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!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There's No Place Like Home

When I first decided to travel, or rather when I began telling people about my decision, I was told every time without fail, after the “wow that’s so great!”, that missing home was really rather awful and apparently inevitable. Some said it would happen as soon as I got on the plane, others were certain that it would take a few weeks to a month. Either way a time would come that I was sure to suddenly wish I was home with my mummy and daddy and cuddly teddy and wonder why on earth I decided to leave beautiful New Zealand. And so I got on the plane. And I did not miss home. I got off the plane 35 hours later, and I still did not miss home. I travelled for a month and, you guessed it, I STILL did not miss home. By the time I got to Italy and settled in with my new family I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me because I still had not had the heart wrenching tears and unbearable homesickness I had been warned about. It has now been 5 months and I finally realised something. I have been missing home the whole time. Not in the way that everyone described, in fact I have only cried twice since leaving home, neither time having anything to do with homesickness. That got me to thinking and, you see, I believe everyone misses home in their own, unique way. What I have found is that I have been blessed by my lucky stars that I miss home, my family and friends in a very different way than I ever expected. When I remember them or think of them - that is me missing them. I don’t cry heartfelt tears, but I miss home as much as the next person, but just in the most beautiful way possible. And what’s more, I find myself missing the weirdest things I never even thought were particularly special!

 

Leaving on a jet plane

I miss home when I see Beatrice giving her mother endless kisses by remembering with a smile the hugs and kisses I would get every day from my mother, the last squeezie hug I had given her before I got on that white and blue Air New Zealand plane, and being excited for the day when I would finally be able to wrap my arms around her again. Whenever I go running I think about Dad working out at the gym and can’t wait to go home so we can go together, try and beat each other’s leg press and laugh at the majority of people who seriously need to learn how to use a rowing machine properly. I constantly find myself thinking of something right in the middle of the day that I REALLY want to tell my big sister, and bombard her with messages telling her to wake up, even though I know I won’t get a reply until her morning (my evening). I will see a beautiful horse in a field and wish I could be watching my baby sister riding again who long ago surpassed any ounce horse riding ability I ever had. When I think of my family I always end up smiling, because I know despite how much I miss them, my missing them will only make our reunion that much sweeter.

 

My last dinner with my amazing family

My beautiful baby sister

 Sometimes I will just be sitting eating lunch, reading, or playing with the kids and suddenly I will remember something about New Zealand that I never realised I had found special. I will think fondly back to the way that the light always came into my bedroom window in dancing shadows due to the large tree in our back yard, with a slightly red hue from my curtains. Or our stupid driveway that had so many potholes, not matter how hard I tried I could never find a smooth route up. Every time without fail I would always ended up uncontrollably bumping up and down like an excited child on my car seat. I miss seeing my parents heading off every Saturday to the farmers market and knowing they would return at 2pm with a fresh loaf of Maunganui Gold from the French baker, fresh veges and if I was lucky some delicious bacon which would all be compiled into the perfect BLT lunch. On the topic of food, who knew anyone could miss rolled oats, soft brown sugar and Pic’s natural peanut butter to the point that you make a shopping list to buy the above (minus the Pic’s peanut butter as that is an NZ only, unfortunately) next time you are in England!

Oh the simple pleasures..

I often think of the simple pleasure and joy of having my own car that I took so for granted. Being able to drive 30 minutes from home to the beautiful Mount Maunganui and to be able to look over the whole of Tauranga after a short(ish) slightly pant-inducing walk to the top. Or to drive only 15 minutes from the bottom of my road to reach the top of the Kaimais and look out over Matamata way at the endless green and raw beauty that is New Zealand. I used to laugh when people gawked, ooohed and aaahhed over water falls or the “wild” New Zealand bush. It was so normal to me! But oh, what I would give to stand among that pesty, yellow gorse, listening to the symphony of birds and the endless thrumming of cicadas.  To know that, if I wanted, I could drive for hours with the only sign of civilisation being the road I was on and the occasional farm house with a barking dog, letting me know it was not abandoned. And to stop at a petrol station, buy a mars bar even though I know I shouldn’t and continue on my way, munching that delicious goodness, window down and wind in my hair.

