TravelStream™ news feed for member gavinc on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/gavinc en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Thu, 30 Oct 2003 05:30:42 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056839340/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056839340/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056839340/tpod.html Thu, 30 Oct 2003 05:30:42 -0500 Ches and Gavin return to France and Italy for 7 weeks in May-July 2002.

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Trattoria Carducci at Fonti del Clitunno, near Pigge, Italy

Wednesday 12th JuneThis was to be the day of the "SlowTravelers" lunch at Taverna Del Pescatore. We decided to invite David and Chris to join us, and following lunch, visit Trevi and Spello. We couldn't remember much of our visit to Trevi in 2000, and in Spello, we wanted to buy a Norberto print. I thought I should refresh my memory with a read of the guide books. While doing this, why not check out the entry for "Taverna Del Pescatore". Closed Wednesdays!!!!!! EXCEPT in summer. Better check. I had thought Megan was making this booking for us, and might join us if she wasn't committed with her own business (Villa Rosa).We asked Rebecca to phone and check that a) they were open for lunch and, b) we had a booking. The phone numbers in the "Rough Guide" and the "Cadogan" were different. They also proved to both be wrong. Eventually she tracked down the number, phoned and confirmed that they were closed.As Elizabeth and Chuck, and Judith (Decobabe) would be there expecting us, we decided to meet them there and then decide on an alternative venue. Rebecca recomended a restaurant in the main piazza in Trevi, as many of her guests had recomended it.Every time we had passed through Pigge in the past four days, we had noted the signs to Taverna Del Pescatore. We established that there were two turnoffs to Pigge, so we shouldn't have any problems. We wandered the hill roads in and around Pigge, and every time we tried a new one, the signs to the restaurant dried up. Fifteen minuti later, we decided to return to the main road and apply some logic. This is something street signs in Italy defy. Now if the sign on the main road (despite having either been set at a strange angle or turned), actually meant deviate right and then go straight ahead, where might that take us? It took us onto the other side of the main road from Pigge (that's to the right if you are heading from Assisi to Spoletto), the low side of the road. You know, down into the low side where streams and rivers might expect to run. And there it was. And there also were Elizabeth and Chuck and Judith. They had arrived independently of each other, and had also wandered the village on the high side of the road like us.Judith paid out on me, rejected my plea that I had thought Megan had made the booking, rejected Trevi as an alternative for lunch, and increased the burden of guilt by advising that another friend and her/his Italian friend would also be joining us, and if we moved, wouldn't find us. I left everyone sitting in the shade of the closed restaurant's terrace, with the "babbling brook" (that's Cadogan's description) to talk to them. I don't think they could hear what it had to say over Judith's voice. I headed further south down the #3. In 2000, we had bought a porchetta roll from a van at the Trevi market, and pulled over just south of Pigge to eat it in a fenced off park with trout ponds. While eating, we realised that we were infact in the grounds of a trattoria. You could either pay to catch your own fish and have it cooked, or dine outdoors overlooking the ponds. All was shaded by willows and other trees. Very quiet and tranquil. I noted it in my 2000 journal. When preparing for this holiday, I decided that I would like to dine here, and went searching for it on the internet. I entered "trout", "restaurant" "trevi', "pigge". Only one hit.....my own site.Over the past four days, we had passed this trattoria, but didn't give it any thought because of the decision to eat at del Pescatore. Now I needed it to be open. With the temperature well into the 30's, I pulled into the drive on the bend. I dashed into a restaurant, thinking it might be the main entrance. It was a different restaurant with only an indoor dining room and it didn't seem too cool. Back into the car and around the corner. Pulled over just past the 50 metres of chain fence and planter boxes, dashed between the trout ponds, spoke to the waitress (owner?), checked the menu, said I would return with 10 people, and ran back to the car. U-turn?, no troubles. Back up the road to del Pescatore. I claimed to have salvaged the situation, but I don't think Judith knew I had been gone. Judith wrote a note to her friend, and we left it under a rock on the wall beside the entrance to del Pescatore. She decided to do another trawl through Pigge, and the rest of us headed down the road to Trattoria Carducci at Fonti del Clitunno. Judith joined us there 10 minutes later, and she was followed in by Brian and Ruth several minutes later. I was never sure how this happened. They had had lunch with Judith the previous day, knew about todays lunch, and decided to join us. Fortunately they had seen Judith's note at del Pescatore, and had left it for it's intended recipient, who never turned up.Can I take a deep breath now? How about an aqua minerali? A vino roso de casa? That was better. We settled back in the shade and enjoyed our lunch and the company. Unfortunately I didn't get to speak much with Elizabeth or Chuck, and would have enjoyed getting to know them. At least there will be a face to put to the internet communications. We established that Ruth is originally from Norfolk Island, but a long term resident of New Zealand, and that both Ruth and Brian are jewelers, specialising in glasses frames. Elizabeth is a librarian.Ches had "Gamberidi fiume in salsa verde", which Brian helped her figure out how to shell, and "Agnello scottadito". The first was a plate filled with fresh water crayfish in a green sauce. I didn't establish if it was parsley, basil or maybe spinach or a type of lettuce. The lamb was grilled lamb cutlets, and as designated "scottadito", allowed to pick the bones. This was also accompanied by a plate of grilled vegetables.I had the "Carpaccio di trota salmonata". This was thin slices of raw trout on a bed of sliced potatoes. I followed this with the "Strangozzi ai gamberi di fiume". I assume 'strangozzi" is a ribbon past like tagliatelle. The sauce appeared to be a reduced stock made of the gamberi shells, with just a little tomato. Possibly also pureed gamberi in the sauce, with just a scattering of gamberi meat. We farewelled each other, and Ches, David, Chris and I went off to Trevi. We parked at the top of the town, strolled for a while, met up again and went off on our main mission: to buy a Norberto in Spello. We parked just outside Porta Consolare, as is my want. In through the roman gate with a small tree growing from the top, the excavated foundations just inside on the left, and then the beginning of Via Cavour which becomes Via Garibaldi and runs up through the centre of town. It is lined with gift shops, galleries, and produce stores. David and Chris ducked into one for some alabaster and another for a jar of truffle pesto.You can't pass anywhere near this town without visiting Santa Maria Maggiore to see the frescoes by Pinturicchio. I think even David was surprised at how taken he was by these paintings, as he dug in his pocket for a coin to light it up again after five minutes or so of admiring them.Finally on to the Norberto gallery. There is an entry foyer with half a dozen or so large paintings, and then you descend the stairs into a labyrinth of 8 or so rooms in the basement, chockers with paintings.Norberto must be in his 60's, and has a well established reputation for quirky paintings featuring Assisi and the umbrian hill towns. They are stylised hill towns , many with monks ice scating, harvesting wheat, flying over the town etc. We preferred those without any monks, and just the soft pinks of the town with bright blue skys. On our last visit, we had spent an hour or more in his main gallery here in Spello. His catalogue then sold for $aus200.00 ($us120.00 at the time when the aus $ was worth 65c). The catalogue is now 200 euro. Good god!To cut a long story short, as Chris sagely advised, "for the money, you really have to like it". The range of prints available wasn't all that large, and the only painings we really liked, weren't available as prints. We negotiated a "cash" price for a small print at 240 euros. We decided to sleep on it. Chris and David advised us to visit another gallery in Assisi, where the works of Massimo Cruciani are for sale. He paints onto glass, which is framed, elevated from a backing board. They are also available as prints. We slept soundly, and haven't given Norberto another thought. Like a homeing pigeon, I locked in on a bar in the section of Via Garibaldi that narrows at the top. Just a few outdoor tables looking back down the street. I had a sensational Gelato here in 2000, and could never remember what it was called. A English woman on the net responded to my posting that she had had one here as well and that it was one of the special gelatos. Anyway, it was so hot, we decided to sit and have a beer first. 16 euros for three beers and a martini must mean that Spello has arrived. Still don't know what the gelato was, but they were again pretty special.As we drove along the narrow country road that runs parallel with the motorway between Spello and Assisi, we noted that the gardens and grounds of Villa Fidelia seem in much better order than in 2000. The villa and gardens look magnificent, and we plan on visiting in the next week. Also noticed that a large complex of buildings that had been crumbling away on our last visit, is being restored. I had photographed it as a total wreck in 2000, and even now, it is rising from the ashes. Turns out to be the 12th century church San Claudio. I hadn't appreciated that I had powers of anticipated untill I just now looked it up in "Rough Guide". They say that it "was raised from the ashes of an old roman building."Home by 8.00. What with the heat, we are finidng that if we have a reasonable lunch, we aren't really up to dinner. Another drink with Bob and Margaret in the courtyard instead.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056839100/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056839100/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056839100/tpod.html Mon, 08 Sep 2003 06:57:25 -0400 Ches and Gavin return to France and Italy for 7 weeks in May-July 2002.

