All photos can be accessed at: link
Ah, August has come, and the last day of my adventure has arrived. Searching my thoughts, I find no sadness; all things are as they should be, serendipitously. I'm - so happy. Naturally, the arduous parts, I wish had gone a little better, but I can think of only two moments where I'd felt a little discouraged, and they were not long in being remedied either. Every minute of every day was enjoyable, and the days have been kind to me. And how beautiful the feet of those who are sent - most of the people I've met have been decent and hospitable, even warm.
Today was probably the most relaxed day I've had while out here, and it's a nice way to end. Capping it with the Musee d'Orsay was probably the best planning decision I've made, however fortuitously. It's a beautiful, simple museum in itself - five floors, two of them mostly structural, and the whole simply laid out in a large rectangle, but not so plainly as to be like an exposition floor. This museum's travelling exhibit was to be start of my love for art, when it came to Singapore. My first moment of awe was in seeing Cabanel's The Birth of Venus - a lovely nude woman lain on the waves; and I was also struck by the painterly sensitivity of Hans Thoma's Siesta, of the delicious sunlight falling over the trees and on the meadow. Well, crazily enough, that first exhibit also had Vincent Van Gogh's Starry Night over the Rhone, to my mind the first great piece of art I'd seen. The play of the various lamplights over the slipping waves, the dark, deep blue of swirling night, and the soft blooms of starlight glimmering over the darkness. The one kept in the Museum of Modern Art in New York, The Starry Night, would be famous for its brazen curls of yellow moonlight and evening cloud over the dark, sleepened landscape.
The famed impressionists! The past couple weeks of Rome, Firenze and the Louvre had mostly early 15th and 16th century classical and renaissance paintings, which you know, is awe-inspiring but not terribly soul-inspiring for a twentieth century man such as myself; although I certainly had my moments, especially with Andrea Del Sarto's Christ as the Man of Sorrows. But the religious iconography and all that, I mean, it takes so much effort to be steeped in that culture, to appreciate it as more than just "old stuff" - I wince as I say that. Well, even for me, that old stuff is hard. And in comparison, the Orsay had all the great painters I know and love, you know? Every work here deserves at least fifteen minutes' contemplation, not that I could have physically done that. I simply had to breeze by at some points, stopping here and there, and correct myself by returning to certain rooms.
The crazy thing is that most of these artists were rejected out of hand - they were simply deemed too sloppy by the old standards, too spontaneous in light and colour, too sentimental, too vulgar (as in vulgus, or common). Why would you paint simple farmers and watery landscapes and, for goodness sake, nude commoners when the whole idea of high art is to draw vast and visionary pictures, to give tribute to God and his great works, and the high Greek and Roman ideals and allegories? Well, all that sort of wishy-washy art was brought into a sort of underground movement, defended by Degas and Renoir, among others, and allowed to flourish by Napolean III in a newly established, aptly-named Salon des Refusés. Certain criticisms included: "Wallpaper in its embryonic state is more finished than that [Monet] seascape." Women as well were invited to join, including one Berthe Morisot, later the sister-in-law and close friend of Edouard Manet. Manet is, I think, my favourite painter - he paints so plainly and so expressively, so caringly. A whole room was given to Manet, and a short term gallery of six rooms to Morisot. Cezanne had one, Pisarro, Monet, etc. Well, I had a ball of a time. All these wonderful painters, and so much of them! Oh, my dear and esteemed painters.
Okay, so I managed to finish up around five thirty. Well, I went home and had pasta and sausages, and went out for a jaunt to buy some souvenirs. I realised that there was a nicer supermarket, a carrefour near my place, where I could have been getting much better supermarket fare, ah the deuce. Well, I walked into a department store type place which had a whole level just for food and snacks. It was wonderful - La Grande Epicerie. So I got some mini paninis with olives, gingerbread with caramel and pistachio flavoured madeleines to bring back. Supper was mostly the same, with wine. Ah, the gentle peasant life.
Well, what a simply lovely way to end. The weather was nicer too, for a summer. On the whole, I think the schedule might have been taxing for anyone else, and being alone, I wouldn't have had to worry about soldiering on. Soldiering on was just right for me, actually, I don't like not having anything to do, and having to improvise too much would have been more tiring than following a regimented sort of plan. Well, perhaps I will look forward to travelling with companions in the future. But perhaps not in the heat of summer! Ciao, Italia! and au revoir, Paris.
----
I spent (in EUR):
8 - food
15 - Musee d'Orsay
26 - two calendars of Van Gogh's work
26 - paninis, gingerbread and madeleines
52 - apartment in Duroc
329 - flight on Etihad Airways from Paris to Singapore, stopping over in Abu Dhabi
Friday, August 16, 2019
CCXXXVII - Paris, Mercedi, 31 July 2019
Man, what a day. Well, since I wasn't going to the Louvre at the original time of nine am, I decided to head out to the Picasso museum. You know, that dude is a little weird, a little bizarro, and I say that with true esteem. His quotes profess that he sees things in terms of their essential forms, lines, shapes and volumes, he tries to picture the essential egg - the term he uses to describe the inner essence - of each character, and then flesh out into the true portrait by adding the superficial lines and textures; but pausing at the artistic moment, thus furnishing his work. The world and all that is in it are shapes, intersecting lines and angles, abstract curves and surfaces, interconnected facets; and yet somehow it comes together on the canvas, the whole dysfunctionality captivates. It's not immediately a work that lends itself to visual appreciation, it's not beautiful, but it shines with a different sensitivity, its own beauty in spite of asymmetry and unnaturalness. It has its own special sensuality, sense of self-awareness and purposeful identity. It's so hard to explain - it's almost a deeper, elemental metaphysic which still charms the viewer enough, invites him/her to relax his own norms of appreciation. It's also not ridiculously post-modern, which to me is often more anti-art for its own sake. But perhaps that is harsh. In any case, it was almost a sort of relief to leave Picasso behind, and return to the more recognisable types of art in the Louvre.
Well, as I was walking through the Louvre today, it kinda occurred to me, hey, that's my third Cezanne today. That was pretty funny: what a preposterous attitude. Yeah, I should have been trying harder with Cezanne. His is a sort, if I may be so bold, his is a sort of splotchy melded textures in the way he depicts surfaces. It looks a little like every surface has a sort of patchy liquid sheen, swathes of strokes blending into each other to depict the play of light over rough surfaces, rocks, roads, trees, walls and buildings all have their own magical coat of interweaved colours. Well, the way he does shadows and the edges is magnificent. Up close, it doesn't seem to work, like why would anyone put a dash of purple there next to the brown, blue next to beige, green next to white, but you know, you take a few steps back, find a sweet spot at medium range before the whole picture, just before it becomes an icon, and the image simply forms, with all its painterly charm intact - perfect. It's magic, simply magic.
Breakfast was pasta with curry sauce. I put in too much salt. That was lame. Anyway, it was ok. After the Picasso, I went out for lunch at the famous Paul Bert Bistrot. It had a set going for twenty two euro, which was okay. I think it was good for value, not like the one I had in Firenze, but still it was worth the cost. Starter was zucchini with sour salad, main was mashed potatoes with fish and crispy bread, and the dessert was raspberry sorbet with a delightful honey crispy biscuit. I could have had steak for the main, but I didn't feel particularly like having steak. And the mashed potatoes were very tasty and sufficiently filling. I packed a little of the bistrot's bread with me for a snack in the Louvre. That really helped later on, actually. I even bought another chicken baguette for tea.
The Louvre is a really big place, well, that almost goes without saying. It's actually slightly confusing in its layout. I want to say it seems to have three nicely separated wings, each with different portions dedicated to different segments of art history, but it wasn't easy knowing where one floor started and another ended. Well, it had the same sort of decorated ceilings that the Chateau de Vesailles did, having itself been a royal palace at one point, but unfortunately I didn't pay too much attention to the ceilings. Anyway, yeah, I really liked the ancient art on display, the Egyptian artifacts, the ancient Middle East, Babylonians and Persians, the ancient Greeks stuff. That was actually all very exciting. Hieroglyphic writing, cuneiform script, it really blows me away, stuff that freaking ancient that was once part and parcel of everyday life. A little edict from a king to his courtiers, a little religious diatribe from a priest to his servants. Naturally, the museums had translations of those languages, mostly in french - and isn't it amazing that there exist people in this world that can read this stuff, understand the whole syntax of the pictures and the grammar of the scripts? Well, these things are so old that most of the stuff is reconstructed around the original fragments. Some have survived for four thousand years. I can't even say that figure without feeling awe, four thousand years of bloody, awful, irreplaceable human history.
The Mona Lisa was okay. I thought the copy of Da Vinci's Leda and the Swan was better, and his John the Baptist was a lot more expressive, the whole intriguing smile and secretive gesture. And the whole Louvre being that big, gee, it was just walking past the masters like Delacroix, Ingres, Raphael, Cezanne, Sisley, Rubens, Titian, David, like it was nothing, you know. And the Louvre is my fifteenth museum on this trip, counting cathedrals and palaces. I've been true all this time to my word - I love museums. I've been stuffed with art, but I'm not in peril of losing the thrill of seeing art. Well, my favourite today was David's portrait of Madame Verninac, who as it turns out, is the elder sister of Delacroix. It's just a perfect painting, it's simply flawless, so warm, so delicate, so sensitive, so beautifully painted in the light and shadow of her curves, the folds of her garments. It's so whole, so perfect.
