence of the shortbread variety but on most days I insist on trying something new.

Last week on via Cola di Rienzo in the Prati district I chose an unusual cake from the display cabinet at a beautiful pasticceria. While all the other offerings were pretty, delicate and lady-like, this was a man-size tart – a burly outsider. It was lacking any adornment of icing sugar or fruit and it was brown. I was convinced that such an ugly specimen could only be a traditional favourite.

I was rewarded with a deep, robust shortcrust pastry shell filled abundantly with sultana-studded rice pudding (who would have thought of that?) that sickened my male companions. As I hoovered up the last crumb from my palm I vowed to find my way back to the Prati before the holiday ends, solely to eat another.

On a different occasion Chris and I devoured what I can only describe as a totally evil shortbread sandwich - two biscuits of about 10cm in diameter, bonded by a generous amount of velvety chocolate mousse. The top was iced with a glossy, thick chocolate ganache. It’s another taste sensation I must revisit. Likewise, the green apple gelato from a little gelateria near the Spanish Steps, the sickeningly gooey chocolate slices from a hole-in-the-wall bakery in Trastevere and the torta al formaggio we found in the kosher pasticceria in the Jewish ghetto … so much to eat, so little time.

With only seven days left in the Eternal City it seems there is an eternity of food to get through. But enough of my Nigella-ing, Rome is more than just the sum of its dolce. There are a few sites and experiences we’re planning to revisit, too.

1. Castel Sant’ Angelo by night. Although I had come to Rome six times, I had never ventured into the infamous fortress before this visit and it was brilliant. Sam loved the spooky tunnels and dungeons and was amazed by the cannons and pyramids of cannon balls. Chris and I were gobsmacked by the views. Visitors can also enter the castle in the evening, which will make for stunning night-time views over the city and super-spooky tunnels for Sam.

2. The Aventine Hill is a rather posh and leafy area of Rome. At the summit is the Parco Savello with its dozens of orange trees and spectacular views. Sam loves running along the paths and amongst the trees. Further along the road lies a magical keyhole in the door of the priory of the Knights of Malta. Peek through for a telescopic view of St Peter’s dome.

3. Four-wheel biking in the Villa Borghese gardens. Chris and I have little interest in reliving this particular experience but Sam is obsessed.

4. The Vatican and St Peter’s Basilica. This afternoon, after stopping for a luscious tart filled with while and dark chocolate ganache, we arrived at the Vatican at about 4pm. With not too many people around, Sam was able to run freely around the piazza in front of the Basilica. He made a friend called Mario, a three-year-old who lives with his parents near the Vatican. As the sun set, the lights came up and the Basilica and the Christmas tree in the piazza created an awesome atmosphere.

Pics Of The Day

Family photo…

In a park above Piazza Venezia

And views from our evening walk…

Looking from Ponte Umberto I to Ponte Sant Angelo

St Peter’s Basilica, Vatican City

Castel Sant’ Angelo

Ponte Vittorio Emanuele

A statue on Ponte Vittorio Emanuele

The Pope, a balloon and an immaculate contraption

Outside of chaos, not a lot is organised well in Rome, and that is a very large part of the city’s charm. But one thing the Romans do well is Christmas lights, and in an amazing feat of organisational brilliance they turn them all on around the city at dusk on the first Sunday of December. That, of course, was a few days ago, when we wandered out with the rest of the city’s population to see what they’d come up with this year. Jen, Sam and I were totally charmed by the magic of it all. To me, this is what Europe is all about – a cold walk on crowded streets, pitch black by five o’clock, and a sense of Christmas all around. In London it centres on Regent Street, in Paris it’s all about the Champs Elysees, and in Rome the sparkling-light action is at Via dei Condotti – the street that leads away from the inexplicably-popular Spanish Steps. Anyway, here’s a pic that does the scene no credit at all, but gives some idea of the crowds…

Since all thoughts and decorations turned to Christmas, helium balloons of all shapes and sizes have begun appearing all over Rome. Sam has been constantly asking for a balloon of his own, but as the balloons are criminally expensive we have refused, instead attempting to keep him happy with experiences.

For instance, the other day we braved the rain and took him to the gardens of the Villa Borghese for a two-hour cycle on a four-wheel bike, which he loved. These are quite amazing contraptions, as they have an electrical assistance system – meaning riding up the steepest of hills requires minimal exertion. They’re almost as good as a Vespa.