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Montedinove, Ripatransone and Offida, Italy

Tuesday 11th JuneWe decided to walk to the village before breakfast. It is only ten minutes around the road, and from the town gate, no more than 15 minutes to the top of the village where there are two large churches on the top of the hill. Judi says there are five churches in the village, so we can only assume that it used to have a large population. Currently there are around 1000 residents, but this swells to 4,000 during summer. Most ot the appartments are owned by families, who have moved to the cities for work, but return for their summer holidays. There is an Egyptian chap who lives on the coast at Grottammare, who runs the only restaurant in town, the Ristorante Gambero". He gets up in the morning to buy his seafood, drives the one hour to Montefortino, opens for lunch, closes for 5 hours in the afternoon, then re-opens for dinner, closes and heads home around mid-night. He has asked Judi to quote him a price for a "bed" for five hours a day.The churches didn't look to have had much spent on them in recent times, while the houses are in excellent condition. it is an extremely clean, tidy and well maintained village. One chap has a "dead" ape, parked on the side of the road near the top of the village. It serves as a storage shed for his wood. It is neatly stacked in a wire cage on the back and all enclosed in a large plastic sheet. Judi says that the church has good attendances, and massive ones when pilgrims come to visit a shrine around the hill. They attend a service in the village and then there is a procession to the shrine where a young blind girl re-gained her sight. Many of the villages have employment outside the village in real estate, tourism, law etc., but it doesn't bring any money into the community. Local businesses are; an extremely large water bottling plant (disguised among the trees in the valley), and a shoe factory. The shoe factory is for extremely high quality shoes, is owned by Danny's father, and is in the village itself. We didn't stumble upon it. While Danny conducts tours to shoe factories, he doesn't to his fathers. His father won't let him.We returned for breakfast, and what a breakfast. If we didn't need to eat after lunch yesterday, we weren't going to need to eat again today. Orange juice, coffee, toast (real toast), fried egg, tomatoes, real bacon (smuggled in from the U.K.), mushrooms, fat sausages and potatoe croquetts. A massive meal.We finally left at 11.00. Our starts are getting later and later. Because we had planned on visiting Montedinove, Ripatransone and Offida, we didn't think we had time for Amandola which is just 10 minutes up the road from Montefortino. I know we will eventually regret just passing the side of the village as we headed for Montedinove. The countryside that unfolded as we drove east along the 433, was just sensational. Villages and towns perched on hill tops, patchwork fields in strange shapes and sizes, different colours with crops we didn't recognise. The latter is due to the fact that the region was heavily farmed by share croppers. Unlike Umbria and Tuscany, where large sections of the countryside are crowded with factories, this part of Marche at least, is almost purely rural. Absolutely fantastic vistas on all sides, and totally unfair to the driver. Montidinove doesn't appear in many guidebooks. I had prepared all our plans for Marche based on Marche tourist websites, and advice from people such as Bill Thayer. Most marche sites require translating and consequently are torturous to read. The best in english is www.paradisepossible.com.LearningTours8.htmThis site advised that Montidinove has "a delightful tiny piaza looking out over the Marche countryside.". What it doesn't tell you, is that it is more like a small grassed park with shade trees and shrubs, plenty of bench seats and a low wall that you can lean on to look out over the countryside. We were fortunate that we had passed fields of poppies on the way into town, so went in search of a vantage point to photograph them. That's why we discovered this wonderfull little park. We weren't so lucky with the remains of Saint Thomas a Becket. For a start, we had difficulty finding Ciesa San Tommaso. An elderly woman sitting in her doorway didn't have a clue. Now, either the church has no significance to her or the Italian I tried, "scusi, dove Ciesa San Tommaso, per favore", wasn't appropriate. Dick Hill had explained that there is a Marche dialect, and the elderly use it more than most (for obvious reasons-well, Italian as she is currently spoke, was only introduced into Italian schools after the second world war, so those over 70, probably missed out, and never felt the need to learn the new "tuscan" based language). Rebecca also told us that an old Umbrian expression goes something like "better the plague than a marche at your door"- a reperence to the fact that the Marche provided the popes tax collectors.Anyway, I digress once again. We stumbled (we do that a lot), on the church, as we were leaving the town. It is set back in its small piazza, opposite the street that runs from the middle of town onto the man road that passes across country. Last year was the 400th anniversary of the re-location of Thomas a Beckets remains to this church, so it is all spruced up, freshly painted and restored. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Tom. There was a shrine inside, with every type of walking stick or crutches from over the last couple of huindred years, but no "gilded glass cask". He could have been out back of the altar, but the curtains were closed and we aren't inclined to just walk around the main altar in a church. So we weren't able to pay our respects to Tom. He comes to be here because the catholics feared that Henry V111 would desecrate his tomb, so they had his remains removed from Canterbury Cathedral (where he had lain for 400 years) and shipped to Europe for protection. So Tom has now been in Italy for as long has he was in England , and would probably have difficulty in deciding where to call home.On we drove. Across the most magnificent patchwork countryside to Ripatransone (ripa-TRAN-so-nay). I can't do any better than the "Marche Voyager" site www.le-marche.com/Marche/html/ripatransone.htmWhat they said, is what we saw:"High on a ridge above the northern slopes of the attractive valley of the Tesino river stands the small hill town of Ripatransone. True, its not a major site but if you want a morning away from the nearby coastal towns it makes a pleasant outing.The crumbling old town walls that greet you set the tone- the place has yet to suffer invasive restoration. It's warm pink brick is much the same as it has been for centuries.The first surprise is the relative grandeur of its buildings for the modest size of the place. During the sixteenth century the town experienced a period of prosperity and prestige, and was elevated to the staus of a city with its own cathedral.The towns uniqueness, however, comes from a tiny alleyway- it is only 43 centimetres wide and the narrowest in all Italy. And there are plenty of other tight lanes to explore."That's about it folks, although they might have mentioned large piazzas, porticos. a wonderful 18th century theatre (which we only got to see photographs of, because it was closed between 1.00 and 4.00). I intend writing to the town tourist office to find out more information about the history of the town and therefore the relevence of certain building and the narrow lanes. I would imagine that if the defences were breached, soldiers wouldn't easily navigate the narrow lanes, and therefore the defences would only have to be organised at the end of the wider streets. Nothing was open except a bar, where we sat out under the portico next to the entrance to the theatre, with a drink. I couldn't buy any of the wine from yesterdays lunch, which was made in this town. I therefore hoped to buy some in Offida.We now headed back south west across more stunning coutryside to Ofidda. We parked in the middle of town, next to a beautiful fountain. We filled our water bottle with cool water from the fountain. The town appeared to be about the size of Spello. Again I can only quote "paradisepossible":"The beguiling hill town of Offida is one of the Southern Marche's smaller gems. The old centre stands nobly on its own plug of rock neatly separated from the modern part of town. The place still has an old-fashioned air about it and little has yet been over-restored. ....First stop is the unusual triangular main piazza dominated by the beautiful town hall- one of the finest examples of 15th century civic architecture in the Marche. The building's loverly upper loggia and swallowtail battlements give the square true class." They might also have mentioned that this building houses the Theatre which is being restored.They also don't bother to advise that the entrance is through a gate in a massive wall with low towers. A most impressive entrance to a renaissance town with very clean streets and houses well maintained. I had the impression that many of the residents are fairly well off, and probably commute to work in larger towns on the coast. It had the air of a town that doesn't need tourists.They also refer to the fact that they still produce lace in Offida. No mention that even with the rest of the town shut up like a prison between 1.00 and 4.00, the women are out in the side streets, in front of their homes crocheting. They use large round padded balls of cloth on a frame, and lay the material on it as they work. As we had a long drive back to Assisi ahead of us, we couldn't wait for the Enoteca tor the supermarketo to open. They weren't opening till 4.20. We will just have to hope that the boys in Firenze can locate the wines we wanted to buy. The road out of town runs down hill on the eastern side, and affords an excellent view of the church of Santa Maria della Rocca. I'm beginning to suspect that most tourist information is written by cross country hikers. paradisepossible says that this church "...stands a little way from the main piazza, along via Roma." Try 700 metres or so. From our vantage point on the road below the town, the description made more sense: The Romanesque Gothic church is one of the area's most important examples of Piceno monastic art. It is imposing, sitting alone on the highest end of the ridge, looking out on the surrounding countryside and back down into the town itself. It was originally a Longoboard castle, passed to the Abbey of farfa around 1 000, and in 1330 rebuilt in its current form. There is almost no external decoration. "The upper church, with it's single, notably high nave and truss beam ceiling, is reached by a spiral staircase. Note the recently restored 14th century frescoes in the apse. The altar is also interesting - it is made from a stone sarcophagus from the Roman period and carved with dancers and bunches of grapes."Today proved the folly of trying to cover too much in a day. We consoled ourselves with the thought that this was just a reconoitering trip. We have decided that we will return for a week or two in the future. The only way to experience Marche is to visit one town in the morning, drive around to enjoy the countryside and photograph those villages and towns that you won't actually explore. Then stop for a longish lunch and at 3.00 or 4.00, start walking a second town and wait for it to open up again. Just two towns in a day, with long enough to explore. As there is very little information available, it will take time to seek things out, and to reflect on what you are seeing.We left Offida at just after 4.00 and were home by 6.30. A country road south to the motorway, and then a comfortable run as far as Ascoli Piceno, before the run up into the Monti Sibillini, through the tunnel to Norcia. It is a scenic drive and slow traffic just provides the opportunity to enjoy it at greater leisure. Ches will remind me of this statement when I again loose patience with slow moving traffic on country roads.At home, we joined Bob and Margaret and David and Chris for drinks in the courtyard, but still made an early night of it.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056838620/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056838620/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056838620/tpod.html Mon, 08 Sep 2003 06:13:06 -0400 Ches and Gavin return to France and Italy for 7 weeks in May-July 2002.