Well, tomorrow is going to be a little more perfect. The final boss, the Musee d'Orsay. In some ways, the starting place; my first love for art began with the exhibition they had at the National Museum. Goodnight.
----
I spent (in EUR):
15 - Picasso museum
22 - Paul Bert Bistrot lunch
6 - train
4 - supporting a classical ensemble in the metro
6 - baguette
20 - Louvre
52 - apartment in Duroc
Well, as I was walking through the Louvre today, it kinda occurred to me, hey, that's my third Cezanne today. That was pretty funny: what a preposterous attitude. Yeah, I should have been trying harder with Cezanne. His is a sort, if I may be so bold, his is a sort of splotchy melded textures in the way he depicts surfaces. It looks a little like every surface has a sort of patchy liquid sheen, swathes of strokes blending into each other to depict the play of light over rough surfaces, rocks, roads, trees, walls and buildings all have their own magical coat of interweaved colours. Well, the way he does shadows and the edges is magnificent. Up close, it doesn't seem to work, like why would anyone put a dash of purple there next to the brown, blue next to beige, green next to white, but you know, you take a few steps back, find a sweet spot at medium range before the whole picture, just before it becomes an icon, and the image simply forms, with all its painterly charm intact - perfect. It's magic, simply magic.
Breakfast was pasta with curry sauce. I put in too much salt. That was lame. Anyway, it was ok. After the Picasso, I went out for lunch at the famous Paul Bert Bistrot. It had a set going for twenty two euro, which was okay. I think it was good for value, not like the one I had in Firenze, but still it was worth the cost. Starter was zucchini with sour salad, main was mashed potatoes with fish and crispy bread, and the dessert was raspberry sorbet with a delightful honey crispy biscuit. I could have had steak for the main, but I didn't feel particularly like having steak. And the mashed potatoes were very tasty and sufficiently filling. I packed a little of the bistrot's bread with me for a snack in the Louvre. That really helped later on, actually. I even bought another chicken baguette for tea.
The Louvre is a really big place, well, that almost goes without saying. It's actually slightly confusing in its layout. I want to say it seems to have three nicely separated wings, each with different portions dedicated to different segments of art history, but it wasn't easy knowing where one floor started and another ended. Well, it had the same sort of decorated ceilings that the Chateau de Vesailles did, having itself been a royal palace at one point, but unfortunately I didn't pay too much attention to the ceilings. Anyway, yeah, I really liked the ancient art on display, the Egyptian artifacts, the ancient Middle East, Babylonians and Persians, the ancient Greeks stuff. That was actually all very exciting. Hieroglyphic writing, cuneiform script, it really blows me away, stuff that freaking ancient that was once part and parcel of everyday life. A little edict from a king to his courtiers, a little religious diatribe from a priest to his servants. Naturally, the museums had translations of those languages, mostly in french - and isn't it amazing that there exist people in this world that can read this stuff, understand the whole syntax of the pictures and the grammar of the scripts? Well, these things are so old that most of the stuff is reconstructed around the original fragments. Some have survived for four thousand years. I can't even say that figure without feeling awe, four thousand years of bloody, awful, irreplaceable human history.
The Mona Lisa was okay. I thought the copy of Da Vinci's Leda and the Swan was better, and his John the Baptist was a lot more expressive, the whole intriguing smile and secretive gesture. And the whole Louvre being that big, gee, it was just walking past the masters like Delacroix, Ingres, Raphael, Cezanne, Sisley, Rubens, Titian, David, like it was nothing, you know. And the Louvre is my fifteenth museum on this trip, counting cathedrals and palaces. I've been true all this time to my word - I love museums. I've been stuffed with art, but I'm not in peril of losing the thrill of seeing art. Well, my favourite today was David's portrait of Madame Verninac, who as it turns out, is the elder sister of Delacroix. It's just a perfect painting, it's simply flawless, so warm, so delicate, so sensitive, so beautifully painted in the light and shadow of her curves, the folds of her garments. It's so whole, so perfect.
Well, tomorrow is going to be a little more perfect. The final boss, the Musee d'Orsay. In some ways, the starting place; my first love for art began with the exhibition they had at the National Museum. Goodnight.
----
I spent (in EUR):
15 - Picasso museum
22 - Paul Bert Bistrot lunch
6 - train
4 - supporting a classical ensemble in the metro
6 - baguette
20 - Louvre
52 - apartment in Duroc
Wednesday, August 14, 2019
CCXXXVI - Paris, Mardi, 30 July 2019
I've been doing the home-cooked pasta thing again. It's a slightly more advanced cuisine of the two stuffed pastas, ravioli and tortellini, and I'm mixing up the sauce, alternating with quattro formaggi and curry. It worked! it's pretty good. It's a simple to prepare, hearty meal. Pesto looks ugly, but it tastes good and fresh.
We didn't cycle out of Paris all the way to Versailles, which is what I initially thought we were going to do. Instead, we took an express train somewhere into the neighbourhood of Versailles, and picked up our bicycles from a little underground garage. Well, even with the shorter cycle to the Chateau, we would end up doing enough of the bicycle for the day. So at first we had breakfast at a nearby market, where the bakery had the most delicious Feuillette Jambon Fromage, which I think loosely means pastry with pork and cheese. I would bet a reasonable amount of money that it had lard plastered on the crust - that crust was so wonderfully browned and tasty. After getting lunch - I bought stewed eggplant with minced beef and a quiche - we headed out to the nearby gardens to the Chateau, as well as the grounds and apartments which lodged the royal mistress.
For the group's picnic lunch, we sat at a shaded spot along a huge canal, a cross shaped monstrosity of a canal. It was as far as the eye could see from the Chateau grounds and out over the canal, it was breathtaking. With lunch, some of us took a little nap, others chilled around and chatted. Unfortuntately, we couldn't get wine into the Chateau grounds. I went around the canal on the bicycle, and it took me twenty minutes, so it had to be two kilometres long by one wide. That was a lot of water for a canal. Our guides for the day said that it took half of France's total GDP to turn out that Chateau and its grounds, which is of course, completely insane. But that was France in the glory days under Louis XIV. Apparently, it needed more water than the city of Paris. Well, on the whole it didn't really commend itself to me, it was just too grandiose, too ostentatious, and to my mind, fairly unimaginative. Maybe I'm ignorant of its architects and artists, but to my amateur eye they don't seem to be of the calibre of the Florentines. Well, the citizens of Paris didn't take too fondly to all its trappings and comforts either, as they stormed it while Louis XV hid in it in 1789.
The tour was okay enough on the whole. I went back to the apartment for pasta with pesto, and decided to head out for a nice easy run before going to another jazz club. I hadn't run in two weeks! The evening was pretty inviting, a little cool and breezy. Well, I ended up running past some fields somewhere towards the river Seine, and some guys were playing touch rugby. They were short a man, so I asked to join and they were cool with it. So yeah, I had a lovely time playing. They were real rugby players as well. It was a beautiful rosy pink sunset evening, with the golden dome of the Musée de l'Armée behind us, and some of the heritage buildings around us, there was a good breeze, and the game was hard and friendly. It's beautiful, like the Padang, but more European.
I bought some moussaka at the store - eggplant, cheese, beef, tomato, etc. - potato and ham salad, and yoghurt with passionfruit, to heat up with the microwave in the apartment. Box wine as well, to round off supper. Well, that didn't have much soul in it, but it was okay. I got a big box of wine for six euro, and I'm going to try and drink enough to put a small dent in it. It was cheap, and from being in Australia, I know box wine is generally decent even if it seems really cheap.
Okay, gonna head to the Picasso museum and the Louvre tomorrow. The guides earlier today said that it was going to be crazy busy at the Louvre, and since it was open till nine forty-five pm, it was no point heading there early at nine am. Fair enough.
Well, I'm beat. I've really enjoyed all the apartments I've stayed in so far, so I'm definitely well in favour of the airbnb thing; since hotels would have been twice as expensive. It's nice to think of it now, but I've been rather fortunate on this trip so far. Well, goodnight, folks.
----
I spent (in EUR):
135 - Chateau de Versailles tour
11 - pastry, quiche, aubergine
8 - store groceries
52 - apartment in Duroc
We didn't cycle out of Paris all the way to Versailles, which is what I initially thought we were going to do. Instead, we took an express train somewhere into the neighbourhood of Versailles, and picked up our bicycles from a little underground garage. Well, even with the shorter cycle to the Chateau, we would end up doing enough of the bicycle for the day. So at first we had breakfast at a nearby market, where the bakery had the most delicious Feuillette Jambon Fromage, which I think loosely means pastry with pork and cheese. I would bet a reasonable amount of money that it had lard plastered on the crust - that crust was so wonderfully browned and tasty. After getting lunch - I bought stewed eggplant with minced beef and a quiche - we headed out to the nearby gardens to the Chateau, as well as the grounds and apartments which lodged the royal mistress.
