Christmas in Italia

I feel like a broken record, but here I go again, apologising for the rather extensive period of time in which I have not posted anything. However, a brief and slightly stressful new job, the regular flu which turned into tonsillitis and swollen glands simultaneously followed by some sort of chest infection both limits content and ability to write anything worth writing, let alone worth reading. But I am happy to say that apart from a slight tightness in my chest and the occasional coughing fit, I am feeling better. And luckily, due to the time of year I was not short on content to write, sick or not. Because an Italian Christmas is an experience that simply begs to be written.

A few days ago I saw a photo on Facebook that made me literally laugh out loud. The picture itself wasn’t particularly funny, it was just a table completely covered in plates of delicious food – not an unexpected picture for this time of year. Then I saw the caption: Italians “I’ll just get our a few snacks” I laughed because it is just so true. Now bearing that in mind, I want you to try and imagine what meals are like when they are supposed to be decadent. In case you are having trouble, let me paint that picture for you.

First of all the Christmas feast does not start on Christmas day, but Christmas Eve. Our several course dinner began with freshly baked bread followed by seafood salad, two different pasta dishes followed by deep fried veggies (which I still don’t understand – I mean what is the point in eating veggies if you deep fry them in batter?!) and fried fish finishing off with a choice of biscuits and cakes. Naturally all accompanied by lots of good wine, grappa and loud, passionate conversation. Having been in Italy for 9 months and despite having to speak English constantly I have managed to pick up a sufficient amount of Italian to understand enough that I can sit back, sip on my wine and watch and experience and listen, soaking it all in. No matter how good the writer, I believe that it is simply impossible to get across the feeling of sitting in amongst Italians, who love life, family and food like no other culture I have experienced. When these three things are put together around one table on Christmas Eve, you get an experience of a life time.

As I have already said, I have not been so well the last few weeks and so Christmas Eve night ended early for me and I fell into a deliciously deep sleep which I was not woken from until squeals let me know that the gifts left by Father Christmas had been found by two very excited Italian children. I do not intend to describe the unwrapping process of Christmas presents as I believe your own experience in the matter should give a sufficient picture of the excited chaos that followed.

Having celebrated Christmas Eve with Massimo’s side of the family, by midmorning we were all piled in the car ready to head off to Cesenatico to celebrate the rest of Christmas Day with Filomena’s parents, her brother and his family. Due to the fact that it was December 25^th, the roads were all but deserted and we made good time, arriving perfectly on time for lunch. I had though Christmas Eve had been a feast, and having lived here for so long I should have guessed, because Christmas Day lunch was the biggest feast of my life. I am talking so much food that even when everyone had eaten their full there is still enough food left over for another entire Christmas sized meal. So much food I can’t list it because there was so much I don’t actually remember it all. So much food there is left overs for the next week. Multiple starters, an amazing pasta dish, so many plates of veggies and meat that to pass a plate to one person has to work as an exchange.

“Can I have the chicken please?”

“Yeah sure, but you’ll have to pass me the roast potatoes so that you can put the dish down”

And don’t even get me started on dessert. You know on Christmas Day, you eat so much lunch that you are sure you couldn’t eat any more, but then dessert comes out and somehow you manage? Well, when our desserts came out I could only manage to taste a few, because there were 4 different desserts alongside roasted chestnuts, walnuts and dates. All I have left to say on the matter is that dinner that night consisted only of a camomile tea and my antibiotics tablet.

Christmas Day ended with Filomena, Massimo the kids and I bundled up in coats, hats, scarfs and gloves taking a walk along the central Cesenatico canal. The last time I had seen it, it was buzzing with bikini wearing teens giggling at boys, families headed to the beach and venders selling towels and sun cream. But late December, winter and Christmas night had completely transformed the place into an arcade of glittering lights and stalls selling mulled wine, chocolate and roasted chestnuts. Through speakers that I could not place, Christmas carols accompanied the sounds of friends and families making their way along the water’s edge, or standing by the huge, decorated Christmas tree in the middle of the square. The ancient fishing boats that were moored in the canal now had life size modals of fishermen, and in the largest there is the Angel Gabriel, Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus. Everything about the place was completely magical.