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Norcia, Piano Grande, Ascoli Piceno, Montefortin0, Italy

Monday 10th JuneWe had planned on getting away by 8.00, but didn't wake up till 8.10. We left at 9.10, and headed for Norcia. It was a much shorter trip than I had remembered, so we were parked outside the town walls by 10.40. The trip up the Nera and Como valleys was exactly as we remembered. Narrow valleys with villages perched on cliffs above the road. We plan on actually visiting some of them in the next two weeks. We parked outside the eastern gate this time (western last time), as a parking spot was available out the front of a pharmacy. It was a parking meter spot however, requiring a ticket to be displayed on the dashboard. There was a machine right in front of the car, and as I sat there, I tried to figure out the cost. I couldn't seem to find anything familiar in the Italian instructions on the machine, and when I asked Ches, she was bewildered. "What machine are you looking at?" I pointed. She pointed to the ticket machine 15 metres to my left. I looked back at the machine in front of the car, and registered that I had the choice of 5 different types of condoms.Ches made a b-line for Brancaleone da Norcia. They used to have a large range of jars of truffle and olive pestos etc, but now have either sold out, or have reverted to their core business, which is pork products. A tree of 50 or more hams on the right hand side, strings of sausages (soft and hard), Salamis, everything. Given that the tourist buses from Rome, bringing Italians to buy from the most famous Norcherias in Italy, seem to come to Brancaleone first, they may have been stripped of their other produce. They still have a small range of aged cheeses as well, however we limited ourselves to sausages, a salami (cinghialina [boar] )and prosciutto (siena goccina).Photographs in the piazza, and then back toward the gate for an espresso, sitting out on the sidewalk. We watched the locals, identified a pasticeria across the street, and left with custard filled pastries. As we drove off, looking for the road to Piano Grande, we skirted the walls of the town and came upon a woman doing the washing at a communal washing shed. A three trough structure of stone with tiled roof. I did a u-turn, drove back, stopped, drew her attention, pretended to photograph the Sibilini mountains, kept turning back to photograph her and she kept catching me. I din't get to photograph her, and left embarased.Up into the Sibilini mountains to Piano Grande. We had sent David and Chris up here to see the wildflowers on Sunday, and they hadn't been particularly enthusiastic. I figured that europeans get to see wildflowers so often that they are hard to impress. As we crested the last corner and hill, we prepared ourselves. Up and over....and....nothing!!!!!!!!!!! Worse than last time, almost no flowers. The clouds were so low, we could barely see a couple of hundred metres down the Piano Grande. Very dissapointing. Rather than retrace our steps back down the mountain to the tunnel that is 5km long and takes you through the mountains, we opted to the slow mountain road down the other side. Aren't we glad, as here were the wildflowers. The side of the road and slopes of the mountains had large pockets of beautiful blue, burgundy, yellow and purple wildflowers. Orta lept out of the car and insisted he be photographed frolicking in the fields of flowers.We drove on down the mountains into Marche. The road doesn't get any wider, and what with roadworks, was quite slow to Ascoli Piceno. Beautiful scenery however, and Arquata del Tronto high on the left and Acquasanta Terme (where the legions used to rest after the mountain crossing), make the journey interesting. The sky on this side of the mountains was clearing and it was becoming quite warm, and by the time we reached Ascole Piceno (ass-colly pish-ino), we had our first clear sky.We followed the signs to "centro". We had a map of the town, but had read that it is only the medieval center of town that is worth visiting, so decided to just find a parking spot and then locate ourselves on the map. As usual, I found a spot outside the gate that leads in to Piazza Arringo, right in front of the movie theatre and beside the police station. No indication that it was actually for parking, but with French tourist plates on the car, I figure that parking police don't see it being worth their while to book us.We made straight for Piazza del Popolo, as it was now 1.30 pm and time for lunch. The Cadogan Guide recommends Ristorante Tornasacco. The Crawfords absolutely recommend Tornasaco. One of the most memorable and extensive lunches we have ever had. The was only one table of three diners when we arrived, and non from half way through our meal. As with our lunch at San Michele, it kind of detracts from the atmosphere when you dine alone, however we had a very attentive waiter who insisted on explaining every course. We had little Italian, he absolutely no English, so we only gleaned bits and pieces.We decided to have the degustatione menu. While it looked extensive, that wasn't the reason for ordering (After all, it didn't list any prices). We ordered it because the full menu was so full of regional specialties that we dind't comprehend, we decided to have "a little of everything". Wrong, it turned out to be a lot of everything.We started with a prosecco and a small bowl of beans cooked in tomatoes with a slice of toast. (crostini?). We have since been told that throughout central Italy, most begin their meal with a very small bowl of beans. The waiter then wheeled over a trolly in which three haunches of prosciutto were mounted on carving cradles. He sliced off thin slices, also sliced salamis, around 8 differen't types of meats, 2 cheeses, 4 different breads (focacce, rye, rosetta and a whole grain) and a bowl of marinated/pickled vegetables. Ches couldn't handle the volume, however, I couldn't resist and therefore showed little restraint.Prima: Home made taglionini with a lamb ragout. Ches maintaines that after this course, my tablecloth looked like an aboriginal hand art painting. At this point I was replete.Secondi: Fritto Misto- lamb cutlet, zucchini, eggplant, artichoke, olives stuffed with tuna, breaded and fried, and a cube of cheese and a cube of what turned out to be flour, egg and sugar, both crumbed and fried. Ches kept insisting that there was another course to come, and I was alarmed. As we discovered late, what the waiter had been miming at the beginning, was that we should only have one antipasto between us, and one secondi. Thank God!Formagio: Pecorino and honey with a chiolled liqueur of "an ancient wine". At this point, I was sure I could taste just a hint of fennel, and the waiter beamed and responded "si, si, Finnochio"Dolce: Crema Pinoli tart, served with vino passitoand lemon delicious with vino particulare (Dulcis in Fundo '98, Marche Bianco tipica vino de "Muffe Nobile" Affide). Again we