For the group's picnic lunch, we sat at a shaded spot along a huge canal, a cross shaped monstrosity of a canal. It was as far as the eye could see from the Chateau grounds and out over the canal, it was breathtaking. With lunch, some of us took a little nap, others chilled around and chatted. Unfortuntately, we couldn't get wine into the Chateau grounds. I went around the canal on the bicycle, and it took me twenty minutes, so it had to be two kilometres long by one wide. That was a lot of water for a canal. Our guides for the day said that it took half of France's total GDP to turn out that Chateau and its grounds, which is of course, completely insane. But that was France in the glory days under Louis XIV. Apparently, it needed more water than the city of Paris. Well, on the whole it didn't really commend itself to me, it was just too grandiose, too ostentatious, and to my mind, fairly unimaginative. Maybe I'm ignorant of its architects and artists, but to my amateur eye they don't seem to be of the calibre of the Florentines. Well, the citizens of Paris didn't take too fondly to all its trappings and comforts either, as they stormed it while Louis XV hid in it in 1789.
The tour was okay enough on the whole. I went back to the apartment for pasta with pesto, and decided to head out for a nice easy run before going to another jazz club. I hadn't run in two weeks! The evening was pretty inviting, a little cool and breezy. Well, I ended up running past some fields somewhere towards the river Seine, and some guys were playing touch rugby. They were short a man, so I asked to join and they were cool with it. So yeah, I had a lovely time playing. They were real rugby players as well. It was a beautiful rosy pink sunset evening, with the golden dome of the Musée de l'Armée behind us, and some of the heritage buildings around us, there was a good breeze, and the game was hard and friendly. It's beautiful, like the Padang, but more European.
I bought some moussaka at the store - eggplant, cheese, beef, tomato, etc. - potato and ham salad, and yoghurt with passionfruit, to heat up with the microwave in the apartment. Box wine as well, to round off supper. Well, that didn't have much soul in it, but it was okay. I got a big box of wine for six euro, and I'm going to try and drink enough to put a small dent in it. It was cheap, and from being in Australia, I know box wine is generally decent even if it seems really cheap.
Okay, gonna head to the Picasso museum and the Louvre tomorrow. The guides earlier today said that it was going to be crazy busy at the Louvre, and since it was open till nine forty-five pm, it was no point heading there early at nine am. Fair enough.
Well, I'm beat. I've really enjoyed all the apartments I've stayed in so far, so I'm definitely well in favour of the airbnb thing; since hotels would have been twice as expensive. It's nice to think of it now, but I've been rather fortunate on this trip so far. Well, goodnight, folks.
----
I spent (in EUR):
135 - Chateau de Versailles tour
11 - pastry, quiche, aubergine
8 - store groceries
52 - apartment in Duroc
CCXXXV - Paris, Lundi, 29 July 2019
Paris! It's such a relief to see a nice, clean city after Firenze. Looking back, Firenze felt really hemmed in, oddly laid out, tangled, and strangely claustrophobic. I mean, the old city has its charms, but maybe in the heat and the deluge of art to see, I missed the forest for the trees. Well, anyway, I'm glad to see Paris. Out here in the little neighbourhood of Duroc, the streets are nicely laid out, wide, the trees are friendly, it's not too hot, everything looks a little, well, cleaner, people sit out in restaurants and bars imbibing wine and having a brioche - it's all so inviting. I would later learn that I had dodged the Paris heat wave while I was in Italy. Well, it is what it is. And Paris has its charms, but you know, cities grow slowly on me.
I took a walk today after pasta at home - pasta was three kinds of store-bought ravioli and tortellini with pesto sauce. It was a beautiful day, the sun set at eight forty-five. It's still a little crazy to me, but since it wasn't too hot, it was pretty lovely. The apartment is an old two roomer on the seventh floor - it used to be servants' quarters. It was nice; I could see the Eiffel Tower and the Musée de l'Armée from the apartment. Since the day was so long, I went out. Walked past Notre Dame, and boy, it sure looks like it's missing something. All along the banks of the river Seine, people were sitting out, chilling, chatting, having drinks and food, totally relaxing. It was that kind of day. Well, I think the women of Rome are still more beautiful.
So along the river there were little restaurants, and at one of them, you could sit at a kerbside to listen to a little jazz bandstand. Well, they weren't so good, and the restaurant goers didn't really pay all that much attention to them. Still, it was nice sitting there in the shade, while cyclists, skaters and joggers breezed past, and children ran helter-skelter along the little road. Boy, it got a little warm again. Well, after that ended, I made it to a nice jazz bar, Sunset Sunrise, named perhaps after that crazy little jewish song. Well, the band they had tonight was fabulous. I would later learn from reading the program that a lot of bands came through Sunset, and most of the time, you'd have to pay like thirty euro to get in. I'm not sure if it came with a drink. Well, anyway tonight was free! and the music was great. Trumpet, guitar, double bass, piano, and a bunch of artists came by to get their jam on. Sitting where I was, I could see them come in and watch the band, and you know, they didn't all look too much like they could play, but boy, they could all play. It was really nice, I liked it a lot. I ordered a double Nikka from the barrel, and it was at least a triple. I drank and drank and drank for two hours and when I looked at my glass, it felt like I'd barely put a dent in it. Way too big for a double. In my mind, bartenders admire double orders, no rocks. And they should. Jazz and whiskey - it sounds like a cliche, but it was a beautiful night. I wished, as I often, often do, that there was a real jazz bar in Singapore, like good old Jazz at South Bridge, that moved and didn't survive. Well, I had to leave at midnight, as I was sloshed, and those guys looked like they wanted to keep the jam going.
Tomorrow is the cycle out to the Château de Versailles. Bonsoir!
----
I spent (in EUR):
128 - Air France from Firenze to Paris
3 - breakfast
27 - metro tickets
21.5 - supermarket groceries
26 - double Nikka
52 - apartment in Duroc
I took a walk today after pasta at home - pasta was three kinds of store-bought ravioli and tortellini with pesto sauce. It was a beautiful day, the sun set at eight forty-five. It's still a little crazy to me, but since it wasn't too hot, it was pretty lovely. The apartment is an old two roomer on the seventh floor - it used to be servants' quarters. It was nice; I could see the Eiffel Tower and the Musée de l'Armée from the apartment. Since the day was so long, I went out. Walked past Notre Dame, and boy, it sure looks like it's missing something. All along the banks of the river Seine, people were sitting out, chilling, chatting, having drinks and food, totally relaxing. It was that kind of day. Well, I think the women of Rome are still more beautiful.
So along the river there were little restaurants, and at one of them, you could sit at a kerbside to listen to a little jazz bandstand. Well, they weren't so good, and the restaurant goers didn't really pay all that much attention to them. Still, it was nice sitting there in the shade, while cyclists, skaters and joggers breezed past, and children ran helter-skelter along the little road. Boy, it got a little warm again. Well, after that ended, I made it to a nice jazz bar, Sunset Sunrise, named perhaps after that crazy little jewish song. Well, the band they had tonight was fabulous. I would later learn from reading the program that a lot of bands came through Sunset, and most of the time, you'd have to pay like thirty euro to get in. I'm not sure if it came with a drink. Well, anyway tonight was free! and the music was great. Trumpet, guitar, double bass, piano, and a bunch of artists came by to get their jam on. Sitting where I was, I could see them come in and watch the band, and you know, they didn't all look too much like they could play, but boy, they could all play. It was really nice, I liked it a lot. I ordered a double Nikka from the barrel, and it was at least a triple. I drank and drank and drank for two hours and when I looked at my glass, it felt like I'd barely put a dent in it. Way too big for a double. In my mind, bartenders admire double orders, no rocks. And they should. Jazz and whiskey - it sounds like a cliche, but it was a beautiful night. I wished, as I often, often do, that there was a real jazz bar in Singapore, like good old Jazz at South Bridge, that moved and didn't survive. Well, I had to leave at midnight, as I was sloshed, and those guys looked like they wanted to keep the jam going.
Tomorrow is the cycle out to the Château de Versailles. Bonsoir!
----
I spent (in EUR):
128 - Air France from Firenze to Paris
3 - breakfast
27 - metro tickets
21.5 - supermarket groceries
26 - double Nikka
52 - apartment in Duroc
Tuesday, August 13, 2019
CCXXXIV - Firenze, Domenica, 28 July 2019
The big camera I borrowed stopped working yesterday. It made me very annoyed. Three museums to see today, the Louvre and the Musee d'Orsay next week. I don't know what to say. I tried to search YouTube for ways to fix it, but naturally, it was beyond me. So I am now in a bad mood.
Well, allora. Luckily, the phone camera isn't terrible, although it is slow to focus. So I will have to get on with it and appreciate the stuff a bit more in person - which is probably the whole point anyway. I suppose I can just buy a book of the art if I wanted something to remember. Well, it is what it is. Still annoyed, though.
I had a moment midway through the second museum today, the Uffizi, where I honestly started getting a bit short of breath, a bit woozy. That museum is enormous, and the memory of it now is daunting. Of course, over this trip I've had to will myself to keep going a little, but right then I had a moment where I thought I was going to give up, at least after this one was over. Yeah, three museums today almost had me beat. Physically, and I don't really want to complain, my upper and lower back hurts, my neck is tired, most parts of my legs are a little achey from all the standing. Mentally, I'm just about stuffed to the gills with the art. Well, I had to keep going. They say that your brain naturally reverts to long, slow delta waves, even if you close your eyes for a minute - that's the sort of resting brain wave pattern that dominates in sleep, and which helps to reset the neurons and mental apparatus. Yeah, I managed to sit down and close my eyes for a while, and you know what, it helped. So I managed to gird myself a little and make it through the Uffizi, which is a really big museum. I probably didn't enjoy it as much as all the other museums, and I don't really have fond memories of it, which is a shame, but on the whole I still managed to see all of it. So that's ok, for me.