As I am sure you have picked up, I had an amazing Christmas. So amazing in fact that I didn’t even realise until the 26^th that I had forgotten to photograph the event. Though I would have loved to have photos, I truly believe it shows what an incredible few days I was fortunate enough to experience. I hope you all had an equally special Christmas and have a very Happy New Year!

Pasta, Meat and Wine

Boo! Did I scare you? Give you a fright? I bet I did seeing as it’s been radio silence on the blogyssey front recently. For this I do apologise! But naturally I would be busy one week and a storm would blow out the Wifi the following one.  But to make it up to you all I will not only share with you my amazing full day Toscana cuisine cooking course experience, but also one of the delicious recipes.

A little over a month ago I had my 19^th birthday. It was my first away from home and the family so I was not what it would be like and I have to say I was a little… apprehensive. But my amazing Italian family made it an incredible day, filled with goodies and surprises, the first of which was a voucher to attend the above mentioned full day cooking course. From the moment I managed to semi-translate what exactly the voucher said I could hardly wait to go, and finally the day came. I have to admit, when I first walked into that large room with its two, bog, food covered tables, the two chefs in their pristine white uniforms and the few other course participants (all at least 10 years my senior) I was feeling slightly daunted. I still struggle to understand the language unless spoken to me as if I was old and deaf and was unsure how I would fit in. Turns out these were all silly and totally unnecessary concerns as by the end of the day I had almost everyone speaking together in English, applause and perhaps admiration for bravely tasting EVERY dish created (including Lampredotto – which is the LAST stomach of a cow and uncut looks like a deflated brain) and even a sneaky little selfie. But I am getting ahead of myself. Back to the tables full of food…

On the larger, long, rectangular table lay an assortment of rolling pins, flour, eggs, water and oil. The pasta table. The smaller, round table contained vegetables and a selection of meat, though most of the items I had never seen, let alone even thought about eating before. There was your usual mince meats (beef and pork) and chicken but then there was also liver, tripe, abomasum, and heart. Having chosen to take the meat course I couldn’t wait to see what these interesting looking animal body parts would create, and how on earth they could ever taste good, but of course where there is the will of an Italian (and a good splash of red wine!) there is ALWAYS a way.

Over the course of the day these packages were opened and magic was made in the creation of a ragu/bolognese style sauce, chicken and pineapple plate, fried liver, lampredotto and a thick tomato tripe sauce. However, not only did I learn how to make this magic happen, but also a huge amount of little tips and tricks, knife skills and simple cooking do’s and don’ts that are so versatile that I will be able to use them in almost any cooking endeavour. While myself and the two other ladies worked with the meat, all the others were busy getting their fingers flour-and-egg sticky and rolling out their pasta dough to make all kinds of delicious goodies. Fresh tagliatelle, ravioli and gnocchi as well as a whole bunch of others I do not know the name of.

Impeccably timed, we finished our sauces just as the fresh pasta was bubbling away in salted water and it was not long before we were all seated for a late lunch of our morning’s creations and a well-deserved glass of their Chianti red wine. Though the majority of the cooking had been done before lunch, we did continue on after with the smaller dishes (liver, pineapple and chicken) which we somehow managed to find space for in our already filled stoamchs. By the time the clock hit 4pm with the tables now bare we were all very satisfied and ready to call it a day and say our goodbyes feeling very happy indeed.

*recipe and photos to come tomorrow! :)

The Ways I've Changed

My goodness it feels like a long time since I last posted! Sorry for missing last week but I was away exploring my country of birth, England. Oh I am patriotic! While I was there I was asked if I considered myself a Kiwi or a Brit and… I couldn’t answer! So I have combined my nationalities and decided to call myself a Biwi (because Biwi sounds better that Krit!) Anyhow, this is not at all what I had in mind to write today but I just felt the need to share. Onwards with the original blog post plan we go!
 

