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Is it too early for a cream tea? Said no one ever. A cream tea is the little sister to the traditional afternoon high tea. Something we are very partial to and a topic I have written about previously.

For the uninitiated, a cream tea involves two warm scones, preferably just from the oven, strawberry jam, and lashings of clotted cream. Now, here is the key point. Clotted cream. Not whipped. Clotted. Cream so thick it could be mistaken for ice cream. And a cream tea is not a cream tea without clotted cream. 

But why am I making such a fuss over the cream that comes with our scones? Because, despite having many, many high teas in Australia, I have yet to find one that does clotted cream. I mean, what is so difficult about clotting cream? In truth, I don’t know. Maybe I should investigate. There has to be some reason that “traditional” high teas in Australia are just not, well, all that traditional.

What is definitely traditional is the part of England called The Cotswolds. Situated about an hour from London, and three hours south of our native Yorkshire, The Cotswolds are deemed an “area of national beauty”. And walking around it is obvious why. Cottages dating back centuries. A pub reputed to be the oldest in England. Rolling green fields, hemmed in by dry stone walls. 

We recently spent a glorious three days exploring The Cotswolds.. And cream teas are something that quaint little tea rooms in The Cotswolds do well. Extremely well. 

With excellent cream teas, and so much history and beauty, I am left scratching my head as to why I have never visited The Cotswolds previously. I spent the first forty years of my life living in England, and saw much of the world. Ten years living in Australia and now I start exploring England. Better late than never. And what better place to start than the historic Barnsley House and Spa. Built in 1697, Barnsley House has been run as a hotel since 2003. 

We had two nights in room 5, up in the eaves of the main building. Carrying our bags up the flights of old wooden stairs, creaking with every step, you immediately start getting a sense of the place. Our room was huge. A vestibule. Large bedroom to the left. And a very impressive bathroom to the right. Complete with a sumptuous free standing bath. I had my afternoon already planned out. 

Downstairs in the hotel is the “Potager” restaurant, a word I later learned is French for “kitchen garden”. And wandering around the garden, I came to see where the name comes from. A garden replete with herbs and vegetables, no doubt destined for the kitchen. We had an excellent dinner in the restaurant, with Mrs C proclaiming that her lamb was the best she has ever had. I have to say, the steak I had was tremendous. 

Breakfast both mornings was also in the restaurant. Imagine my delight when we came down on the first morning and I saw that the menu included a “full English”. If you have ever visited England you will be familar with what a “full English” is. The fact that it is traditionally served with black pudding is an added bonus.  An acquired taste, black pudding is something I love and can’t get a good version of in Australia. Who would have thought something made predominantly with pigs blood could be so hard to come by?

By day three we had departed Barnsley House and checked in to the Wild Thyme and Honey, a boutique hotel in the tiny village of Ampney Crucis. Attached to the excellent Crown pub, we ended up debating whether to cancel our onward plans and stay longer. It really was that delightful. 

And if I thought I had hit the gastronomic highs at Barnsley House, they were just about to go into orbit. Dinner at the Crown pub was a “luxury fish pie” so good I decided that if I ever find myself on death row, which I sincerely hope I don’t, I now have a new “last supper”. Packed with all kinds of creatures from the sea, and a hard boiled egg squeezed in, and topped with Duchess potatoes, this fish pie for one could have fed a family. It fed me, and I just about managed to roll out of the restaurant.

The rolling had changed to walking by the morning and we spent our final hours exploring the tiny village. As with our whole stay in the Cotswolds I was blown away by the houses, the cottages, and the overall look of the area. Never has the word, “wow”, been so overused.

It may have taken me 50 years to finally visit the Cotswolds. I will not be waiting quite so long next time. 

Riding the rails

It has been suggested in some circles that I could give Michael Portillo and his Bradshaw’s guide a run for his money. With all the trains we have taken since leaving Amsterdam, I think they could be on to something. 

The trains in Europe are proving to be highly efficient, reliable, and somewhat expensive. Not the budget travel we expected. That said, we are about to embark on a different way of crossing Europe. More on that further down the track, pardon the pun. 

For today, we wrap up our fabulous few days in Epernay and again head to somewhere that neither of us has been to. And as such, a place we knew very little about. Other than they are famous for mustard. It turns out, there is a lot more to Dijon than its famous condiment. 