struggled with the waiter to determine the nature of this desert wine. We struggled with the language, but I picked up on "gorgonzola". Me thinks!!!! I think he meant that it is made with fruit that has turned mouldy. Could it be the "Muffe Nobile" is our "Noble Rot"? Kent's electronic translator has just confirmed "muffa" is mould. Where am I going to buy a bottle of this? My life depends upon it? It is made in Offida, the last town we will visit tomorrow, so I will get a bottle there.I almost forgot our wine. We had a bottle of Catellano Roso, Piceno 1998, Pharus (10 euro). I think it was actually a Piceno Superior, which is a designation for wines produced at Ripertansone, not for it being a better wine that "Piceno". We will pass through Ripertansone tomorrow as well, so I will have to seek it out, as this was one of the most mellow and full bodied of reds we have had in Italy.Cafe Ascolano.I was absolutely stuffed to the gills.At 3.00 pm we emerged into the piazza. Ches did some window shopping, I some photography, and then we set out for the scenic northern side of town. Down via Solestra to the Ponte Romano Augusteo. As it's name suggests, a roman bridge. Photographed it for Bill Thayer (and me). From tne far side of the bridge, you can also look back at the town and see the towers along via Soderini. The Cadogan guide maintains that there are as many as in San Gimignano, however, they just aren't as proiminent as in San Gimignano. Maybe we just missed the main vantage point.By 4.30 we were back in Piaza del Popolo, as were large numbers of locals engaging in "passegiata". Kids kicking a soccer ball around (what with the world cup in full swing, if a child is not already a soccer "freak", then he will be by the end of the tournament. An elderly gentleman (80's), dressed up in three piece suit and hat, stood under the portico and surveyed everyone coming and going for 20 minutes. He then did a stroll through the centre of the piazza in search of anyone he knew. We had a coffee and mineral water sitting under an ubrella out the front of Bar Meletti, a fantastic Art Nouveau bar . The entire piazza is paved in travertine. Cadogan uses the word "Shines". Not really, but it is an impressive. It is a large piazza and is enclosed by impressive building such as the Bar Meletti, the 13th.c Palazzo dei Capitani del Popolo (redone in 16th.c after the papal governor set it on fire) with a wonderful central courtyard, the side wall of the church of San Francesco (13th.c) across the bottom of the piazza, and the 16th.c, Loggia dei Mercanti up the other side. By the time we had strolled through Piazza Arringo (which is basically a municipal car park), passing the two renaissance fountains of dragons and seahorses, entered the Catherdral to see the Carlo Crivelli polyptych, and the Palazzo Arringo courtyard ( a beautiful and tranquil garden that is in marked contrast to the largly grubby town), it was now close to 7.00 pm, and we still had to drive into uncharted mountains in search of Villa Rosi at Montefortino. By pure fluke, I managed to get us jammed into the peak hour traffic, decided to take a left, followed cars into streets lined with warehouses and factories, down the hill, past the soccer stadium, and well I'll be, there was the main road on the far side of town that is the main road between the coast and Pescia. Talk about another luck fluke. We knew we had to double back toward Pescia for about 10 km, to the turn off into the mountains north of Ascoli Piceno. It was quite hot, we had eaten too much, and the roads were windy and up and down. We also had to negotiate many little villages and turnoffs to find our way to Montefortino, so it wasn't long beforee Ches was felling decidedly car sick. Stopped to let her have a stoll. Resumed. Took a shortcut. O.K., now we are here, it is time to confess that I have left the address back at Assis, but surely it can't be too difficult to find. We turned right and did a circuit of the village which spills down the ridge. Ches insists that I alone will have to go and ask for directions. I suggests a run out of town on the other side first. Just in case there is a sign. There is. There are. Several of them, which lead us directly to Judi and Richard Hill's door.Judi lead us straight to their balcony. Nothing quite prepares you for this stunning view of Montefortino spilling down the ridge not 200 metres away, and the Monte Sibilini Mountains towering over the farmland to its left (west). Absolutely a million dollar view and Judi said that she hadn't been able to get anything done since she moved in last November. Every morning she goes out on the balcony, sits down to admire the view, and another day passes.Danny Lo of internet fame was there, as was a friend from the U.K., Micki, in the process of buying a place. Danny could only stay for an hour as he had just that night to finish cramming for exams tomorrow. He is studying English and American culture, which is in large part, literature. He was a little stressed, but stayed for long enough to advise on some of the local culture and colour. He staggered me with the news that the bottle of Umani Ronchi we were given by the Grillo's in 2000, has escalated in price since it won the international wine award in 2000. It is now more than 100 euro a bottle. We still feel guilty. Just because we had had a mamoth lunch and didn't need to eat again for several days, it didn't mean Judi and Richard had to go without. They were such generous hosts, they kept plying the wine all night, as we sat out on the balcony and watched the sun go down over the mountains, the stars come up, satelites pass overhead in a clear deep sky. They must have been starving, but kept me company till stumps at midnight. We talked about the village, Danny's passion for Marche, their trials and tribulations in moving to Italy, the problems in promoting tourism in Marche and numerous other topics.Judi put out a bowl of pate and some salami etc, however I couldn't face more than a slice of salami. After the event, she told me that the pate includes "cooked wine". It is a bottle of wine reduced 50%. She didn't think it was just a case of simmering it to reduce it, but whartever the process, it has an intensity of flavour, and is used in many recipes. She didn't know how to make it, and gets her supply from Danny, who steals from his fathers supply. She said that her pate had always been sensational, but with the inclusion of "cooked wine", is just out of this world. Danny worked in London for a year and has a passion for baked dinners and scones with jam and clotted cream. He often turns up for sunday lunch, and then has to return for his family lunch
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056837840/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056837840/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056837840/tpod.html Mon, 08 Sep 2003 04:23:16 -0400 Ches and Gavin return to France and Italy for 7 weeks in May-July 2002.