Well, I decided a did need a real break, so it was time for a good lunch. It turned out really well, actually. I ordered quattro formaggi spaghetti, but they mistook the order and pesto spaghetti came out. Well, it turned out well, because I noticed that they had a bistecca steak for twenty euro, and promptly changed my order. It was great. I got salad, cold meats, bread, and a five hundred gram t-bone steak - for the record, that was a big steak. Decided against a glass of wine, cos' I honestly didn't want to get too rosy before the last visit to the Palazzo Vecchio.
I liked the Vecchio; the lunch probably helped. There was a lot of the whole epic art murals, grand architecture and heroic sculptures. Not for the last time, I thought to myself, it's amazing how the old artists can be that good in different artistic fields. Like you think of Michelangelo, his painting, architectural works, and sculptures, and it just astounds, you know, like how much talent can one man have? Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Titian, Caravaggio, not to mention the countless other great Florentine and Venetian artists, and that's just the popular Italian guys. It's crazy how just good they were in Europe, the French, the Dutch, the Flemish, and so on. To see something in the flesh, to stand before the actual paintings and admire them, albeit inevitably restored here and there, it's so beautiful! So moving and emotional, so much depth and technique and artistic sensitivity. All the descriptions and analyses are unimportant; standing there and taking it in, reading the colours and strokes, the paintwork, the characters, the themes, messages and portrayed emotions, that's so much more enjoyable, so invigorating.
The Palazzo also had a tower, and that was lovely. It had a sheltered gallery area which offered all-round views of Firenze. As the sun was slowly hanging in the mid evening sky, and the wind puffed gently, I sat down on the stone benches and had a little nap. Boy, it was beautiful. It would have been spectacular if I've had waited until the sun actually set, as there were clouds girding the day, but that would have been an hour of hanging around, as the sun sets at like eight thirty. Anyway, I took my time there in the tower, which I'd probably love to visit again, honestly, then went down for some gelato and a view of the sunset from the bridges over the river Arno.
After that, back to the apartment. It's a really neat apartment actually, very classy and intelligent - there's a ton of books; it has Ai Weiwei and Honoré de Balzac, for heavens' sakes. I enjoyed the apartment, aside from knocking my head on a low beam. Well, I hope I'll get over the camera soon. Flying off to Paris tomorrow. Ciao, Italia. Arrivederci.
----
I spent (in EUR):
7 - breakfast
23 - Galleria dell'Accademia
21 - Galleria degli Uffizi
21 - steak lunch
18 - Palazzo Vecchio
4 - gelato
53 - apartment in Firenze
Well, allora. Luckily, the phone camera isn't terrible, although it is slow to focus. So I will have to get on with it and appreciate the stuff a bit more in person - which is probably the whole point anyway. I suppose I can just buy a book of the art if I wanted something to remember. Well, it is what it is. Still annoyed, though.
I had a moment midway through the second museum today, the Uffizi, where I honestly started getting a bit short of breath, a bit woozy. That museum is enormous, and the memory of it now is daunting. Of course, over this trip I've had to will myself to keep going a little, but right then I had a moment where I thought I was going to give up, at least after this one was over. Yeah, three museums today almost had me beat. Physically, and I don't really want to complain, my upper and lower back hurts, my neck is tired, most parts of my legs are a little achey from all the standing. Mentally, I'm just about stuffed to the gills with the art. Well, I had to keep going. They say that your brain naturally reverts to long, slow delta waves, even if you close your eyes for a minute - that's the sort of resting brain wave pattern that dominates in sleep, and which helps to reset the neurons and mental apparatus. Yeah, I managed to sit down and close my eyes for a while, and you know what, it helped. So I managed to gird myself a little and make it through the Uffizi, which is a really big museum. I probably didn't enjoy it as much as all the other museums, and I don't really have fond memories of it, which is a shame, but on the whole I still managed to see all of it. So that's ok, for me.
Well, I decided a did need a real break, so it was time for a good lunch. It turned out really well, actually. I ordered quattro formaggi spaghetti, but they mistook the order and pesto spaghetti came out. Well, it turned out well, because I noticed that they had a bistecca steak for twenty euro, and promptly changed my order. It was great. I got salad, cold meats, bread, and a five hundred gram t-bone steak - for the record, that was a big steak. Decided against a glass of wine, cos' I honestly didn't want to get too rosy before the last visit to the Palazzo Vecchio.
I liked the Vecchio; the lunch probably helped. There was a lot of the whole epic art murals, grand architecture and heroic sculptures. Not for the last time, I thought to myself, it's amazing how the old artists can be that good in different artistic fields. Like you think of Michelangelo, his painting, architectural works, and sculptures, and it just astounds, you know, like how much talent can one man have? Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Titian, Caravaggio, not to mention the countless other great Florentine and Venetian artists, and that's just the popular Italian guys. It's crazy how just good they were in Europe, the French, the Dutch, the Flemish, and so on. To see something in the flesh, to stand before the actual paintings and admire them, albeit inevitably restored here and there, it's so beautiful! So moving and emotional, so much depth and technique and artistic sensitivity. All the descriptions and analyses are unimportant; standing there and taking it in, reading the colours and strokes, the paintwork, the characters, the themes, messages and portrayed emotions, that's so much more enjoyable, so invigorating.
The Palazzo also had a tower, and that was lovely. It had a sheltered gallery area which offered all-round views of Firenze. As the sun was slowly hanging in the mid evening sky, and the wind puffed gently, I sat down on the stone benches and had a little nap. Boy, it was beautiful. It would have been spectacular if I've had waited until the sun actually set, as there were clouds girding the day, but that would have been an hour of hanging around, as the sun sets at like eight thirty. Anyway, I took my time there in the tower, which I'd probably love to visit again, honestly, then went down for some gelato and a view of the sunset from the bridges over the river Arno.
After that, back to the apartment. It's a really neat apartment actually, very classy and intelligent - there's a ton of books; it has Ai Weiwei and Honoré de Balzac, for heavens' sakes. I enjoyed the apartment, aside from knocking my head on a low beam. Well, I hope I'll get over the camera soon. Flying off to Paris tomorrow. Ciao, Italia. Arrivederci.
----
I spent (in EUR):
7 - breakfast
23 - Galleria dell'Accademia
21 - Galleria degli Uffizi
21 - steak lunch
18 - Palazzo Vecchio
4 - gelato
53 - apartment in Firenze
Monday, August 12, 2019
CCXXXIII - Firenze, Sabato, 27 July 2019
A beautiful week has passed out here. Well, it's no point being nostalgic; it's important to live in the present. So far, everything has gone just about as well as hoped for, and every day has been special. It has been wonderful. Yes, I have had to toil a little bit, but nothing that was truly worth complaining about. The trains, the moving between places, the roads, the daunting museums, it sometimes feels arduous, and I'm quite glad with my general positivity. Of course, I've also been fortunate on this trip; one thing in particular stands out - when intending to reverse, I accidentally stalled the car out just in time before my excess acceleration would have made me hit a parked van behind me. The manual car! I probably shouldn't have taken it, in hindsight. And on the whole, I've probably packed too many museums into this trip - which is fine doing solo, but not with companions. I've enjoyed the museums a whole lot though, and I've tried to place chill-out things to do in between.
Driving is fun; but it's tough to do so in Firenze. There are so many one way streets, packed-in buildings, and an odd circular laneway that runs around the city, with lots of tunnels and turnoffs so it is pretty hard to get a gauge of where to go and where to turn. Especially, driving right handed. The GPS I got on the car was also outdated, naturally, so it sometimes asked me to take one way streets the wrong way. I didn't much like the whole crowded feel I got in Firenze. I did get to meet a Norwegian family while queueing outside the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, a couple travelling with their boy. They said they see the auroras all the time from their place, and there's good hiking out where they stay. That's crazy. So I might plan a visit sometime; I've kept their contact.
Driving out to a farmhouse vineyard in Greve in Chianti was so much fun, I really enjoyed the whole experience being out there in the country. The winemakers were really nice, and they explained the winemaking that the grandfather started, and the olive gathering and pressing, and the vegetable garden. It rained a little bit while we were out there, but I still saw a bit of the earth, the cultivated hills, the whole rustic charm. Driving up and down the hills on winding paths was very fun. We had a little dinner as well, pasta, cold meats, and their wine, which unfortunately I couldn't bring with me. I would probably really enjoy being out there at harvest time, between August and October.
Well, I have to get to the Galleria dell'Accademia at eight fifteen am tomorrow. I don't remember why. To bed, then!