Some 3 hours and 25 minutes after leaving Epernay, with two train changes, we rolled into Dijon. Dijon has a population of around 125,000. A population that revels in a city centre that has been shorn of cars, become pedestrianised, and like cities all over the world, re-embraced trams. The city sits in the Burgundy region. The wine buffs amongst you may have just started to take notice, at the mention of Burgundy, one of THE wine regions of the world. 

Much of the architecture in Dijon remains as it was in mediaeval times. Times of the Dukes of Burgundy. Grand hotels (of the French type, which were in fact, large homes), large imposing buildings that now house such treasures of the Museum of Fine Arts, and the obligatory Notre Dame cathedral. It is said that scholars of mediaeval architecture make a pilgrimage to Dijon to study the immaculately kept buildings. I can see why.

The golden glow of Dijon

There is a golden glow to Dijon that is very appealing. From the tiled floor, to the buildings that crowd around the busy squares, packed with bars, and restaurants. As with everywhere we have been in France, regardless of the day of the week, the bars and restaurants are full and bustling. I read a lot about the “cost of living crisis”. A crisis that has not reached these shores, it would seem. Also golden, is one of the icons of the city, the owl that adorns the 13th century church of Notre Dame. Rubbing it with your left hand, we did, is supposed to bring luck. We are still waiting.

Trying out the local bed and breakfasts

For our accommodation, we booked our first Chambres d’Hotes. Bed and breakfasts that proliferate across France. We had three nights in a ground floor apartment of an old mansion. Our double bed was overlooked by a cadre of rather scary looking portraits. I was worried they may come to life at night.

Having fun with the language

Upon arrival at the accommodation, we were greeted by Brigitte. “Bonjour,” said I. “Je m’appelle, Fran.”

“Brigitte,” came the reply, quickly followed by a volley of French. 

“Ah, je ne parle pas français,” I said. 

Brigitte shrugged, and in another volley of French, told me she didn’t speak English. 

What followed was Brigitte checking us in, showing us around the apartment, and giving us lots of information. Nothing about the scary portraits! It was like a hurricane had just blown in. Victoria’s face was a picture. Like a rabbit in the headlights. I picked up a few words here and there. Nodded a lot. And kept saying “Oui”. What I was agreeing to I suppose we will never know. 

When we were alone we just looked at each other, and laughed. What just happened, we asked each other? 

Beaume, the real wine capital of Burgundy

Having three days in Dijon afforded us the opportunity for a day trip, so we jumped on to a train to Beaune. Described as the capital of the Burgundy wine region, (wine buff alert), it was a 30 minutes train ride away. Surrounded by villages producing some of the world’s best wines. Any Marsannay, or Meursault fans out there?

Strolling around the ramparts of the old walls I imagined what it must have been like in the prehistoric times, or as it prospered under the Romans. It probably wouldn’t have looked much different. The well preserved, fortified town is surrounded by hills that have vines clinging to them. The small town is a wonder of old cobbled streets and many squares that make a perfect place for lunch and a glass of that famous Burgundy wine.

Leaving for Lyon

Dijon and the Burgundy region proved to be a really enjoyable stay. One of our favourites so far. But like all travellers, we had to keep moving. We were heading south to Lyon. Somewhere I only knew about through the local football team, Olympique Lyonnais playing in the Champions League. 

Discovering old Lyon

And yes, there is a lot more to Lyon than their football team. We based ourselves in the presqu’ile area. The peninsular between the two rivers of the Saône and the Rhône. We had two great days that were spent exploring the city and getting lost in the old, narrow cobbled streets of Vieux Lyon, the old town. Of particular interest were the murals that Lyon has become famous for. We visited two of the most popular ones and were both blown away by how impressive they are.

Riding the funicular up Fourviere

Not far from the murals, holding a commanding position on the Fourviere hill high above Lyon is the, you guessed it, Notre Dame cathedral. One of the most impressive we have seen. Described as a wedding cake, it perches at the end of the funicular line from the old town. Wandering down the hill from the cathedral we stumbled across the Gallo-Roman ruins. Sat proudly in the centre is the amphitheatre, one of the oldest in all of Gaul. 