I think it is fair to say that one the biggest reasons for students to take a gap year is to find themselves. Or at least this was a large factor in my decision. I expected that I would grow and change and I constantly had people telling me how much I would mature and that I would really learn who I really was. And it is definitely true. I have changed in a number of deep and personal ways. Which are exactly that. Personal. And reserved for my diary and Skype sessions with my family or best friend. But what I AM going to share with you all today is five ways I have changed that I did NOT expect!

No. 1 – Sneaning. Yes, I have previously discussed with in one of my earliest posts – here – but that fact that I did (and still do it!) is not a change I was expecting. At all. Whenever backpackers and tourists graced New Zealand’s shores with the jeans and sneakers I would always think how fashionably unacceptable that was and that I would NEVER commit such a fashion crime. But oh! Never say never. Not only do I now regularly snean due to its practicality and comfort, I actually have found myself looking at Nikes with the single thought of would-these-be-good-sneaning-sneakers? I have very little else to say on the matter other than that I have completely bowed to European sneaning-is-ok pressure and am not embarrassed to say so!

   

Now THESE would be nice sneaning sneakers!

No. 2 – While we are on the fashion topic I feel I must admit to something that I never in my wildest dreams imagined I would do. Yes. Even above and over sneaning. Double denim. I know I know! Until one month ago I was still appalled at the fact that double denim is an ok, acceptable and even fashionable thing here. But then I went to Amsterdam and found a beautiful light denim jacket at Mango for only 20€ and I could not resist. At first I only wore it over black leggings or occasionally a simple casual dress. But then one day when I already had my dark denim jeans on and I was starting to feel a little cold I did the unthinkable. I grabbed my denim jacket and put it on and after a quick (nervous) look in the mirror something deep in me changed and from that point I have been a double denim advocate!

 

I don't have a photo of me yet, but if Cameron Diaz does it, well need I say more?

No. 3 – Red wine. Now I had drunk red wine before living in Italy, but to be honest I never really liked it. I hated the way it hit your throat and messed with the taste of whatever food you were eating. I would take a white wine over a red any day. Basically I just liked white wines. The sweet, bubbly kind. That doesn’t actually taste like wine but more like the sparkling grape juice I always had at Christmas as a kid. But then Italy happened. At first I would accept out of politeness but now I will be the one offering! Everything I disliked about it I now love. The way it warms your throat and adds flavours to your every mouthful. In fact if I am to eat pasta with a rich tomato or meat sauce I simply feel like something is missing if it is not accompanied by a good, strong red wine. The earthier, the better!

 

Red wine -- I feel so cultured!

No. 4 – Spice. Another foodie change I did not see happening, least of all in Italy. In my food blog I mentioned our delicious homemade spicy oil that Massimo religiously drizzled over pasta and pizza and that I actively avoided despite his constant “Trust me. It’s very good!” And then I finally tried it. Now, like Massimo, I put it on almost everything and still can’t avoid his “I told you so” look every time I reach for it across the table.

 

mmmmm olio con peperoncino!

No. 5 – Seafood. Now I know this is another food one, but that’s what Italy does to you! I have really never been much of a seafood eater, in fact even eating fish was a push for me. Then, as fate would have it, I moved in with a family who own a frozen fish company. Being the good guest that I am and doing as mother dearest had taught me, I tried everything they places in front of me and as a result I have now tried (and enjoyed!) a large number of sea food including; cuttlefish, octopus, muscles, scallops, scampi, prawns and so many more!

A rather fine selection of seafood is I say so myself!

So there you have it, five of the unexpected and, while perhaps slightly superficial but nonetheless interesting, ways in which I have changed so far on this journey to discovering myself.

Their Big, Fat, Italian Wedding

In my relatively short 19 years of life, I have attended few weddings with even fewer that I remember clearly (due to very young age that is, not bad drinking habits!) So when I found out that I would be attending an Italian wedding I could hardly wait for the day to come, and when it did it exceeded all expectations and definitely set the bar high for future weddings. Better still, being the au pair to the sister of the groom, I got a front row seat to it all.