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Orta San Giulio, Italy

Friday 7th JuneOur last day in Orta San Giulio. Packed first thing, then headed off out to Isola San Giulio. We had noticed that the boats always made straight for the jetty on the southern end of the island, and invariable followed the same route back to Ortan San Giulio. For some reason, we were very fortunate to be take out around the northern end and then down the western side to the jetty (and returned the same way. It meant we were able to see the villas on the other side, having spent 11 days in total sitting in the piazza, looking out on all the villas on our eastern side. As the entire island is ringed with villas built down to the waterline, with boathouses, it is the only way you can see them. We had difficulty exiting the boat, as German tourists packed the jetty and left no room for anyone to leave the boat. Sometimes they have so little inteligence, let alone manners. We are used to them pushing to the head of cueues, shouldering others out of the way and their loudness, but how they expect people to actually get off so that they can get on is beyond me.Once on the island, one path circuits the island. On the inside is the massive monestary, on the outside the villas. The path is called the Way of Silence, and every fifty metres or so is a sign in four languages exploring the theme of "silence". (Having completed the circuit we entered the church and observed that the theme of silecnce doesn't mean too much to German tourists). The huge crane that has towered over the island for over two years, suddenly has relevance. The monestary is so vast that it must be a big job to complete the restoration. As our waitress this evening explained, in Italy, nothing is ever done in a hurry. Michelangelo established the precedent...."It will end, when it is finished". San Giulio was a Greek preacher who came to this island toward the end of the fourth century. He banished snakes and "other monsters" from the island. This then explaned some of the peculiar art, depicting snarling dinausar like creatures threatening sheep. While there is a room with displays of artefacts from the 5th and 6th century church (mosaics etc), the church is from the 1100's, and therefore much of the artwork is pre-renaisance, and infact some of the exterior frescoes, extremely "naieve" in their composition and perspective. For me, the two most impressive things in the church are the organ (which I suspect is a fairly recent model) and the pulpit. The pulpit is of carved stone and therefore almost looks as though it is cast iron. Very heavily scrolled and carved again with "monsters/beasts".Much of the afternoon was spent sitting in the piazza, looking our on our wonderful lake and island. Well, in between visits to the gellateria. In the course of this week, I have attempted to work my way through all 30 or so flavours at Arte dell Gellato. The problem is that this is the best Gellato I have ever had in Italy. This is the Mecca. To make matters worse, the Pistaccio is so sublime, that it makes it difficult to try the other flavours. Think about it? if you have a "Duo, Coppa" each time, that requires 15 "coppa". In 6 days, that's 2 1/2 coppa, and if you keep having the pistaccio, probably 3 per day to try everything. I didn't get to try more than half. We were away all day Wednesday and Thursday, so I made up for it on Friday. On my final visit (for the third time on Friday), she wouldn't let me pay, and served me the largest coppa, stacked to the heavens with my favourite pistaccio and bacio. I wonder if she could pack a container in dry ice and air freight to Sydney????? Hang the cost, is it logistically possible!On our way out to dinner, we called in on Marietta to settle our account. The daughters were excited to see us, and even more excited when we gave them Koalas. Karina? was one but the other never introduced herself.Friday night is the locals night out. They are too busy servicing tourists on Saturdays and Sundays, so we noted many of them at the restaurants and bars around the piazza this evening. Unfortunately, it was drizzling with rain, so most people ate inside. We had planned on our last meal to be outside, looking at the island as the light faded and the lights came on. It was cool enough that I had to return to our appartment between courses for my jacket (and a Koala for the waitress). We dined at Ristorante Venus, same as last time. Either it has gone up market, or I did this time. Ches reminds me that I had pizza and a pasta dish last time. This time I started with what I'm sure the menu said was ravioli filled with prawns and smoked shellfish. In actuallity it was sheets of lasagne topped with large prawns in a rich tomatoe sauce (chopped fresh tomatoes in a sauce like reduced stock (prawn shells and maybe that's where the smoked shellfish were-pureed). A good portion thankfully, because my pan fried perch fillets wouldn't have touched the sides. Ches had taglionini with spiny lobster, and lamb encased in bread (crumbed cutlets) with the best roasted potatoes she has ever had in Italy. We shared a Chocolate Flan (really a layered chocolate and almond or marzipan blaumange (cucapum)) and a creme caramel. The creme finally a silky smooth challenge to Marie, but the caramel slightly burnt. I don't care if it was predominantly seafood, we had a bottle of Parusso, Barbera D'Alba, Ornati , 2000.Throughout the meal, we were serenaded by a chap playing keyboards and a clarinet. He asked for requests, which readily came to Ches while I drew blanks (well, after first requesting "Michelle") . He flirted with Ches for the rest of the evening and in particular flattered her for her "exquisite taste" in music selection. He came over for a chat and when he discovered we were from Australia said that he had always regretted not take a job at the Hilton or Sheraton in Sydney. Said that he didn't see any future for the old world, and that only Australia and New Zealand had the chance to start again. He played without a break for several hours, so Ches gave him the Koala. I think the waitress appreciated a tip more than a Koala-she is from a village 50 km away and is provided with a room in the adjoining hotel. We were also entertained by the mating games of the local ducks. One female, three males. Talk about a racket as they fought it out for an hour or more in and out of the water. They would take off and chase and attack as one male tried to drive of another, with the female egging them on. Pun intended. Whenever they lost interest and began to paddle away, she would re-enter the water and follow them squarking as she went. Typical female. Then the grand parade of the swan, like a galleon gliding by, and the late night run by one of the boatmen to bring diners back from the other side of the lake.Having already packed earlier in the afternoon, we just had a leisurly dinner and a late stroll home.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056839820/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056839820/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056839820/tpod.html Fri, 05 Sep 2003 18:45:56 -0400 Ches and Gavin return to France and Italy for 7 weeks in May-July 2002.

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Foiano della Chiana. Rodopel Leather and Liba shirt factory, Italy

Thursday 13th JuneThank god this day had only 24 hours in it. Our biggest spending day of this holiday, and likely to set a record never to be matched.It started out fairly innocently. We dropped in to Assisi to look at the paintings in the Massimo Cruciani gallery. We ended up buying a large print of a "village-scape", in a kind of Norberto style. All burgundy and pinks with white snow covered roofs. I loved it, Ches wasn't completely moved. She has difficulty with the snow covered roofs, given that we have never seen them. We returned to the internet cafe; this time with all the code numbers. Inexplicably, the girl who had appeared so close to connecting us last time, didn't even get close this time, and looked like reconfiguring my computer so that it would never talk to anyone ever again. Next option, just send an e-mail to everyone. One hour of composition. Hit "send". Window pops up. It is in Italian. Call desperately to the girl. She reads, hits keys, and everything vanishes off into the "eithernet". I walk,.......quietly,....composed. I suspect it is due to my provider Optusnet. Drew later advises that you can actually set a time period, after which if there is no activity, it will disconect you. I assume that it is currently set for a few minutes only, as I am always being disconnected. Again I SCREAM, why doesn't the industry fully explain its services. Why do they assume that all customers know everything. Why didn't the Optusnet service manager suggest this as a possible reason for my constant drop outs, when I complained several months ago. But I digress.I walked,....quietly.....composed, back to the car park. We headed down the road from Assisi toward Perugia. Stopped to buy cherries from a roadside truck. Now it was time to get serious. We headed off for Foiano della Chiana. Past Perugia on the motorway, swing along the northern shore of Lake Trasimeno and on toward Sinalunga. Take the Foiano off ramp and follow the signs to Foiano della Chiana. Take the road around the bottom of the town toward Arezzo (#327), and about a couple of kilometres north, several small signs on the right indicating "war cemetary". Several hundred metres further on, on the right, just over the crest of the hill and we almost overshot the diriveway; Rodopel LEATHER FACTORY, "Labor". Big billboard size sign. Oh!, not re-opening till 3.30. Back on the #327, the next driveway on the right (50 metres), leads to the Liba shirt factory. Here they don't seem to have closing hours. As it is a factory, the receptionist simply calls someone to show you into the showroom. Now, Bill Sutherland first wrote about this factory, and Jonathan added some info. They said it is the factory where they make Armani shirts and sell to the public at a fraction of the price. The only shirts on offer to us were those branded "Liba Shirts". They seemed excellent cotton fabrics, well cut and stitched, and I just have to assume that at between 38 and 42 euros each, they were a bargain. I bought three business shirts and a short sleeved shirt. Supposedly we can present the receipt at Italian customs on the way out, for a refund of the 20% GST.As there was still a half hour till Rodopal re-opened, we ducked into town to find a bar for a water and snack. Arrived just in time for Italy to score a goal in the world cup. It is becoming a habit. We watered and returned to the leather factory.Ches never buys anything of quality for herself. Always looking for gifts for the rest of the family and nothing for herself. Even now, she started looking at the less expensive suede coats. Tried quite a few that suited her. Tried a leather coat that looked stunning, but went back to the suede. I took the leather coat and tried to negotiate a discount for cash. No such thing, but again a phone call suggested that we could pay full price and they would apply for the GST refund and forward to us. I almost had to force Ches to buy the coat that best suited her, and she is still in shock. Even found a jacket in the "end of range" section at a bargain price, so just had to take a punt and bought it for Mel for her birthday.The trip back was eventful in that we ran into peak-hour traffic in Perugia. In being smart and manouvering around slow moving trucks, I found myself stuck out in the left hand lane just as we approached the split in the autostrada. We were stuck out in the lane that syphoned us off onto the Roma autostrada. We had to take the next exit and saw more of Ponte San Giovanni than we had planned. For the first and last time. It was twenty minuti before we were back on the right road to Assisi.Back home by 6.00 pm. Chris was staggered at the price Ches had paid for her coat. Said it was an absolute bargain and they made immediate plans to head off there tomorrow.Getting rather peckish, so I decided to duck up stairs and knock up my canallini beans and fennel. Unbeknown to me, David grabbed some spicy sausages and started up the BBQ, and Margaret knocked up a salad. between us, we had a meal. Chris found some cherry icecream and a rockmellon, and Ches a panforte. So hard!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056532800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056532800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056532800/tpod.html Thu, 28 Aug 2003 06:51:07 -0400 Ches and Gavin return to France and Italy for 7 weeks in May-July 2002.