----
I spent (in EUR):
36 - car rental
7 - breakfast
17 - parking in Firenze
18 - Il Grande Museo del Duomo
3 - risotto for lunch
14 - tolls
23 - Greve in Chianti winemaker visit
30 - petrol
53 - apartment in Firenze
Driving is fun; but it's tough to do so in Firenze. There are so many one way streets, packed-in buildings, and an odd circular laneway that runs around the city, with lots of tunnels and turnoffs so it is pretty hard to get a gauge of where to go and where to turn. Especially, driving right handed. The GPS I got on the car was also outdated, naturally, so it sometimes asked me to take one way streets the wrong way. I didn't much like the whole crowded feel I got in Firenze. I did get to meet a Norwegian family while queueing outside the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, a couple travelling with their boy. They said they see the auroras all the time from their place, and there's good hiking out where they stay. That's crazy. So I might plan a visit sometime; I've kept their contact.
Driving out to a farmhouse vineyard in Greve in Chianti was so much fun, I really enjoyed the whole experience being out there in the country. The winemakers were really nice, and they explained the winemaking that the grandfather started, and the olive gathering and pressing, and the vegetable garden. It rained a little bit while we were out there, but I still saw a bit of the earth, the cultivated hills, the whole rustic charm. Driving up and down the hills on winding paths was very fun. We had a little dinner as well, pasta, cold meats, and their wine, which unfortunately I couldn't bring with me. I would probably really enjoy being out there at harvest time, between August and October.
Well, I have to get to the Galleria dell'Accademia at eight fifteen am tomorrow. I don't remember why. To bed, then!
----
I spent (in EUR):
36 - car rental
7 - breakfast
17 - parking in Firenze
18 - Il Grande Museo del Duomo
3 - risotto for lunch
14 - tolls
23 - Greve in Chianti winemaker visit
30 - petrol
53 - apartment in Firenze
CCXXXII - Monterosso, Venerdi, 26 July 2019
I was gassed out today. Paddling was great fun, it was a lovely clear summer day for it. The mild rocking made me a little seasick two hours in, but it was not too bad. Thankfully, we stopped after the first long leg for a picnic lunch at a little grotto along the rocky coast. It had a little waterfall, which was a treasure to stand under and get a little shower. Despite Julian, our guide's, cautions, I still managed to slip on it and fall on my bum. Snorkeling from that little spot was good fun as well, the water was cool, clear and refreshing, with light currents. The fish darted about in little pockets, seeking food amongst the brown sea-grass and moss, the little blighters. Julian was great, actually. He'd lived all over Italy, and was now in Monterosso along the Cinque Terre, so he told us a little about its ancient history, its terraces, and its hardy inhabitants that had build stone walls and hamlets here over five hundred years, rock by rock. And it was nice to listen to a local talk a little bit more about Italian history, his thoughts on the catholic church, and so on.
I met a couple of friends as well, a Londoner and a Frankfurter. They were both travelling alone too. The German had seven weeks away from work, imagine that! We got along really well, so we went off to have a gelato, a couple of beers, where they also gave us pickled olives and something like a salty pickled pea-sized fruit, and we had a seafood pasta dinner as well at a nice restaurant near the water. It was nice and balmy in the evening, so we went out for another dip in the water right around sunset. Ah, it was beautiful. It was good fun talking about about travelling with them, and a very nice evening to have company for dinner, and on the train back. Dinner was pretty good value too, for what we were served with. Naturally, we dodged the conductors.
I decided to skip the train interchange into Firenze tomorrow, and just park in a paid garage. The whole train changing thing is too tiresome. Well, I've had a long day. Ciao!
----
I spent (in EUR):
36 - car rental
2 - breakfast
100 - paddle tour in Monterosso
4 - gelato
15 - beers
20 - seafood pasta dinner
70 - apartment in Vernazza
I met a couple of friends as well, a Londoner and a Frankfurter. They were both travelling alone too. The German had seven weeks away from work, imagine that! We got along really well, so we went off to have a gelato, a couple of beers, where they also gave us pickled olives and something like a salty pickled pea-sized fruit, and we had a seafood pasta dinner as well at a nice restaurant near the water. It was nice and balmy in the evening, so we went out for another dip in the water right around sunset. Ah, it was beautiful. It was good fun talking about about travelling with them, and a very nice evening to have company for dinner, and on the train back. Dinner was pretty good value too, for what we were served with. Naturally, we dodged the conductors.
I decided to skip the train interchange into Firenze tomorrow, and just park in a paid garage. The whole train changing thing is too tiresome. Well, I've had a long day. Ciao!
----
I spent (in EUR):
36 - car rental
2 - breakfast
100 - paddle tour in Monterosso
4 - gelato
15 - beers
20 - seafood pasta dinner
70 - apartment in Vernazza
Sunday, August 11, 2019
CCXXXI - Vernazza, Giovedi, 25 July 2019
Driving today was quite fun - a bright sunny day, Italian radio stations, even the Scorpions' Winds of Change came on the radio. The GPS I had on the car got me on the expressways mostly, but I tried to take a couple of turnoffs to see some of the narrow country roads. It was nice to get off the expressway, but I didn't manage to do that much. I had a train to get on when I reached la Spezia, and the train would take the coastal track out to Vernazza. Again, it was a very hot day. I only managed to get into Vernazza at about 3 pm, after missing a train or two. It's so nice though, to see the ocean from a train, it always feels nostalgic.
The places where the sea meets the coastline here are generally rocky. They don't have the soft white faux beaches we do in Sentosa and the East Coast Park. So out here, it takes a lot more clambering and slipping around on large, wet rocks, most of which have cracked off and tumbled down the cliffsides, and once in awhile, slipping through the clear blue, salty water. Dodging the intense sun, I managed to find a couple of shady spots to sit and watch the ocean a little. The sun sets at like eight thirty pm, so at like seven pm it might as well be four pm; it's crazy. It was nice to have a breeze as well, to keep the land mosquitoes away. I had to tie my shirt around my head to cover it. That whole ocean watching thing, man, it gets old very, very slowly.
Vernazza is a smallish coast-side town. It used to be one of five shrines kept by ancient peoples on this coast, and later inhabitants hewed out terraces on the steep hills to grow grapes for wine. Well, in the modern day, the trains and the tourists keep this Cinque Terre region going. It's still fairly tidy, colourful, and vibrant. There was a festival to a Saint Giovanni Battista, i.e. John the Baptist, tonight in Monterosso, the neighbouring town, and where I would be paddling tomorrow. It had the most amazing fireworks display from the coastline, and it went on and on from eleven to midnight. Some of the fizzlers I'd not seen before, and it was terrifying because it was so close! Some of the fireworks bursts set off car alarms, and the crowd would gasp and shudder as the explosions rocked the sky. And right after the fireworks, there was a giant beach party with club music - it was awesome. I missed a train stop on the way back, and had to dodge a lady conductor at one thirty in the morning. Well, that was not so fun.
----
I spent: (in EUR):
20 - train from Verona to Firenze
36 - car rental
7 - breakfast, quiche, water
15 - expressway toll fees
6 - train from la Spezia to Vernazza
4 - pizza
4 - train from Vernazza to Monterosso
70 - apartment in Vernazza
The places where the sea meets the coastline here are generally rocky. They don't have the soft white faux beaches we do in Sentosa and the East Coast Park. So out here, it takes a lot more clambering and slipping around on large, wet rocks, most of which have cracked off and tumbled down the cliffsides, and once in awhile, slipping through the clear blue, salty water. Dodging the intense sun, I managed to find a couple of shady spots to sit and watch the ocean a little. The sun sets at like eight thirty pm, so at like seven pm it might as well be four pm; it's crazy. It was nice to have a breeze as well, to keep the land mosquitoes away. I had to tie my shirt around my head to cover it. That whole ocean watching thing, man, it gets old very, very slowly.
Vernazza is a smallish coast-side town. It used to be one of five shrines kept by ancient peoples on this coast, and later inhabitants hewed out terraces on the steep hills to grow grapes for wine. Well, in the modern day, the trains and the tourists keep this Cinque Terre region going. It's still fairly tidy, colourful, and vibrant. There was a festival to a Saint Giovanni Battista, i.e. John the Baptist, tonight in Monterosso, the neighbouring town, and where I would be paddling tomorrow. It had the most amazing fireworks display from the coastline, and it went on and on from eleven to midnight. Some of the fizzlers I'd not seen before, and it was terrifying because it was so close! Some of the fireworks bursts set off car alarms, and the crowd would gasp and shudder as the explosions rocked the sky. And right after the fireworks, there was a giant beach party with club music - it was awesome. I missed a train stop on the way back, and had to dodge a lady conductor at one thirty in the morning. Well, that was not so fun.
----
I spent: (in EUR):
20 - train from Verona to Firenze
36 - car rental
7 - breakfast, quiche, water
15 - expressway toll fees
6 - train from la Spezia to Vernazza
4 - pizza
4 - train from Vernazza to Monterosso
70 - apartment in Vernazza
CCXXX - Bologna, Mercoledi, 24 July 2019
It finally, finally feels like Italy. It's a combination of my kinda being out here on holiday long enough, and of kinda being able to relax since the whole day's program is more or less decided. And being out of the city, moving around and seeing the sights on the bus, it feels like I'm finally getting to know Italy. And what a day it's been, I couldn't be more thrilled with how this day has turned out. I'm pretty excited with the photos on the DSLR as well, I'd estimate most of them are usable.