The arrival of the bride



The arrival of the bride

After a relatively stressful morning of putting hair up and then down and then somewhere in the middle, experimenting with make-up and finally hurrying into our clothes and shoes we were finally ready to leave. Squeezing all five of us in our best clothes in our Mini was a bit of a mission but we managed to arrive just on time at the beautiful Church in the centre of Censenatico. Having passed it numerous times over our beach summer holiday I was keen to finally get a look inside. It was gorgeous. Simple and slightly abstract stained glass windows shed colourful light from the back and white flowers and candles decorated tables and pews alongside the permanent statues and pictures of the Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ and God. The bride looked stunning in her white, lace-backed dress in contrast to the dark navy blue suit of the groom whose pink tie matched the sash of their two daughters, the bridesmaids. Though I understood very little of the actual ceremony as my Italian is still very basic and I do not start school until October, it was nonetheless beautiful. The meaning behind the words was clear, and hearing them in the lyrical Italian tongue added enchantingly to the overall atmosphere. When the ceremony drew to a close I managed to sneak in right beside the official photographer and was able to snap a few perfectly placed shots of the newlyweds before heading out to take my own little cone of rice to throw as the bride and groom exited. Though I have never really understood this tradition, not being particularly superstitious I don’t see how throwing hard (technically grass) seeds brings good luck but seeing the way in which the groom brought the bride lovingly into his arms, protecting her as much as he could from the onslaught of rice was a good enough reason for me. Once everyone but a few of the children had lost interest in the grains (except when one fell out of your hair on found its way into your shoe) the couple had their first, arms intertwined drink, threw white doves skyward and ridden off in their Just Married bicycle-bath it was time to head off to the post ceremony celebrations which where to take place at Villa about 30 minutes away.

The marriage ceremony

Church decorations

Post ceremony "prime spot" photo

My rice cone

 

Raining rice!

Protection in the arms of her husband

Only the kids still playing with the rice



First drink.



First drink.

Releasing white doves

 

The Just Married bike-bath



The location for the celebrations was stunning. Up in the hills it offered a wide view of the town and beach far below and contrasting rolling hills, trees various shades of green and wild flowers. The tables were set out around a large pool (in which the groom did end up in before the end of the night!) decorated in pink and white with ribbons, roses and petals. The children’s tables were strategically places away from the pool and the kids were kept happy with face painting, games and their own menu of chips and chicken. But while the children had simple foods, the adults had more than enough to feed an army!

 

The Villa

View out to sea

Lunch seating arrangements

Table Decorations

Table Decorations

Over the past 5 months it has becoming very obvious to me that food is always at the heart of every Italian celebration and this wedding was no exception. Let me just start by saying I don’t think I have EVER eaten that much food in one afternoon. EVER! I am just glad I was wearing a loose fitting dress that day! When we arrived the starters were already being served which included cheese platters, chicken, pork, salads, rice, piadini (this AMAZING Italian flat bread), fancy sausage rolls and a vast selection of wines. It was so good by the time it was time to actually start lunch I was already starting to feel full. And then I saw the lunch menu. Not one, but TWO main courses, lasagne and another pasta dish, followed by meat with potato chips, then the wedding cake and last of all a buffet of other sweet treats. And again there was ample wine on our table and an open bar available. Just looking at the list made me feel dizzy! But somehow I managed to eat at least a bit from every course which of course always tasted amazing, as well as tasting the wines and a few of the stronger post-meal, stronger liqueurs – grappa and lemoncello. However, before I was able to photograph this amazing feast, horror of horrors, my camera battery died. So I must apologise, from her on out you must try and visualise everything yourself!

Cooling off in the pool

Because it really would have been impossible to eat all that food at one time, in between each course was some for wedding entertainment, speeches, dancing and the constant arrival of gifts at the sweetheart table. Similarly to the ceremony, I was unable to understand much of the speeches, but some of the wedding games needed no translation to understand or enjoy. The first that really brought laughter to my lips was when first male guests were invited up and the blindfolded bride had to identify her husband by the feeling each man from the nape of his neck to his buttocks. Naturally, the groom kept being moved around the line so that she reached the end of the line and had to repeat the process before finally identifying her hubbies behind. And then it was the girls turn. Seeing as the bride was wearing a flouncy dress I didn’t see how the same method would work but my confusion was soon put to rest when the blind folded groom got a kiss on the check from each female guest that had come forward before he finally identified his lips of his wife.