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Noyers sur Surein, France

Thursday 30th MayThe difference between a 30 euro limo to the airport and a 46 euro limo, is around one hour. We toured peak hour Paris picking up people on the way, and eventually made it back out to the airport. I had decided that I couldn't face driving our car out of Paris, so elected to go back to the airport and pick it up there. With minimal formalities, we collected our car and a hand drawn map of how to find a service station and fill up, and how to negotiate the motorways that form the ring road from the north to the south east of Paris. Amazingly, all went according to plan and eventually we made it on to the N105 for a leisurely drive through the countryside. We were well clear of Melun, and had seen two roads to our right sign posted "Fontainebleau". By the third, we were sold. Well, I was sold and Ches thought we were flirting with disaster as I took the turn. On the outskirts of Fontainebleau, I stopped at a map of the town, to try to locate directions to the Chateau. Ches found a boulangerie and returned with a slice of onion tart and a potato pie. Both were wonderful. We determined that we should take the road to the left at the forked intersection, and with no idea what to expect, swept down and around, and suddenly found ourselves in front of the most stunning and massive chateau we could ever imagine. Probably about the same size as Versailles but much more attractive. My parking spot beside the front gates was waiting for us, so we parked and entered through the gates on pillars topped with gold eagles. The Chateau consists of the main building and two wings forming an open sided square around lawns and gardens, approx. 200 metres square. The main drive is down the middle, an avenue formed by potted trees that finishes at a double sweeping staircases up to the front doors. We had arrived at around 12.15, and the building itself was closed till 1.30. We contended ourselves with a walk around the outside of the Chateau. As we passed through the arch under the wing to the right (which I assume is where they would have taken the carriages around the back to the coach house), we came onto lawns and gardens, and a lake with a rotunda in the middle and row boats for hire. Right around the back are the formal gardens, laid out on many acres. The main rooms of the Chateau look out on these gardens. Further around, and behind the left wing, are a number of other huge buildings with gardens and fountains. We spent over an hour, and look forward to returning one day, for a full day. With time getting away from us, we headed for the A6, and the 100 km run down to Auxerre. We took the Auxerre exit, and the N6 toward Avallon. Ches wasn't impressed with the modern sprawl and industry surrounding the town, however photographs indicate that from the river side, the ancient town is quite beautiful. Another MROD (must return one day). We stopped to buy cherries out ot the boot of a car on the side of the road. 3 euro for a kilo of the most sensational (large and juicy) I have ever eaten. We devoured half in the next fifteen minutes, and stretched the rest out over the next twenty four hours. Just past Vermenton, we turned east (left) on the D11, passed over the A6, and through Nitry to the D49. I thought Nitry so pretty, I tried to drive up a dirt track on the other side of the village to get a better view down on the town. Couldn't be done, so we drove on to Nitry.When planning our trip, I had considered staying in either Auxerre or Avallon and taking half a day to drive around the countryside. The Lonely Planet mentions Noyers (pronounced "nwar-YER") very briefly and in researching on the net, I had discovered the villages own site (only in French) and a photograph posted by a cyclist on holidays. The photograph showed a number of medieval buildings lining a narrow street and a plaza, all half timber and plaster. That's why we decided to stay here, and in time scrapped the idea of visiting Avallon. We couldn't have made a better decision. The first buildings we came to were quite massive in size, but derelict. We later heard that one is for sale for 250,000 euros, but that it would cost 500,000 euros just to restore the roof. The street then turns to the left, and it is several hundred metres down to the gates to the village. The hotel we are staying in is to the right, with enough space to park four cars to its right. We pulled in, but found the front door of the hotel locked. i could see the back door was open, so we went around the side, and entered through a gate into a large walled garden. A woman came out of the house that shares the garden with the hotel, and explained that Josaine would be back at 4.00 pm. We left the car and headed in to the village. Opposite the hotel is a long low building with a door at each end, open down one side in that it has large windowless windows, and a water trough cut into the floor right down the middle. Hanging in the windows are pots of geraniums. Josaine later explained that it is the village wash house, and that as a child (70's) she remembers women still using it. All I could think of was chilblain hands, and aching knees and backs. A hundred metres further on, the street crosses a brig over the river Serein, which bends at this point and runs down the right side of the village. The street continues on through the main town gate, and another road runs around the right side of the village walls, between them, defensive towers and houses, and the river. We walked in through the gate. The first building on the right is the local restaurant. Only open of an evening if the owner feels it is worth her while to cook. She didn't think is was tonight. A mini-supermarket, more like a general store is next on the right, then the bank (which only opens for two hours a day, and won't be open again till 9.30 am tomorrow), then the town hall. All the space on the left is occupied by a half timbered hotel, with carved wooden figures on the vertical beams. At this point, you enter the main town square. All cobbled streets and half timbered houses. We wandered up to the adjoining square, and discovered a gift shop. To be precise, it is called Saveurs d'Autrefois and sells Produits du Terroir at Place du Marche au Ble. M. Falconnet has sufficient English to assist in showing us wines (Burgundy and Chablis), cassis and other liqueurs (cremes de fruits), Dijon mustards, biscuits, jams etc. He was horrified that we might try to pay with a 500 euro note, and probably didn't believe us when we said we would return tomorrow after breaking the note at the bank when it opened at 9.30. He probably thought it would break the bank. He then explained that he didn't open till 10.00 am, so it was going to be a late start.M. Falconnet also explained that he has a two bedroom apartment above the shop (with kitchen/living room that he rents for 381 euros a week. We know we MROD to use it as a base for exploring Fontainebleau, Auxerre, Vezelay, Abbay de Fontenay, Avallon, Grottes d'Arcy. Tonnerre, Ancy-le-Franc, Tanlay, Chablis and Dijon. Entrance is via the side street, 2, rue de L'Eglise (tel 03 86 82 63 38 fax 03 86 82 63 83)It now being after 5.00 pm, we returned to the hotel to meet Josaine and move into our room. We had the largest room (No.7), and noted that for a family, the adjoining room 7b, can be booked for a reduced double rate of 74 euros. We paid 52 euros for the night. Over breakfast the next morning, Josaine explained that she and her partner had spent five years restoring this building that was built in 1240 as a hospital for the poor. The exterior is the restored original, however the interior is very modern, with tile floors, stark white walls and furnished with a mixture of new and antique pieces. I should have filmed or photographed the writing desk in our room ( inlayed leather top and pigeon holed back). It being daylight till after 9.00 pm, we headed back in to the village. We took the road to the right around the outside. The river Surein gently flows down the side of the village and beyond are fields and wooded hills in the distance. To the left, the village is a mixture of walls, houses, villas with walled lawns and gardens, defensive towers (some converted into homes) and walled vegetable gardens, all joined together and built on the foundations of the original fortifications. Josaine explained that during the period when Burgundy and Champagne were at war, the village was in fact one of the largest castles in France. One of the kings eventually ordered the castle be raised to the ground, and the foundations were used for the village and the stones to build the houses. Even today, the villagers are engaged in identifying which stones were from the original castle. I have studied the history of almost everywhere except France, so am at a lost to put dates or names to the period she was talking about. Josaine also refuted the line adopted by French tourism, in promoting Noyers sur Serein as the village of walnuts. She majored from Dijon and another university, in linguistics, and maintains that it is impossible to find any Latin roots. She believes that the origin is "marsh or swamp" or some such word, as the river would have been less contained within it's banks in those days.Anyway, we continued along the road for the three hundred metres that takes you to the end of the village, and then swings up and around when it meets the timbered hill at the back of the village, and leads back in through another gate, protected by a tower. This top end of the buildings are deteriorating rapidly, and they are in desperate need of Parisians with the money to buy and restore them as weekends. I have had a sore throat for several days, as I did on our last trip, and therefore is probably the result of 23 hours in an air-conditioned aircraft. Ches had read that the French take their health very seriously (read hypochondriac), and how else could you explain a village that has no full time bank, no baker, butcher or plumber, but has a modern pharmacy with two staff, and a choice of five flavours of Strepsils.We continued down the street leading back to the main square, and suddenly I saw the vision of the photograph I had seen on the internet. I now have a number of them myself. As the restaurant won't serve dinner, and another one attached to a bar is closed due to ill health, we stop at the Charcutier-Traiteur owned by Denis Poillot. Later, Josaine claimed that Denis makes most of his sausages, terrines and salads, and that they are among the best in the region. By this stage we had already eaten, and can at the very least confirm that it was the best meal we have had so far. Ches bought both a rabbit and duck terrine, a soft smoked cheese (cured in chablis), a champignon and rich tomato sauce salad, a celeriac salad and a heavy grain loaf of bread. Washed down with water (we forgot to buy wine, and didn't have a corkscrew anyway), and finished off with almond cream tarts (one topped with berries, the other with apricots). 19.56 Euros, but it also enough food for lunch the following day.We ate in the courtyard/garden. Josaine sprayed her shrubs, and the two girls, Saba and Babette (mother and daughter Labradors) fruitlessly nosed about. We slept well.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056531180/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056531180/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/franceitaly2002/1056531180/tpod.html Thu, 28 Aug 2003 04:50:56 -0400 Ches and Gavin return to France and Italy for 7 weeks in May-July 2002.