The tour today took us to several places in the nearby Emilia-Bologna region. We went to a parmesan cheese making factory. It's incredible, they take the milk, boil it for awhile in large copper vats, and then basically use cloth nets to lift out huge, seventy kilogram blocks of cheese. Then they take those blocks, cut them in half, and slide them into rounded wheel containers, where they sit for a few weeks. It's nice how you just need milk and a parmesan cheese process, and the cheese basically makes itself. Those rows and rows of stacked cheese, like a Tom and Jerry cartoon episode, the smell of it is so rich and strong - sharp, salty and tasty. The cheese tasting we had after that went over well with the group, and the sweet, bubbly red wine was a big hit.
The next stop was a meat curing house - Prosciutto de Moderna, by Nina Gianfranco. I may not have eaten a whole lot of cured meat in my day, but god, that prosciutto was the best I've ever had. It's unreal how tasty and fragrant it is, not salty or overly porkish, just wonderfully tasty, delicate and soft. Those hindlegs! I took some home with me, but I'm not too sure where I'll get the meat sliced up.
Well, there's more after that. We went to a balsamic vinegar house - I mean, we call it vinegar, but really the Italian is Aceto Balsamico Naturale. Which is fine because all they do is they boil the grapes a little longer until the juice is very fruity and flavourful, kinda like a soft, sweet strong port. There was the fifteen and the thirty year aged versions, and the latter was very thick and wonderful. It goes well with gelato, naturally, but I didn't think it needed it, because it's wonderful by itself. It's pretty expensive for the thirty year one; there was even a one hundred and fifty year aged version, but it didn't have a price displayed. Well, I liked the flavour, but I didn't take any because it's pretty expensive (and deservedly so).
The Ferrari museum after that - well, it's all the old and fast cars. It's no secret, I love bikes more than cars. But this was still impressive, of course. The 2002 Enzo Ferrari is the coolest cat I've ever seen though, yes, cat. The Spider parked outside was nice too, curves and all. A test run on that baby, on normal streets, not the track, was a hundred and twenty euro for ten minutes. Well, I can't afford that, guys.
Finally, we had a long lunch at a country restaurant, Ca Bianca, the white house. It was very, very good. We had three types of pasta, including tiny tortellinis, all fresh and hand made. Then we had this incredibly soft, warm tissue sheet-like pastry with prosciutto on it - that was fabulous! I wish I'd asked what that pastry was. For the meat course, they brought out roast beef, which was delicious! I ate a lot of that. We also had desert, chocolate cake and ice cream I think, I can't remember, and coffee. There was plenty of food for the group, and we had a good long talk over lunch, with lots of good wine. I enjoyed the crap out of that. Our super cheerful tour guide, Andrea, mentioned that the price of lunch might have been about forty euro, which I think would have been good value.
That was a lovely tour. I really did enjoy having a few chats with an Italian, our guide Andrea. That was a nice thing to get out of my system - to kind of be, well, connected. And Andrea was warm and wonderful, like a jovial uncle who praises everything effusively. After the tour ended, I walked around the city centre a little bit, and some of the cathedrals. Bologna is nice. I would totally visit again, knowing a local or two. But I'd have to reconsider coming in Summer. Well, a drive to Vernazza tomorrow. Ciao!
----
I spent (in EUR):
160 - Ferrari and food tour
9 - prosciutto
1 - water
2.5 - lighted a candle, and donations
46 - apartment in Bologna
The tour today took us to several places in the nearby Emilia-Bologna region. We went to a parmesan cheese making factory. It's incredible, they take the milk, boil it for awhile in large copper vats, and then basically use cloth nets to lift out huge, seventy kilogram blocks of cheese. Then they take those blocks, cut them in half, and slide them into rounded wheel containers, where they sit for a few weeks. It's nice how you just need milk and a parmesan cheese process, and the cheese basically makes itself. Those rows and rows of stacked cheese, like a Tom and Jerry cartoon episode, the smell of it is so rich and strong - sharp, salty and tasty. The cheese tasting we had after that went over well with the group, and the sweet, bubbly red wine was a big hit.
The next stop was a meat curing house - Prosciutto de Moderna, by Nina Gianfranco. I may not have eaten a whole lot of cured meat in my day, but god, that prosciutto was the best I've ever had. It's unreal how tasty and fragrant it is, not salty or overly porkish, just wonderfully tasty, delicate and soft. Those hindlegs! I took some home with me, but I'm not too sure where I'll get the meat sliced up.
Well, there's more after that. We went to a balsamic vinegar house - I mean, we call it vinegar, but really the Italian is Aceto Balsamico Naturale. Which is fine because all they do is they boil the grapes a little longer until the juice is very fruity and flavourful, kinda like a soft, sweet strong port. There was the fifteen and the thirty year aged versions, and the latter was very thick and wonderful. It goes well with gelato, naturally, but I didn't think it needed it, because it's wonderful by itself. It's pretty expensive for the thirty year one; there was even a one hundred and fifty year aged version, but it didn't have a price displayed. Well, I liked the flavour, but I didn't take any because it's pretty expensive (and deservedly so).
The Ferrari museum after that - well, it's all the old and fast cars. It's no secret, I love bikes more than cars. But this was still impressive, of course. The 2002 Enzo Ferrari is the coolest cat I've ever seen though, yes, cat. The Spider parked outside was nice too, curves and all. A test run on that baby, on normal streets, not the track, was a hundred and twenty euro for ten minutes. Well, I can't afford that, guys.
Finally, we had a long lunch at a country restaurant, Ca Bianca, the white house. It was very, very good. We had three types of pasta, including tiny tortellinis, all fresh and hand made. Then we had this incredibly soft, warm tissue sheet-like pastry with prosciutto on it - that was fabulous! I wish I'd asked what that pastry was. For the meat course, they brought out roast beef, which was delicious! I ate a lot of that. We also had desert, chocolate cake and ice cream I think, I can't remember, and coffee. There was plenty of food for the group, and we had a good long talk over lunch, with lots of good wine. I enjoyed the crap out of that. Our super cheerful tour guide, Andrea, mentioned that the price of lunch might have been about forty euro, which I think would have been good value.
That was a lovely tour. I really did enjoy having a few chats with an Italian, our guide Andrea. That was a nice thing to get out of my system - to kind of be, well, connected. And Andrea was warm and wonderful, like a jovial uncle who praises everything effusively. After the tour ended, I walked around the city centre a little bit, and some of the cathedrals. Bologna is nice. I would totally visit again, knowing a local or two. But I'd have to reconsider coming in Summer. Well, a drive to Vernazza tomorrow. Ciao!
----
I spent (in EUR):
160 - Ferrari and food tour
9 - prosciutto
1 - water
2.5 - lighted a candle, and donations
46 - apartment in Bologna
Saturday, August 10, 2019
CCXXIX - Bologna, Martedi, 23 July 2019
I'm not going to lie, today was pretty tiring. Even though I didn't have too many places to actually visit, I was pretty gassed today, especially on the bus back from the Ducati factory. I'm lodged in a sort of converted attic space which leads to a small rooftop, and no kitchen, just a small makeshift pantry. There's an iron circular staircase which leads upstairs, and I've already managed to bump my head on it twice. It's a lovely space, but it's way, way too hot to be out there before nine pm. It's enough to bake, seriously. So I took a nap in between seven pm and nine pm. I generally revile taking naps - it totally ruins the rest of the day; I wake up groggy, a little disoriented, not quite hungry, and a bit restless. But it was what it was, honestly, it was way too hot to be out between when I got back, about three pm, and seven pm.
I took a short train ride in from Verona, and after dropping off the luggage, headed straight out to the Ducati factory and museum. It's an awesome place, it's like a giant, automated warehouse with rows of jigs, workbenches and automated drones. Everybody does a small job for no longer than forty-five minutes, otherwise they start to lose focus. They churn out six hundred bikes a day in the summer, fully tested, and with a zero point eight percent error rate - I'd hate to be the guy who screwed up assembling a bike by forgetting a washer or something. The bikes on display were astounding, fierce, beautiful racing machines. They just look fast, and devastating - and the classics look really cute actually. But when you take the seat of one of the monsters, it just feels radical, the throttle feels different in your hand when you roll it - slick and ready for real action. We saw Casey Stoner's bike, but not Rossi's, and so far, not Lorenzo's. Well, only the champs made it to the showroom, and Rossi never got used to the Ducati. Lorenzo showed promise on the Ducati, but of course, he took his talents to Honda. Well, they had the Kentucky Kid's bike out there. The aerodynamics they were working on, state of the art and all that - it was pretty fantastic. Gigi Dall'Igna, the team boss, was pretty proud of the work they did on those winglets.
Bologna is very much a university town, at least in the summer - they have the University of Bologna not far from the city centre. For quite a stretch between the university and the city centre, there are lots of bars, kebab stores, pizzerias, and the like. In the evening, the youthful crowds mill about, doing their thing, having a drink and a good chat. Up until eleven, it was still pretty warm and stuffy out there, but that didn't dampen the crowds' enthusiasm. It got a little bit rowdy, but on the whole, everybody was quite calm, no excess silliness. I had a dinner tonight at a nearby trattoria, pasta with parmesan, peas and tomatoes, some kind of braised barley with olives, and fried pork mincemeat patties with fried potatoes. It was alright, but not superb, okay for fifteen euro. Well, there were a few locals there. No complaints, but I might try something more obviously crowded next time. The Ferrari and food tour is tomorrow, well, I hope the weather is kind.