A kiss at the Sweetheart Table

By the time the night ended, everyone was full, happy (some tipsily so) and more than anything ready for a good night’s sleep, or at least I definitely was! It was an absolutely amazing wedding, my first Italian one, and a day I will never forget!

   

Proud Kiwis

A rather large factor in Laura and my decision about accommodation in Amsterdam was if the Bosbaan would be easy to reach as the Rowing World Champs was had brought us to Amsterdam in the first place. The place we finally chose, according to information on the website and Google Maps, did seem only a short forest-bike ride away. On our first day, however, Laura and I headed off for Amsterdam city as we only had tickets for the last 4 days of rowing. However, what we didn’t realise was that the rowing was on the way to the city, and thus when after about 15 minutes of biking the trees suddenly opened up only a few meters from the big World Rowing arch it was a total surprise. Of the best kind! Though I had of course been very excited to go, suddenly seeing the entrance and even being able to hear muffled commentary from the lake I suddenly realised that yes, I was really here. In Amsterdam! To watch the Rowing World Champs. That I would once again see New Zealand’s amazing rowing athletes and be able to cheer them on just as  proudly and loudly as I had four years ago when the Champs were held at Lake Karapiro, New Zealand.

Our forest bike to the Bosbaan

The Bosbaan

Finally the day came that we could actually go, we rushed over on our bikes tickets safely stowed in our pockets ready and waiting. Once tickets were scanned we walked out the door, along the wood-chip path past various tents selling sporty rowy things and (not going to lie) stopped briefly to buy an HUGE, mouth-wateringly amazing chocolate chip cookie… I do believe that it is ok to indulge at times! As we entered the general admission I was at first actually unsure if it WAS the general admission area. Along the back were all the VIP lounges, as well as café and food tents. In front of these was a large bar surrounded by bar tables and stools until finally in front of that were more, lower tables, chairs and benches on the lakes edge. For our 60 euro for 4 days tickets I was expecting some wet, muddy grass to sit on and was incredibly and pleasantly surprised by how fancy our area was. Another thing we noticed straight away on arriving in the GA area were the two large promo posters that had the faces of the rowers cut out to make one of those stick-your-head-in-and-take-a-photo things, and before long we had taken several dozen photos before we got a little audience and felt too embarrassed to continue!

 

Laura posing in the double poster

Laura posing in the single (mens!) poster

My way to calm and collected pose smile

After exploring the immediate area of the GA we headed down towards the signposted “PICNIC” area which turned out to be a little walk to about the 500m mark where a whole bunch of international food caravans were set out in a semicircle around another central bar, with picnic tables on the water’s edge. Though we always ended up bring our own lunch, all the food looked mouth wateringly good and had we had not been such stingy broke-youths-travelling I am sure we would have indulged in that too!

 

The PICNIC area

 Now that I have set the scene I do believe it is time to get into the actual rowing! And boy, was it amazing. New Zealand is best known of course for the All Blacks and thus it is rugby that people think is our one and only sporting strong point. However, I would just like to point out that in fact New Zealand is pretty damn amazing at rowing too! Just to give a brief overview, of the 11 New Zealand crews that raced, 9 medalled (6 gold, 2 silver, 1 bronze) leading to New Zealand coming out at the TOP of the medal table! Yes, in our little country of 4.2 million people, New Zealand managed to produce rowers and crews that beat, time and time again, the rest of the world! And to be there, cheering them on was an absolute privilege. You see, last time we were cheering on our elite rowers at World Champs was in New Zealand, and thus the majority of the supporters were also Kiwis. But in Amsterdam we were definitely outnumbered, but in a way, that is what made it so special. When our crews would come down the lake, kicking off their famous sprints that seem to always win them their medals and Laura and I began our deafening cries of “GOOOOOOOO NEW ZEEEEEEEEAAAALAND!” frantically waving our flag we would always recieve numerous looks from by standers who would first seem confused, then (though I may be imagining it) slightly jealous that it was our country that had just left theirs in our wake, before a final “congratulations!” which of course we received graciously even though it was not us dying after winning a 2000m race against other world renowned crews.