Time to head back to the station

Roman ruins. One of the best Notre Dames we have seen. And pizzas to rival the best of Naples were still not enough to put the brakes on our travels. As the third day dawned, we again packed up our bags, and headed to the train station. Not a station that would impress Michael Portillo but we were here for the 10.36am train to Avignon, and onwards to the Provence region.

Until the next time, santé

New country, new travel experience

When we last spoke it was all about what a great time we had touring France and how we needed to keep moving. Not only to a new city, but to a new country. 

For today, we ditched the Bradshaw’s train guide and were experimenting with our first bus of the trip. Only recently have I discovered Flixbus. And within days of learning about them I started to see them everywhere. 

Today, we were on the 9.30am Flixbus from Bordeaux, across the Bidasoa river, which is the France-Spain border, and into San Sebastián. 

San Sebastian

There are places in the world I have always wanted to visit. At least, for as long as I remember. The feeling I had when I sat in front of the Lost City of the Incas at Machu Picchu was indescribable. I’d seen the vista on postcards for years and yearned to visit. 

San Sebastián was similar, for me. In the heart of the Basque country, with their fascinating language of incongruous X and Ts. There is also a strong Camino de Santiago connection. 

We stayed in a pension, which is a cheap guest house style of accommodation and we could not have asked for a better location. A short walk around the corner from the glorious playa de la concha, the famous stretch of beach that hugs the San Sebastian harbour. A 10 minute stroll had us in the old town, with its plethora of pinxtos bars. I would have loved a kettle to make my morning coffee, and a fridge to keep beer cold, but, you get what you pay for. 

Pinxtos (peen-chos)

The pinxtos bars need to be seen to be believed. Packed to the rafters. Most with nowhere to sit. The idea is you hustle at the bar, with the locals, pointing to the pinxtos that you want to go with your drink. Somehow, like magic, the bar staff know what you ordered when you finally come around to pay. Always at the end. And not when you order the drink, unless you want to stand out like the tourist you are.

On the surface, you may think that tapas is all you can get in San Sebastian. Far from it. I was surprised to learn that San Sebatian has more Michelin starred restaurants per square mile than anywhere else on the planet. 

A town with everything. Great beaches. Good walks. Amazing food and drink. And a local football team. This could be one of my new favourite parts of the world.

On the bus to Bilbao

Staying in the Basque country, our next stop was a quick bus ride along the coast, to Bilbao. For many years a forgotten city, lapsing into disrepair as old jobs disappeared, there was a lifeline 25 years ago. The city had the foresight to pay for a new Guggenheim museum to be built near the old docks. Creating a “destination attraction” in a similar way that the Opera House is in Sydney. And it worked. Dubbed the “Bilbao effect”, Frank Gehry’s masterpiece glistens on the Bilbao waterfront, attracting a steady 1 million visitors a year.

You won’t be surprised to hear that there is also a great food and drink scene in Bilbao. As we were still in the Basque region, we were eating pinxtos, and not tapas. The Basque region is one of those places that proudly holds onto its culture and heritage. Ensuring that the Basque language remains front and centre, everything is in both Basque, as the predominant language, and Spanish.

Heading to the Spanish capital

And it was into the Spanish heartland we were headed after our 5 days in the Basque region. Back on the bus, we had a 4 and half hour journey to Madrid ahead of us. We stocked up on pain au chocolats and water and we were off.

After San Sebastian and Bilbao, Madrid felt huge. A big, bustling city. We had 3 nights to adjust back to city life. And what better way to feel the pulse of a city than by attending a local football match. Saturday night saw us travelling out to the Wanda Metropolitana stadium to see Atletico Madrid take on Celta Vigo. 

I really enjoy going to football matches in overseas countries. Seeing how fans in different parts of the world celebrate their football team. The Atletico fans were vociferous. All through the match they maintained a great atmosphere. That the game ended with a 4:1 win obviously helped. 

After years of living in Australia I did find it strange that you could not buy beer inside the ground. Watching games at home in Australia we are used to getting a pint each and taking them to our seats to watch the action. Beers would come later, but not tonight. A 9pm kick off meant we were not back at the hotel until midnight. 