But that was not good enough for Sam, he still begged for a balloon, so we then took him into Castel Sant’ Angelo, a foreboding building created by Hadrian for his own protection and utilised since by a series of Popes (via underground tunnels from the Vatican buildings), most of whom have been targets of assassination attempts. Amazingly, despite five previous visits to Rome, we have never entered the Castle which is nestled so handily and locally on the banks of the Tiber, near the entrance to Vatican City. We had assumed it had little to offer, but what fools we were. We now realise it boasts the very best views over Rome from its highest battlements. Here are some pics…

Despite the constant entertainment, Sam still petitioned for a balloon. So in a last-ditch attempt we decided to have the little devil exorcised. Back on Via dei Condotti this morning we saw the Pope (yes, again – it’s our second run-in with the caped crusader) blessing the crowd as part of the celebrations for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception – a public holiday today in Rome. He was rambling in Latin when he looked our way, deep into the crowd, then paused. “Is it really you?” he asked in the evil Germanic English accent that he does so well. Everybody in our part of the audience pointed at their own chest hopefully. Then he thrust his crooked finger crookedly at me, as if he was about to announce that Christ had come again. “You? Is it you? Could it be? Chris from TV HITS? Whatever happened to Baby Spice? And what about those lovely, Christ-fearing Hanson brothers – do they still get together to sing Mmmm Bop?”

Strange, the things that happen in Rome.

Pope-a-dope completely ignored poor Sam, who completely ignored Pope in return and once again began screaming for a balloon. So this afternoon, before our nightly carousel ride and after our nightly gelato, Jen wandered into a store and bought a four-pack of fancy balloons and a ball of string for a whopping EUR$1.50. Sam was finally satisfied, and Jen and I have a little peace and quiet as he sleeps and we sip red. Until tomorrow…

Vive La Difference

Italians love to talk and they love to talk loudly. As they stroll along a busy, gridlocked footpath, deep in animated, musical discourse, dramatic gestures punctuate each of their thoughts. Then they pause, stopped still in their tracks, the crescendo to their conversation fast approaching, completely unaware of the three Australians about to ram them from behind.

Fortunately Chris, Sam and I have become gifted in the sport of dodging and weaving. Romans on foot never seem to be in a hurry or, if they are, they keep it extremely well hidden. Whereas the Sheedy/Bonds, even in holiday-mode, find the pace of the average Italian frustratingly slow. We artfully side-step tourists and locals and skilfully run the gauntlet of North Africans spruiking umbrellas, pashminas, bubble pistols and a seemingly inexhaustible inventory of indefinable toys.

At times, as we walk, the noise from the crowds and the traffic combined make it impossible to hear each other talk. Sam’s constant narrative and questions dissipate before they reach our ears. He has taken to carrying a super-hero action figure when we go out, someone on his own level who is more likely to hear him.

The streets are as crowded as the sidewalks and crossing the road is a leap of faith. We have become adept at stepping out into the oncoming traffic. This is what separates us from the average curb-hugging tourist. When we come to the occasional crossing with lights and are given safe passage by a benevolent green man, cars, buses, Vespas and trucks still rocket by either side of us, ignoring their own red light.

Chris and I have pondered why this might be so. “Perhaps at peak hour traffic is allowed to ignore the red signal,” I venture. But there is no logic. There are no rules. This is Rome. We return to our apartment each evening feeling exhilarated but exhausted and lock the door on the crazy world outside.

My husband has taken to wearing earplugs to bed, especially on Friday and Saturday nights (those who know me well will be acquainted with the fact that I have been wearing earplugs since 1994, the year Chris and I began cohabitating). The Campo dei Fiori area (where our apartment lies) is the equivalent of Norton Street in Leichhardt or Oxford Street in Paddington. It is noisy at most times, but on nights when people party, the din makes Chris’s snoring pale into insignificance.

As I lay in bed early yesterday morning, awakened by the hoards heading home after an evening in the Campo, I wasn’t cross at being rendered wide-eyed. Everyone sounded happy, there was laughter and singing. I actually found the melody of the chatter soothing – more relaxing than a 747 coming into land over the Inner West or a tricked-up Lancer roaring down the Monaro Highway.

Having written all that, I wouldn’t have it any other way. This is just one of the reasons why Chris and I keep coming back to Rome – for the difference.

However, when we do long to escape from the madness, we have discovered some serene places of respite.