 

Photo with the AMAZING Emma Twig -- we cheered loudly for her as per her request!

The women's pair

The women's lightweight double

Being creative with the NZ blades

As the days went on and New Zealand continued to win more medals and Hamish Bond and Eric Murray continued to annihilate their opponents and break world records in their new “we wanted a challenge” coxed pair event, Laura and I got more and more looks and comments on the country we are both so proud of. After the pair's for mentioned new world record we got a congratulations from a Dutch woman and when we left that day and were asked how our day was, our simple answer of “We are New Zealand” was enough to get heads turning, smiles and “Well it must have been an amazing day then!” On the final day we even managed to get some British supporters cheering on New Zealand (when Great Britain was not racing of course) and Laura and I even offered our heart-felt congratulations to them when their Lightweight Men’s Four came in third place (just over one second behind our Kiwi boys in second). Even after I had left the rowing the amazingness of our Kiwi team did not go unmentioned. While standing in the Starbucks line at the airport I was asked, “So how did you go?” At first I was, of course, really rather confused but then I remembered I was wearing my new World Rowing hoodie, and so I answered “Well, I’m from New Zealand so…” Again this was a sufficient answer to get a warm “Congratulations!” and “It’s an incredible team” and “You know I’ve been told to send our rowers there for some training!”

 

Hamish, Eric and Caleb in the coxed pair

 

Hamish, Eric and Caleb in the coxed pair

Hamish and Eric - the famous pair



Hamish and Eric on the podium



Watching the New Zealand rowers fly down the course brought back so many memories of my high school rowing making me feel all warm and fuzzy and nostalgic, and after bumping into my last season’s mentor, an old coach, and various members of the New Zealand team I was almost ready to ask them to pack me into their suitcase and take me back home so I could start rowing again! It was truly an absolutely amazing experience and I loved every moment of it. If there is one certainty I know is that if you start rowing it becomes a part of you that will remain with you for the rest of your life.

Absolutely Amazing Amsterdam

Amsterdam. What a city! Because I really do not know where to start this post, due to its (Amsterdam’s) amazingness, I am going to try something new. I will just start to write down the best bits and pieces that come to mind and hopefully it end up as a coherent piece!

 

Flight off to Amsterdam

Due to an abundance of good luck (and the existence of RyanAir) I have been able to see my best friend, Laura Bonney, once a month since her arrival in France. First in Paris, then Italy and last week; Amsterdam! We had originally planned to go there just for the World Rowing Champs (post on this next week perhaps?) but ended up making a week long holiday of it. The first 3-4 days in Amsterdam city and the last 3-4 days at the rowing. Just being able to do this with Laura gave me such joy. I always see these “travel with my best friend” photos on Facebook, and could not be happier that I actually have done it, 3 times now!

 

Our little hut

I have already written a post about how much I have come to love biking as a method of transport here in Europe, so when I got to Amsterdam I couldn’t wait to hire our bikes and start using them again. The accommodation we had booked was a hostel/camping ground on the edge of the Amsterdam Wood, about 3km from the Bosbaan (where the rowing was being held) and 9km from central Amsterdam. We hired bikes and that became our one and only form of transport, and oh how we loved our bikes! Every morning and every evening we would make that 9km ride through the Amsterdam Wood, the outskirts of the city and the famous Vondlepark.