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Paris, France

Wednesday 29th May I was up at 6.00 am and discovered a brilliant clear sky so decided to return to Sacre Couer to try for some better photographs. It turned out that we were just 10 minutes walk from the base of the steps up to the basilica, and on the way the only people I saw were street cleaners. All the gutters were running with water, which given that it is pumped from the curb, and there are small sand bags laid to to direct the flow of water, suggest that is is designed to wash the gutters. Anyway, once again I climbed the steep staircase to Sacre Couer.This time I discovered that not only could I get some good photographs of the basilica, but that there is in fact a view of the Eiffel Tower. Most people would do what we did yesterday; that's turn right at the top of the staircase and walk to the lookout or walk up the staircase in front of the basilica. If you cross the street at the top of the staircase, and continue up two more flights of steps in front of the church adjoining Sacre Couer, there is a path leading to the left, and through the trees you can see the tower. I took my photographs and returned to the hotel for breakfast with Ches.By just after 9.00 we were off to the bank again. The less said the better. By 12.00 with no luck at the bank, Ches determined that we would return at 4.00 when they promised to have everything organised. Having wasted three hours, we were always going to be on the run for the rest of the day. We caught the Metro out to the Musee Marmottan. Paul Marmottan bequeathed his villa/home to the state at the turn of the 19th century, and in the 1960's Michel Monet bequeathed his collection of his fathers paintings to the state, and they are displayed here at Marmottan. Perhaps because of the photographs of the house and gardens in the Eyewitness Guide to Paris, I had always imagined that it was a large garden estate on the fringe of Paris. Imagine my surprise on emerging from the Metro into more "Paris". Very up market Paris, but just as much pedestrian and road traffic as anywhere else. There are lawns and gardens on the way to the museum, which is around 500 metres from the metro, but the villa itself is surrounded by apartment buildings that crowd it in.There are three levels; impressionist art from Paul Marmottans own collection, 19th century art and furnishings on the ground floor, and a new museum built into the basement housing 30 or so Monets. We began and finished in the basement, with a brief walk through the other floors. With bench seating provided, you are encouraged to spend several hours with Monet, which we did. There weren't many other visitors, so we could comfortable take in a collection that is representative of all his periods and styles, from the coast, French countryside, city railways in winter, the mediterranean and japanese bridges and water lilies.As we left, and elderly american couple asked for directions to the entrance and the man asked..."is it worth it?" Back to the intersection above the metro and we were desperate for lunch at 2.45. We entered a cafe/traiteur, and jammed ourselves into seats for ham and cheese omelettes. Coffee from a filter machine was on the house because their espresso machine had broken down. Only locals having a late snack or drink, and a large woman done out to the n'th degree swanned in for a cassis with a friend. Made us tourists look what we now know the French regard as "visual pollution".Back on the metro to the bank. Everything was O.K. he immediately said, but didn't explain why it would take another half hour to hand over our money. At 4.30, we set out on foot for the Cluny Museum on the other side of the Seine. A good excuse to walk via a number of modem parks and gardens, then cross beside San Michelle. We had walked past the Cluny Museum on our last visit, but took it to be "Roman" baths and decided we would see enough ancient ruins in Rome so didn't visit. This time it was to have been a day of Monet, with Marmottan in the morning and the Musee L'Orangarie in the afternoon. L'Orangarie was closed for renovation when we visited in 2000, and it is still closed. Because Clarissa had raved about the Cluny Museum on the morning we left, we included it as a last minute replacement. What a fabulous replacement. We arrived at 5.15, and were given 45 minutes for what should be a minimum two hour visit (probably 3 hours for me). This is a wonderful exhibit of medieval artefacts, and the highlight was probably the tapestry of "The Lady and the Unicorn". We passed all too quickly through exhibits of stained glass windows, alabaster friezes, choir stalls, moulding irons for making wafers for communion, medieval chain mail, weapons and amazing wooden shields sheathed in leather painted elaborately. We now have another reason to return to Paris.At 5.45 we were thrown out, and headed up Saint-Germain Bd. in search of the "two maggots" at 6, Place St Germain de Pres. Ches had read that it is famous for two things: being a haunt of Hemmingway, and serving the best hot chocolate in Paris. After a couple of kilometres, I was in need of a beer when we found it, but Ches was determined to have the chocolate. It was packed to the rafters (or should that be "awnings") when we arrived, but we secured the last two seats and a table, right at the apex of the throng spreading out on the footpath. We were almost into the intersection. At 5.80 euro for a beer (5.95 for the hot chocolate), I observed that most people don't drink so much as sip. They manage to drag out a beer for close to an hour. You are paying to have a front row seat at the passing parade of Paris, not to have a drink. At 6.45 we had just an hour and a quarter to return to our hotel, change and walk back down to rue Montmatre for dinner at La Gavroche.We missed out on La Gavroch last time (it was closed on a Sunday night), and as everyone in Station St. has dined there, we were determined to make it this time. Additionally, we had arranged to meet Jonathan Chimine (N.Y.) and Frances and Richard West (Toronto) there for dinner. Frances and Richard were already there. Richard arrived at 10.00, just as I had given away his seat to other diners. We were so tightly packed in to this restaurant, that when the waiter came to take the order and serve the people beside us, he had to do so through a window onto the street. Frances and I sat on a bench seat against the wall. To get to our seats, we had to pull the table out into the aisle, and slide between the tables. Once seated, we had to pull the table back in, and then our partners could sit down. Conversation and numerous bottles of the house bougelais sustained us through to 1.00 am, however the food was disappointing. Well, I can only speak for Ches and myself. My duck terrine was excellent (as it should be in France), however while Ches said her steak was reasonably tender but lacking in flavour, my roast beef was rare (as ordered), but tasteless and tough as old boots. Accompanied by french fries (the highlight of the meal- that's sarcasm). The waiter talked me into a desert, which he claimed was the pick of the menu. A raisin cake drenched in a raw rum, it was very ordinary. Ches tasted Frances's creme caramel, and it was only O.K., but still not up to Maria's standard.We finally made it to bed around 1.30, after the 20 min walk back to the hotel moderated the damage of the bougelais.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/s.e._australia/1061245380/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/s.e._australia/1061245380/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/s.e._australia/1061245380/tpod.html Thu, 28 Aug 2003 04:32:12 -0400 3,500 km road trip, Sydney to Melbourne, Great Ocean Road to Port Fairy, Mildura, Broken Hill, Wilcannia, Cobar and