----
I spent (in EUR):
20 - train from Verona to Bologna
5 - bus
32 - Ducati tour
22 - store groceries
4 - doner kebab
3 - gelato
15 - trattoria dinner
46 - apartment in Bologna
I took a short train ride in from Verona, and after dropping off the luggage, headed straight out to the Ducati factory and museum. It's an awesome place, it's like a giant, automated warehouse with rows of jigs, workbenches and automated drones. Everybody does a small job for no longer than forty-five minutes, otherwise they start to lose focus. They churn out six hundred bikes a day in the summer, fully tested, and with a zero point eight percent error rate - I'd hate to be the guy who screwed up assembling a bike by forgetting a washer or something. The bikes on display were astounding, fierce, beautiful racing machines. They just look fast, and devastating - and the classics look really cute actually. But when you take the seat of one of the monsters, it just feels radical, the throttle feels different in your hand when you roll it - slick and ready for real action. We saw Casey Stoner's bike, but not Rossi's, and so far, not Lorenzo's. Well, only the champs made it to the showroom, and Rossi never got used to the Ducati. Lorenzo showed promise on the Ducati, but of course, he took his talents to Honda. Well, they had the Kentucky Kid's bike out there. The aerodynamics they were working on, state of the art and all that - it was pretty fantastic. Gigi Dall'Igna, the team boss, was pretty proud of the work they did on those winglets.
Bologna is very much a university town, at least in the summer - they have the University of Bologna not far from the city centre. For quite a stretch between the university and the city centre, there are lots of bars, kebab stores, pizzerias, and the like. In the evening, the youthful crowds mill about, doing their thing, having a drink and a good chat. Up until eleven, it was still pretty warm and stuffy out there, but that didn't dampen the crowds' enthusiasm. It got a little bit rowdy, but on the whole, everybody was quite calm, no excess silliness. I had a dinner tonight at a nearby trattoria, pasta with parmesan, peas and tomatoes, some kind of braised barley with olives, and fried pork mincemeat patties with fried potatoes. It was alright, but not superb, okay for fifteen euro. Well, there were a few locals there. No complaints, but I might try something more obviously crowded next time. The Ferrari and food tour is tomorrow, well, I hope the weather is kind.
----
I spent (in EUR):
20 - train from Verona to Bologna
5 - bus
32 - Ducati tour
22 - store groceries
4 - doner kebab
3 - gelato
15 - trattoria dinner
46 - apartment in Bologna
Friday, August 9, 2019
CCXXVIII - Verona, Lunedi, 22 July 2019
The trains were delayed heading out of Rome and into Firenze today. Thank goodness, by pure fortune, I had nothing on right after the train ride. So, no disaster, I hope my luck holds. Travelling went quite smoothly today, which was good because it was a real stinker of a scorching Monday in Verona. I finally scrounged together the three euro to buy some gelato in Verona, and it was delicious. Grappa and pistachio. In the intensely sweltering heat, the ice cream started running almost immediately. Well, I really enjoyed that. I'll tell you what else I enjoyed - going to the PAM supermarket and getting some sandwiches. Verona is a lovely city. Compared to Rome, it's cleaner, less hustley-bustley, and the buildings are little colour-blocked low-rise flats. It has nice back-streets, relatively well-lit and quiet, which makes for interesting meandering. I stayed slightly farther out, which is quite interesting, a bit like the quieter suburbs.
I'm not really fully convinced that the time has come to open up the wallet for a relatively pricier meal, nor do I think I have the patience to sit down and be fully committed to enjoying the relatively better fare. I'd rather be out there tramping! Luckily, there was not that much to go and see today. The next two days, in Bologna, should be relatively quiet as well. Then the coast - Vernazza, Monterosso, and then back to the museums again in Firenze and Paris, oh dread joys!
Knopfler was absolutely golden. He was in rich, rich form tonight, the last stop on the Europe leg for him on this Down the Road Wherever tour. Great tone and playing all round, it felt good being there. He spent a lot of time talking, actually. The mostly Italian crowd probably didn't get all his words, but they laughed at the wry, self-deprecating humour, and cheered when he said he was considering retirement, but that he loved this too much. I wish he'd played Telegraph Road, cos' I knew he wasn't playing Sultans of Swing, nor Brothers in Arms; but no big deal. He was superb tonight, cheerful, and all the feels came out for me. Romeo and Juliet! and Money for Nothing, and ending with the Geordie tune, Going Home: Theme of the Local Hero. I bade goodbye to Mark, for what felt like a last time, as he waved to the Verona crowd. Goodbye, Mark! I tell you what too, I really like the piano player, Jim Cox, who also played a bit of the accordion tonight.
----
I spent (in EUR):
60 - train from Rome to Verona
4 - bus tickets
8 - sandwiches, coffee and water
3 - gelato
177 - Mark Knopfler, Down the Road Wherever tour
53 - apartment in Verona
I'm not really fully convinced that the time has come to open up the wallet for a relatively pricier meal, nor do I think I have the patience to sit down and be fully committed to enjoying the relatively better fare. I'd rather be out there tramping! Luckily, there was not that much to go and see today. The next two days, in Bologna, should be relatively quiet as well. Then the coast - Vernazza, Monterosso, and then back to the museums again in Firenze and Paris, oh dread joys!
Knopfler was absolutely golden. He was in rich, rich form tonight, the last stop on the Europe leg for him on this Down the Road Wherever tour. Great tone and playing all round, it felt good being there. He spent a lot of time talking, actually. The mostly Italian crowd probably didn't get all his words, but they laughed at the wry, self-deprecating humour, and cheered when he said he was considering retirement, but that he loved this too much. I wish he'd played Telegraph Road, cos' I knew he wasn't playing Sultans of Swing, nor Brothers in Arms; but no big deal. He was superb tonight, cheerful, and all the feels came out for me. Romeo and Juliet! and Money for Nothing, and ending with the Geordie tune, Going Home: Theme of the Local Hero. I bade goodbye to Mark, for what felt like a last time, as he waved to the Verona crowd. Goodbye, Mark! I tell you what too, I really like the piano player, Jim Cox, who also played a bit of the accordion tonight.
----
I spent (in EUR):
60 - train from Rome to Verona
4 - bus tickets
8 - sandwiches, coffee and water
3 - gelato
177 - Mark Knopfler, Down the Road Wherever tour
53 - apartment in Verona
CCXXVII - Rome, Domenica, 21 July 2019
Domenica, the day of the Lord. Rome - what a city. Following the run of the river Tiber north, walls, foundations, arches and brickwork stand out from millenia past. I do not exaggerate; the parts of the Roman ruins still existing were themselves built on the foundations, sealed up in subterranean layers, of even more ancient peoples, the Etruscans, them of the bygone tongues and forgotten faiths. And the classical Roman architecture is absorbed and refashioned into the palaces and lavish buildings of those in power - artists, merchants, bankers, senators, military men, consuls, cardinals, popes and the like. With all the numbers at play, thousands and centuries beyond count, to me it starts to become just another set of numbers to mark off; without historical narrative, without being steeped in the proper context, and time to place it all, it's hard to draw the all important threads of history, of the develop of series of events, of the flows of power and fortune. Well, the narratives that survive were paid for by the once-great houses, and naturally, the artists pay generous homage to their patrons.
Boy, what a city. It's bursting at the historical seams. It's a small shame that its inhabitants don't do something about the trash and traffic, at least during the summer, tourist-filled months, but, what can you do. Perhaps I'm too used to things back home, relatively well-spaced out, regular, cleaned-up. Rome is so historic, but so unkempt. The airport, and the train from the airport to Rome were pretty underwhelming, and it makes a difference in terms of a visitor's impression.
The buses - I did not do well on the buses today. The less that is said about that, the better, I think. I did the Palazzo Barberini, the Galleria Borghese, and the National Gallery of Modern and Contemporary Art. Trust me, three in a day is plenty, and it was a hot time of it as well. Pure, straight summer heart, walking through a nice park around the Borghese as well. Well, having said that, the museums were all wonderful. I felt like Heaven opened a little at the Barberini. All this art from five hundred years ago, it's almost too much to behold. I overheard a little about the Borghese-s being a bunch of dirty, thieving power brokers, which of course, shouldn't surprise anyone. Well, you've got to have wealthy patrons if you want to be a painter, I suppose. I read that Michelangelo was reluctant to re-work St. Peter's Basilica, finish up the designs and all that, because, yeah of course he was busy with all the things people wanted of him, but anyway he decided to work on it out of devotion to his faith. I suppose the whole moral dilemma of choosing your patrons' commissions, bearing in mind their manner of dealings and moral bent, well, one had to be a bit careful.