Dutch Street



Laura biking in Amsterdam Wood

The forest section was absolutely beautiful, dense enough that you really had the feeling you were in a large forest, but not so dense that it was creepy. Parts of the path were wide avenues where the sun tickled the ground with its rays through the leaves, while other parts had thinner more bumpy roads with thick forest of either side blocking all direct sunlight. We would pass over bridges, by football fields and children’s play grounds before finally coming out right by the Bosbaan. Unless we were stopping for the rowing, we carried on through here along the outskirts of the city where the first tall, funky roofed, iconic Dutch houses began to appear next to cafes, small independent shops and kindergartens before taking a sharp left into the Vondlepark. As beautiful as the forest part of our ride was, the Vondlepark was my favourite. Anybody can read about it in guidebooks which will tell you (correctly) that this is where you see numerous people on sunny days, couples, families, sports people etc. However, until you are actually there, riding through this huge park do you really understand what they mean. Because even on rainy days, everyone is there! Business men in suits biking with a briefcase strapped behind them, musicians with violin or flute cases slung over their backs, homeless huddled together under bridges, kids practicing roller skating or climbing trees. No matter what time of day we passed through it was always busy, with life! Not in the crowded way, but somehow in a way that just made you get a positive buzz. The best way to explain it is how I described it to Laura one day as we passed through. “I love this” I said, “It’s just so full of life, it makes you want to be full of life too! It’s energising!” But I guess that statement kind of fits Amsterdam city as a whole. From the moment I was there I fell in love with it and that only grew with each passing day.

Bridge in the Amsterdam Wood

The Bosbaan

 Before I get into this next point I just want to clarify something. Now I may be completely wrong and I am not in any way saying this is fact and I might just be really ignorant to this city but here goes. One of the things I loved most about the city was that there were not lots of sights I felt I had to see. I mean of course there is lots of museums, the Van Gogh and Anne Frank Huis were the two we were able to visit, but in Florence or Paris for example there are all these sights (Il Duomo, Eiffel Tower etc etc) that I felt I HAD to see, which of course were worth seeing, but took time and replaced simple, raw exploring. However, in Amsterdam Laura and I felt that we could just walk through the streets as we liked, really discovering the city for ourselves. And for us, this was the best thing about the Amsterdam. It was through this that I found that Amsterdam, though it is not huge, is so diverse it seems impossible that it could all fit in the same place. It is truly a city that caters for everyone. There are health food shops and raw food cafes, Starbucks, MacDonalds and Burger King, and of course the coffee shops. There are cheap brand stores next to high end label designers. Bookshops with books in multiple languages, small knickknack shops, op shops and expensive home interior stores. Tattoo and piercing my fancy looking salons. Art and history museums, sport centres and impressive libraries. I mean I could list forever but I think I am getting my point across. It truly is the city of freedom. And once you have had enough of exploring for a while there is always a side of canal you can sit on and people watch and munch on fruit, cafés offering amazing stroop waffles (Lanskroon – just saying) and multiple street venders offering potato fries, poffertjes and hot dogs. How could it possibly get any better?

 

Amsterdam Canal
 

Canals and Bikes



Lanskroon Stroopwaffel

Now it is a very well-known fact that Dutch people are tall (and have big feet!) As a tall and large footed person myself, being in Amsterdam was an absolute dream. Walking down the street I felt normal sized and sometimes I would even bump into someone, and it would be their shoulder I bumped into and I would have to look up at them to apologise! I had to stand on steps in crowded areas to see over all the heads and found that almost every clothing item I tried on was not too short in the arms. However, over and above all this was the fact that I got to see tall, older women. Now I realise how strange that sounds so let me explain. Though it is not a commonly known fact about me, I do not dread old age or being a Grandma. In fact I look forward to being the Grandma who is all cuddles and always has cookies and cakes freshly baked. But whenever I thought about myself as a Grandma I kind of got stuck. What would I look like? When I think of older ladies I think of small, sweet women. I am not short and didn’t think tall could really come across as sweet. But being in Amsterdam I got to see Grandmas who were even taller than me and I was relieved to see that despite the height they still looked like lovely, sweet Grandmas. Just supersized! So I can now rest assured that I can still one day be that cuddly Grandma I want to be.