Top of the Mount view

 

Beautiful, wild and green New Zealand

And then horror of horrors, I find myself missing a memory I thought I would have banished from my mind. My last year of school which seemed so endless at the time, seems a too short sweet memory filled with coffee dates during free periods, group study that turned into doodle sessions and invaluable time and fun with friends that we will never be able to have in quite the same way. I sometimes even fondly remember my scratchy school skirt, my polo that always managed to stretch into the weirdest shapes or my school jumper that would never fail to receive a comment due to the hole I had somehow acquired under the armpit and that despite telling myself numerous times to fix, I never did.

Did I really say I missed that uniform!?

Even now as I write I find myself smiling and laughing over the memories I have and how much I miss it all. I love where I am, I truly do, and I can now say with certainty that my life has taken me on a course which does not lead back to New Zealand at the end of this year. But I will continue to miss my beautiful country, the beautiful people that fill it and keep the memories in the front of my mind, always reminding me what an amazing place it is that I get to call my home.

The place I get to call my home

 

 

Finally Five!

Last Sunday was the 5^th birthday of the youngest member of my Italian family, Beatrice. She had been so excited to turn five that the whole week before she started telling everyone that she was already five years old, not four! This frustrated her big brother Giacomo who always want to do things the right way and thus was adamant that she could not be five until her birthday. Which, of course, is very true! However, Sunday the 3^rd of August did finally arrive and when I saw Beatrice and wished her a happy birthday with a cuddle and a kiss on her check she could not stop smiling.

 

 

 As per request, I had woken up a little earlier than her so that I could make pancakes as a special birthday breakfast. Once we had a plate piled high, we dug right in spreading a generous portion of Nutella over the golden brown pancake. In no time at all there were chocolate covered fingers and faces and a silence that is only ever heard whilst eating good food. Finally breakfast was finished, the chocolaty mess cleaned up and it was time for presents. Because Beatrice will be starting ballet in September, from her parents she received an entire ballerina set, a tutu, skirt, cardigan, tights and shoes all in a beautiful baby pink. She was so proud of her gift that she out it all on straight away before suddenly becoming too shy to show us any of her twirls. However, as soon as she though nobody was looking she did a sneaking one foot pirouette and a very cute pleased with herself expression crept onto her face. It was then my turn. I pulled out a bag with three individually wrapped presents (though I could have wrapped them together, everyone knows unwrapping is the best part!) She first opened a packet of glittering pink stickers that are able to not only be stuck on paper, but almost anything – including clothes! It was quickly decided that these would decorate her ballet clothes. Once the pink wrapping was pulled from the second gift, she looked up confused. “What?” she asked holding out the box. On the front was a picture of a rag doll, though it was clear that this was not a doll. It was a box. I explained that it was all the bits of material and thread and buttons that would make the rag doll, but we would have to do the sewing ourselves! Once she realised she did not stop asking when we could start sewing! The third and last gift also fitted well with the ballet theme, being cute pink clips that stood out in a beautiful contrast in her dark mahogany hair.

 

Munching on birthday breakfast pancakes

 

Opening her make-your-own rag doll

Once all the presents were unwrapped it was already 11:30am and so there was only time to get all ready before heading into the car and off to the Tuscan coast for lunch. Though the weather was not at all as summery as one would expect in early August, it was not raining so when we arrived at the cliff side restaurant it was still possible to sit outside and look out over the vast blue ocean. The lunch itself was delicious, and consisted of a fish platter and mussels for starters followed by pasta and tomato sauce for the kids and absolutely delicious fried fish for Massimo, Filomena and me. The meal was nicely accompanied by a delicate white wine and some scrummy, crusty white bread. Beatrice had insisted on wearing her new ballet clothes out for lunch, and once she had had her fill, she walked onto a clear section of floor and began showing off her twirls for all to see, her shyness left behind and forgotten with the scrunched up wrapping paper in which the gifts had arrived. With full bellies and happy smiles photos were taken and then we were back on the road, heading home. The rest of the day was spent relaxing and not doing too much of anything until the grandparents, uncles and aunt arrived to share Beatrice’s Peppa Pig birthday cake. A perfect end to a lovely day.

The wild weather waves

 

Twirls in the resturant

 

Gazing out to sea..

 

Our table

 

Amazing crusty bread

 

Our selection of starters

 

Fantastic fried fish dish

 

"Family" photo