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Port Fairy, Australia

Monday 18th August, continued......What a wonderful four or so hours we spent in Port Fairy. Back in the mid 60's when we were at Teacher College, Brian Short was a colleague. He came from this small town way down the coast called Port Fairy and kind of gave the impression that he was escaping a life sentence in moving to Melbourne. Bet nobody thinks that now.Port Fairy: http://walkabout.com.au/locations/VICPortFairy.shtml To quote:"The town began to grow in the early 1840s. In 1843 a Sydney solicitor James Atkinson purchased 5120 acres (2072 hectares) of land at Port Fairy for £1 per acre. He converted the sealing community into a modern port by draining the swamps around the town, subdividing and selling/leasing the land and building the harbour on the Moyne River. So proud was Atkinson of his handiwork that he decided to rename the town Belfast, after the Irish city which he called home. A similar project was undertaken by William Rutledge who had also received 5120 acres in 1843. The result was that Belfast became the largest privately-owned town in Australia and the few local residents, who had simply squatted prior to Atkinson's purchase, suddenly found themselves paying rent to their new landlord."Apparently Warrnambool was only established as a port because there were those who didn't want to be controlled by Atkinson or Rutledge. Anyway, it was a thriving port, and I can't think of any other town of this size with so many impressive grand and small historic buildings so well restored and maintained. The streets are all wide, and it's worth making the point that this was probably due to the fact that it was established as a port town from the outset. They would have been bringing produce in to town on bullock drays, requiring fairly wide streets to turn them around in. There are still many old warehouses along the river. One, down near the docks, has recently been converted into very flash apartments. They sold off the bluestone of the second floor, and have built modern apartments above the ground floor bluestone.First things first. We drove in to town and parked out front of the bakery. Coffee and a local pie for morning tea/brunch out on the sidewalk. Fantastic. We decided that while the "Walkabout" guide had a fair bit of info., we really should go to the visitors centre for maps and descriptions of the historic walks around town.I gave Ches motion sickness driving around Warrnambool to photograph the historic buildings, so here we parked the town and set off on foot. The sun was out and the town largely sheltered from the coastal wind by the sand hills that screen the town from the ocean. A pleasant day for strolling around town. Rather than describe the buildings here, I will do that for each of the photographs posted on this page. I will note however that as we walked down one of the residential streets to photograph several villas and cottages, Ches observed a chap with a massive shovel beard. He was walking back down his driveway, and his wife, equally as rustic, was sitting on the steps of a side entrance. Ches turned to me ( I was about 15 metres away on the other side of the street) and mimed "big beard, photograph". Shame she hadn't seen two residents sitting on the front steps of their house directly opposite. As we moved on down the street, they arose and crossed the street, no doubt to tell the rustics that they had attracted our attention. Moving right along quickly, we headed up the next side street, only to have a local emerging from his car call out and direct me to three cottages in a row, of historic significance. Friendly, these rustics.Down by the river (at the port), we found the fish shop open. We decided on a picnic lunch. Fresh prawns and oysters. We decided to walk back to the car via the river. On the far side of the river are marinas for several hundred metres. Fifty or so yachts and boats moored at short jetties. On the town side of the river, there is just one long jetty running parallel with the bank. The pylons of the original jetty are still there between the jetty and the bank, and the new jetty was lined with fishing boats. One of the fishing boats was a real surprise. A catamaran hull, it had two refrigerated containers and a crane on the stern deck. I don't know if the catch goes straight into the containers and then can be unloaded at any port using their own crane, or if this is a "mother boat" and smaller boats bring their catch for storage. As we walked up the river, showers were starting again.We came back into the main street where I accumulated massive numbers of "brownie points". While Ches was in the supermarket, I found a shop selling wool blankets. Ches had said she wanted to buy a throw for our couch at home, and this part of the world has a reputation for fine wool products. The woman in the shop thought I was a very patient and understanding husband. I wasn't going to accept that!"Hang on, I actually found you, and encouraged my wife to come in here". Back to the car, still parked out front of the bakery, where we brought bread for our prawn lunch. The bakery itself is of historical significance. The shop has a patterned pressed metal ceiling, that is bevelled down both sides. Quite impressive, but apparently not valued by the owners in that the shop doesn't look as though it has had anything done to it in 50 years.We took our bread and seafood over the river and parked near Battery Hill park. We set up at a table in the lea of the sandhill and teatree, fought off half a dozen crows who wanted more than just prawn shells, and held the umbrella over each other as we shelled and made prawn sandwiches. A guy walked through the park and into the scrub, heading toward the beach. He was walking a Labradore and was trying to drive away a cattle dog (blue healer) that was following. Five minutes later, I could hear another guy whistling. He was at a ute (pickup) just down the street from where we had parked. I walked down and asked if he had lost a dog. "Yep". Told him where he'd gone. He explained that he was still a pup, only 12 months old. Said that every time he considered shooting him, he did something to endear himself, so he still had him but was having a hell of a time keeping track of him. Nothing quite like the love between a country man and his dog.Battery Hill still has the fort built during the Crimean war. Fearing a Russian naval attack on Australia, they built numerous forts at ports around the country, including Fort Dennison (Pinchgut) in the middle of Sydney Harbour. Battery Hill is well maintained and still has several of the old canons in place.We were now running out of time to drive to Halls Gap in the Grampians, so we left Port Fairy fairly sadly. Maybe we will return one year for the folk festival.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/s.e._australia/1061243040/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/s.e._australia/1061243040/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/s.e._australia/1061243040/tpod.html Wed, 27 Aug 2003 23:20:58 -0400 3,500 km road trip, Sydney to Melbourne, Great Ocean Road to Port Fairy, Mildura, Broken Hill, Wilcannia, Cobar and

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Warrnambool, Australia

Monday 18th August 2003 We spent several hours this morning in just driving around the streets of Warnnambool, photographing the buildings from the 1880's. I used the "Walkabout" guide: http://walkabout.com.au/locations/VICWarrnambool.shtmlNow I need to go on the record as claiming that it was only in the week before we headed down the Great Ocean Road that I became aware of the fact that Great Right Whales calve on this stretch of coast near Warrnambool. In August to October, they are fairly common, and can be seen from a lookout on the other side of the river from the main town of Warrnambool. For some reason, Ches now maintains that it was the main purpose of the trip, and I failed. I didn't produce any whales. Given the size of the seas, the driving rain and wind, I don't blame the whales for remaining well under water. There was one up the coast near Anglesea last week, and on here on Saturday, but non now. We drove to the lookout and looked forlornly out to sea. They have built a fantastic whale watching lookout. The timber walkway is designed to accommodate hundreds of people, with no obstructed views. They even have sections where the side wall is set low to allow wheelchair tourists or small children a view. We also stopped briefly at the Flagstaff Hill Maritime Village, but didn't enter. This is a recreated 1880's port, set on a lake with two restored boats, and a number of streets lined with typical building from the period. They have even rebuilt lighthouses and buildings moved here from their original locations, and many of the buildings are staffed by tradesmen demonstration their crafts. We figured that it would be at least a four hour visit to do it any justice, and with Port Fairy just 30 km down the coast, we would go and see the real thing (there are at least 50 historic buildings in this little town).
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/s.e._australia/1061122740/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/s.e._australia/1061122740/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/gavinc/s.e._australia/1061122740/tpod.html Wed, 27 Aug 2003 22:27:10 -0400 3,500 km road trip, Sydney to Melbourne, Great Ocean Road to Port Fairy, Mildura, Broken Hill, Wilcannia, Cobar and

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The Twelve Apostles, Australia

Sunday 17th August continued...We headed back to the Great Ocean Road. On the way in, we had seen a carload of people peering up into the trees. We assumed Koala/s! Couldn't find the spot so set our sights for the shipwreck coast. The road only touches on the coast briefly at Glenaire and then dives back inland up to Lavers Hill and then back to Princetown. That's around 45 km of rolling hills and valleys, largely grazing country and quite a contrast with the rugged coast. First stop, the Gibson Steps lookout. By now the seas were huge. The waves were close together and therefore white water from 200 metres out, in to the beaches. There was also now a driving wind and rain to contend with. So far, so good. Next stop, the Twelve Apostles. They are the main focus of tourists travelling to the Great Ocean Road, and that now became glaringly obvious. We were stunned to see a very large parking area off to the right, an equally large building, which turned out to be an amenities block and the entrance to a path under the Great Ocean Road and out to the cliff lookouts. The car par was packed with cars and coaches. The adjoining airstrip was surrounded by cattle that scattered with each landing and takeoff, and there were a number of plains and helicopters. The rain was lashing everything. Out with the umbrella and into the amenities building. Out the other side and the rain eased to a few spots. Thank god we didn't have to contend with driving rain out on the viewing platforms.No thanks to God or anyone else, we had to contend with four coach loads of young tourists from south asia. All seemed to be in their 20's and the majority chose to ignore the signs requesting that they stay inside the fences and not trample the re-vegetation areas. They perched on the edge of the cliffs for friends to photograph, and choked up the pathways. Probably uni students in Australia for a sporting or cultural event and on a day trip out of Melbourne. The Twelve Apostles is usually photographed surrounded by deep blue water and a clear blue sky. The areal photographs show the sandstone stacks lining the coast in the same blue water, contrasted with the brilliant green vegetation that runs to the cliffs. That's brilliant green, the bright red of the cliffs and the stacks, and the deep blue of the water. For us, it was an equally stunning leaden sky, furious white water and the yellow stacks protruding out of the white water. Without the strong sunrise or sunset light, the sandstone cliffs and stacks don't take on the red colour. I love a wild ocean, so for me it was a special way to see the Twelve Aposles. I filled two digital camera cards.Here's another photo site with masses of photos:http://meltin.net/pix/adelaide-melbourne-2002/great-ocean-road/
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