Now before I finish off I feel I must mention shoes. Because when I went shoe shopping? Well that was pure heaven. In New Zealand it was hard to find a size 42, in Italy? Impossible! So when I walked into the shoe shop and the first thing I saw was a size 44 I couldn’t have been more excited. I ended up spending a ridiculous amount of time in various shoe shops, most of which were out of my price range but looking is always free! On the first day I bought a pair of boots and wore them almost every day after that. I absolutely LOVE them with their warm sheepskin inner and their buckled sides. I also ended up buying a simple black dress shoe for a wedding I will be attending later this month (flats of course, I don’t want to tower over Italians more than I already do!) which I also absolutely love.

My new shoes and the Anne Frank Huis

 So all in all, a pretty amazing week! I am not sure how this style post will be received but I hope it’s followable and an enjoyable read!

 

 

A Spectacular Sunrise

More often than not, when I travel to wherever it is that I am travelling to, I don't truly believe I am there until I get home and look at the photos. At this point I get super excited thinking, "Oh my gosh, I was actually in London! Look it's me in front of the London Eye!" This is not to say that at the time I am not incredibly excited, but it never usually sinks in until afterwards. Or similar to how you don’t quite appreciate your summer holidays as much while you are having them as when you are in the middle of an annoyingly difficult test in the middle of your first term back and you think back to those long, hot days and wonder why you didn’t enjoy them just that little bit more at the time. However, one very fine morning last week I had a moment where I truly realised the beauty of that moment in the moment itself. This occurred whilst watching a spectacular sunrise over the Adriatic Sea.

 

Just a reference for those of you who don't actually know where the Adriatic Sea is (or like me didn't know what sea it was between Italy and Croatia!)

 For as many days (or rather mornings) I have been in Censenatico I have told myself I simply MUST get up early one morning to watch the sunrise. In our holiday location, on the east coast of Italy, the sun rises over the sea (rather than setting on it as it does on the Tuscan coat, closer to where I live). I had seen the setting sun on the sea and it was gorgeous, but I wanted to add a sunrise over the sea to my collection of beautiful things I have seen in Italy, and I was sure it would be a worthy addition. Finally, on the third to last morning I would be there in the summer of 2014, I got up before even an inkling of light had touched the sky, hopped on my bike and rode off toward the sea. With a chilly breeze reminding me it was almost autumn, I sped along trying to keep warm resulting in my arrival time rather earlier than predicted, but giving me unexpected time to sit and enjoy the slow and gorgeous colour changes on the horizon. And had I been prophetic, I could not have chosen a better morning!

 

My first view of the sunrise

Distant rain on that vast sea

Once seated on one of the vacant sun beds, ignoring that fact that my toes were beginning to ache with the cold, I took a proper look at what I was seeing. Above the still dark sea was about an inch of clear, coloured sky above which was a line of abstract clouds, flat bottomed with fluffy tops, before the clear sky continued on above. In that inch of clear sky above the sea, pinks, oranges, reds and yellows swam together for miles in both directions making it almost impossible to decide at what exact point the sun would appear. The clouds above were dark greys, almost black in parts with the top ‘fluffy’ part whose outlines matched the warm hues below. Under the largest of these dark clouds I could just make out slanted lines of grey giving away the fact that despite the clear sky above my head, somewhere in the distant sea there was a heavy rain fall. Distant enough not to affect me, but close enough that I could see its natural beauty. That morning the sun rose like Hazel Grace fell in love, slowly and then all at once. That stunning scene remained in front of me, unchanged for over 10 minutes when all of a sudden within the space of a couple minutes the colour that stretched so far seemed to be pulled into a centre point, right in front of me, and it was there that the sun broke over the edge of the world (almost blinding me in the process!) heralding that the day had begun.  

Outlines on the 'fluffy' clouds

 

Sun breaking over the sea

Sun breaking over the sea

 

Once the sun had cleared the sea and was heading up through the layer of cloud, I headed off, walking down the beach a little ways. Watching the men raking the sand into tidy lines, looking over the empty sunbeds that would soon be occupied by thousands of holiday makers. Passing or being passed by other early morning risers who were likewise enjoying the beauty of this little daily miracle we so often forget to appreciate.

 

Morning task of raking the sand

 

Those other early morning risers

 

Sun through the clouds

 

Sun through the clouds

 

The sun is really up - what a beautiful day!