1. The Botanical Gardens lie in Trastevere, at the foot of the Gianicolo – one of Rome’s seven hills. While not the largest or most picturesque of gardens I have visited, they are peaceful and green. There are many meandering, shadowy paths and hidden nooks that Sam enjoys exploring.

Sam, Mummy and ducks in Rome’s Botanical Gardens

2. The Via dei Fori Imperiali is closed to traffic on Sunday. Stretching between Piazza Venezia and the Colosseum, this is one of Rome’s most significant thoroughfares and was built by Mussolini. In order to lay this grand boulevard in honour of himself, the dictator paved over much of Rome’s ancient past. As a consequence, the road is despised by Romans today who would like to see it destroyed and the long-buried ruins brought to light. As removing one of the capital’s major arterials would cause even more traffic chaos, the people are appeased by the token gesture of opening the road to pedestrians on Sunday.

Sam jogs on the Via dei Fori Imperiali towards the Colosseum, in the distance

3. Churches are a wonderful sanctuary. We have no religious urges but Sam knows he must be quiet and is happy to sit in between us and look at and softly comment on the statues, mosaics and beautiful ceiling and windows. He always lights a candle, but he assumes it is like a birthday candle. While he doesn’t blow it out, he does make a wish – his last two wishes were for: 1) Chick’s truck (from the movie Cars); and 2) a dog. My favourite church is the Santa Maria in Trastevere.

Inside Santa Maria in Trastevere

Chris’s World Records

So here’s a bit of a poor excuse for a blog, a list of bests and worsts and other superlatives, fitting as a blog topic only because the trip, now half over, had as its original purpose a series of meetings with Guinness World Records. But nevertheless it’s just as annoying as one of those episodes of Seinfeld that is filled with flashbacks.

BEST THING IN OUR BACKPACKS
This one is a bit of a surprise. Jen and I are ‘experience’ people, not ‘technology’ people. We prefer real life memories as opposed to RAM memory. In fact, we think most technology – like expensive cars and wide-screen TVs and iPhones etc – ultimately makes people feel bad about themselves as it is so quickly out of date. Wonderful experiences, on the other hand, only become more valuable with age as the memories and learnings are constantly re-used, re-lived, utilised and discussed.

Anyway, enough philosophy. I annoy the hell out of my brothers with this argument every time we try to come up with a gift idea for our parents. So they will laugh when they hear that the winner is our netbook, a lovely little Toshiba NB305 that not only allows us to blog and check the weather reports etc, but also provides us with great jazz music over dinner, allows us to check out and back-up our photos each evening, gives us the opportunity to work on our next book and offers us many half-hours of sanity as Sam watches his films and TV shows. Best $500 we’ve ever spent.

BEST 16 EUROS WE’VE EVER SPENT
A bottle of Jack and a commemorative metal container. Enough said.

BEST CLOTHING IN OUR BACKPACKS
Our Gore-Tex jackets from The North Face. Not only do they laugh in the sad, sodden face of rainy days, allowing us to get out and about in any weather, but when paired with our Keen waterproof walking shoes they also stop us from looking like Australian tourists. Instead we look like Australian tourists disguised as German mountain climbers, which is so much more chic.

 

BEST PICTURE OF A HORSE’S ARSE
I don’t mean Sam, I mean the actual horse’s arse … this is taken on the carousel in Piazza Navona. Pick a night, any night.

WORST KITCHEN ITEM
We were fascinated by this when we first moved in – a built-in dish squirter. It’s for people who really want an item in their kitchen that is, in the real world, only ever operated by illegal immigrants who are being paid a quarter of the award wage. Or you could use an electric dishwasher…

FIRST PHOTO BY SAM
Okay, so I know a ‘first’ cannot be a record as it is, by its very nature, unbreakable. But this is the first ever photo that Sam took completely on his own, which is pretty exciting. It’s even a tiny bit abstract.

SECOND PHOTO BY SAM
He’s a fast learner. And just four years old…

FASTEST 100 METRES
Performed in Piazza Del Popolo, this classic record was achieved in a time of 42.13 seconds.

BEST XMAS TREE
It’s unusual and completely non-traditional, but we love it. We found it in a piazza today, very close to one of our favourite cake shops.

AND SPEAKING OF CAKE SHOPS … BEST CAKE SHOP
Oh yummy, a walk worth doing every afternoon. And we do.