Thank God I did the relatively difficult one, the Borghese, in between two relatively more relaxed places. The Borghese gives you two hours to visit, and it's a flat out sprint. It's not a very big museum, it's two stories, right, but it's packed full of art - to the extent that they don't have wall space to put placards with the name and description; rather, they have laminated posters on a self-service stand which set out the whole room's works. It's crazy, it just packed wall to wall. And they don't allow picture taking, which is fine, of course; it cuts out the huge crowds holding up space around the famous marble statues. Those were fabulous, by the way, the reclining Venus by Canova, the depression in the bed made by her feet was just fabulous. Not taking photos is great for forcing you to be in the moment, to use the eyes and the brain. So often people just say oh! and take a photo and move on. It's mind boggling to think back on it. I mean, it's so much better in the actual! take your photo, but at least stand there and look at the thing; god! And having to pay attention, I noticed a painting that looked vaguely like it had Mona Lisa's smile, and it turns out it was a copy of a painting by Leonardo da Vinci, Leda and the Swan. The actual painting is lost, but in those days, copies were made by really good artists as well, all the top guys made copies and draughts of each others' work. It had that same-ish engimatic, maternal and mirthful smile; it had "it". Then there were the Caravaggios, the Raphael, all the wonderful, flesh-like marble: flesh and bones, garments, crowns, sceptres and instruments of war, the beautiful arms and torsoes of goddesses and heroines, it made me imagine whether the David is just pretending to be frozen - at night he relaxes the pose, goes over to the room with the Venus and they do their classical lovemaking. How do you sculpt like that? It's impossible - knowing when to hew and when to shave, leaving enough to see the sinews and veins, robes and hair. Sculptors must be crazy in the head, they must dream all day of creating people, of carving men and women out of indelible rock.
I feel like I can do Rome like this, this hard, really only once. I don't think anyone would put their faith in me again if I put them through these paces. I'm not sure I trust my own planning instincts. Still, as long as I'm not feeling grumpy, things are going really well. It's easier being by myself, as long as I'm not grumpy, there's literally nothing else and nobody else to worry about. By Jove, I'm having a great time. Well, ok, that's all for today.
----
I spent (in EUR):
4.50 - bus tickets
14 - Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Antica, Palazzo Barberini
8 - paninis
14 - Galleria Borghese
3 - two postcards, Judith beheads Holofernes, by Caravaggio
10 - Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Moderna E Contemporanea
6 - store groceries
56 - apartment in Trastevere
----
I spent (in EUR):
4.50 - bus tickets
14 - Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Antica, Palazzo Barberini
8 - paninis
14 - Galleria Borghese
3 - two postcards, Judith beheads Holofernes, by Caravaggio
10 - Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Moderna E Contemporanea
6 - store groceries
56 - apartment in Trastevere
Wednesday, August 7, 2019
CCXXVI - Rome, Sabato, 20 July 2019
The Vatican was wonderful, of course, once I had managed to stow my luggage away in their cloakroom. I love museums. I kinda felt that the Vatican Museum's paintings were a little underwhelming - at least in terms of the types of paintings that I generally know and love. These ones today were a little more, well not antiquated, but more renaissance style, more pre-classical. Of course, the Vatican has that whole unimpeachable city-state thing going, its lovely buildings, even some cuneiform script artifacts and Grecian dark pottery in its inventory, which I was so thrilled to see in person for the first time; and it had that wondrous gem of the Sistine Chapel. It's simply astonishing, I don't know, it's unrivaled, the whole Michelangelo thing; it's beautiful, ceiling to ceiling. The latin script of the paintings - it kills me that I can only read little parts of it. I see the word Temptatio, now a painting with Christ standing at the rooftop of a palace, and an old, cloaked man standing next to him, now gesturing towards and the ground beneath them, and it makes sense. Then another portion, the old man points at stones, feed yourself, you Christ! The Sistine Chapel - just to say those words, I feel a sense of awe, reverence, and emotion. I tell you what, though, it gets really tiring staring upwards at a ceiling.
My absolutely favourite was St. Peter's Basilica - it was grandiose; such great halls and ceilings, packed with scenes, figures, saints, angels, demons, all characters. The whole TV ES PETRVS ET SVPER HANC PETRAM, it's so lovely, what a sight. And it was not too crowded, after the whole menagerie of a crowd that was in the Vatican Musems and the Sistine Chapel - I especially liked that. Leaning against a marble wall, considering the whole of the church; yes, it would have been a nice moment to have with a friend.
I'm not going to beat around the bush here - Rome has totally amazingly beautiful women. Just stunning, beautiful women, it's unbelievable. And the men they walk with, effing hillbillies. These are some seriously smoking women.
Well, I've boiled some store-bought ravioli in tomato pasta sauce for dinner today, It was very nice, actually, if a little hastily cooked. Oh and I learnt that the italian word for eggplant is melanzana. Ah, isn't it beautiful. Well, I've got many museums to see tomorrow, and the luggage is now firmly stowed in the apartment. It's going to be a real treat.
----
I spent (in EUR):
1 - train station toilet
8 - train ticket to Trastevere
12 - cab to the Vatican
21 - Vatican Musems and Sistine Chapel
11 - panini sandwich, coffee and water
28 - St Peter's Basilica, including climb to the cupola
10 - cab to Trastevere
25 - supermarket groceries
56 - apartment in Trastevere
CCXXV - Flying out, Venerdi, 19 July 2019
I got up at the exact time of seven fifteen this morning, by myself, which gives you a sense of the kind of day it was going to be. I don't want to say that some days it's a wrestle to get ready and head out, but at least for today, there was a sort of expectancy in the air. At the same time, it's a travel day, and boy, oh boy, I hate travelling. I suppose one can hardly complain when it takes only sixteen hours to step off the plane some ten thousand kilometers away, without having to contend, as in days past, with rocking and swaying below decks, stale food, dank water, leg irons, perhaps, and all that sort of unpleasantness. But anyway. I packed well enough in the carry-on for the flight this time, so it wasn't so bad.
On the flight to Rome; I am excited. There's no mistake about it. At the same time, I feel like it is a little, well, not unseemly, but not quite altogether, a little careless, perhaps, to be too excited right now. In that sense, I am reserving a little level-headedness, a little healthy skepticism about being out here on total holiday; managing the expectations, in a way. Yes, I believe it's going to be beautiful, and I'm going to have a lovely time - but I want to be appreciative, I suppose, rather than exuberant, or absolutely carefree. I'm not sure what I'm driving at. In a sense, I feel that when one travels, being alone almost compels you to be a little more guarded, a little more reserved. In another sense, I feel that I will miss seeing my friend for a short while. We had a cheerful little coffee today, and she was feeling better.
Everything's sort of scheduled, so that's something off my mind. I don't have anything that looks like it could be a concern, so I suppose it's the usual travel caveats and mental precautions. Have to keep the guard up until it's safe-ish. I suppose, on the whole, the thing I'm mostly aiming for is to be relaxed when I'm out here, and I don't think I'll have a sense for it until I get off the plane and all that. The museums and all that sort of sacred places should be marvellous, and hopefully the accommodations will feel homely enough. If those two things are alright, then the rest of it will probably be a bonus. And I am looking forward to Knopfler. I hope of course to be pleasantly surprised by the food, and the weather, and the charms of each city.
I had a little shortlist of two books to bring with me on this trip - Frank Deford and Jorge Luis Borges. The Deford sportswriting is naturally easier on the eye, more charming to read, a little lighter entertainment. Well, as you can imagine, I took Borges. He's, how do you say, he's like Paco de Lucia, Vladimir Horowitz, Titian - he's the best. From the foreword to his Historia Universal de la Infamia (1935):
I spent (in EUR):
329 - flight on Etihad Airways from Singapore to Rome, stopping over in Abu Dhabi
On the flight to Rome; I am excited. There's no mistake about it. At the same time, I feel like it is a little, well, not unseemly, but not quite altogether, a little careless, perhaps, to be too excited right now. In that sense, I am reserving a little level-headedness, a little healthy skepticism about being out here on total holiday; managing the expectations, in a way. Yes, I believe it's going to be beautiful, and I'm going to have a lovely time - but I want to be appreciative, I suppose, rather than exuberant, or absolutely carefree. I'm not sure what I'm driving at. In a sense, I feel that when one travels, being alone almost compels you to be a little more guarded, a little more reserved. In another sense, I feel that I will miss seeing my friend for a short while. We had a cheerful little coffee today, and she was feeling better.
Everything's sort of scheduled, so that's something off my mind. I don't have anything that looks like it could be a concern, so I suppose it's the usual travel caveats and mental precautions. Have to keep the guard up until it's safe-ish. I suppose, on the whole, the thing I'm mostly aiming for is to be relaxed when I'm out here, and I don't think I'll have a sense for it until I get off the plane and all that. The museums and all that sort of sacred places should be marvellous, and hopefully the accommodations will feel homely enough. If those two things are alright, then the rest of it will probably be a bonus. And I am looking forward to Knopfler. I hope of course to be pleasantly surprised by the food, and the weather, and the charms of each city.
I had a little shortlist of two books to bring with me on this trip - Frank Deford and Jorge Luis Borges. The Deford sportswriting is naturally easier on the eye, more charming to read, a little lighter entertainment. Well, as you can imagine, I took Borges. He's, how do you say, he's like Paco de Lucia, Vladimir Horowitz, Titian - he's the best. From the foreword to his Historia Universal de la Infamia (1935):
"The essential characteristic of the universe is its emptiness. They are certainly correct with respect to the tiny part of the universe that is this book."----
I spent (in EUR):
329 - flight on Etihad Airways from Singapore to Rome, stopping over in Abu Dhabi
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)