Our days in Madrid were spent strolling through the magnificent Retiro park, Madrid’s Central Park. Exploring the streets that sprawl off the main hubs of Plaza Mayor, Puerta del Sol, Plaza Santa Ana, and others. Mercado de San Miguel is one of the great markets that we have found whilst on our travels through Europe. Opening its doors over 100 years ago, the market is now a gastronomic delight. Selling, overpriced, Spanish delicacies and drinks. Sating the appetite of many hungry tourists.

We are wily travellers, and so we decamped to the Museo del Jamon, where we could stand at the bar, have a jamon sandwich, and a beer, for a fraction of the cost charged in the Mercado de San Miguel. Money saved at lunch can be spent at dinner. One of the challenges of adapting to being a traveller, rather than a tourist, is constantly being aware that our travel budget has to fund months of further travel.

The Alhambra (no, not in Bradford)

And the road was calling us again. An early start had us heading to the outskirts of Madrid, to one of the huge bus stations, and we were on the way to Granada, a place that was not in our minds originally. Sketching rough places to go, we were headed for Seville, until we remembered (or were we were alerted?) to the fact that we could go via Granada and visit the Alhambra.

How glad we are we came and saw this magnificent palace. Described as “one of the most famous monuments of Islamic architecture”, we had a good few hours touring the palace and fortress complex. Started in 1238, many years, history, and conflict have passed and I would recommend having a read of the history. I would not do it justice here in a brief travel blog.

Granada

Granada surprised me in the way that Dijon, in France, did. I was immediately taken to the city with its narrow streets and cobbled lanes that house souk style markets. Albacin, to the north of the Alhambra still maintains much of its medieval street plan and is fun just to walk around, capturing the distinctive sights and smells.

On one such walk we stumbled across the Basilica de San Juan de Dios. Oh, my. Never has the inside of a church taken my breath away quite so much. A picture won’t do it justice but I will forever remember the moment I set eyes on it.

We also struck lucky with our accommodation, staying right in the heart of the city. Our two nights were in a new style of apartment accommodation for Spain. With a digital app on your phone that becomes the key to enter the apartment, and no physical presence, they are able to keep costs down and we had probably our cheapest stay yet.

Having a beer we were introduced to the “free tapa” system, of which Granada is the heart of. Each time you order a beer, you get a free tapa. Of the waiter’s choice. When you order a second drink, the same thing happens, only the tapa increases in quality. If you find yourself making a night of it, on the beer, you won’t need to buy dinner. A very popular choice with the city’s large student population, I’m sure.

Where the streets are lined with orange trees

Mention marmalade and many people’s minds will turn to Seville. Unfortunately, the oranges on the trees right now are more green than orange, But this does not take away from the beauty of the city. Seville was our next stop after Granada. And we were here for more than marmalade.

It would be a crime, in my opinion, to visit Spain and not indulge in churros con chocolate. I believe we found the best in Seville. Bar el Comercio starts selling piping hot churros from seven thirty in the morning. We were there a little later than that and still they were creating these hot, fluffy pieces of churros heaven. The thick chocolate to dip them in would be good as a drink all by itself.

We are going to miss Spain

Seville is a whole lot more than churros and marmalade. And we saw a lot of it. From the very impressive Plaza de Espana, to the equally impressive Real Palace de Alcazar. As with all our days in Spain, we have been blown away by the beauty this country has to offer. Friendly locals, fantastic food, I will be genuinely sad leaving. Whilst travelling through I have also had a great opportunity to brush up on my rusty Spanish language skills. Whilst very, very far from fluent, I have been pleased to get by, trying to avoid speaking English at every opportunity.

We now head into Portugal, first stop, Lisbon. I better work out how to say, “two beers, please.”

Adios, chicos.

Up first, Lisbon

Reflecting on our Spanish adventure, it was a great few weeks. However, we needed to keep moving. Nomadic lifestyles don’t lend well to staying too long in one place. 

And so, after a super stay in Seville, we were headed to country number nine of our travels. And, in big travel news, we were taking an aeroplane for the first time since leaving the UK. We would still be in the Schengen region, as for all our trip so far in mainland Europe, there will be no customs procedures to navigate. Just disembark, grab your bags, and wander off to explore. I had frequently learned of a quirk of the Schengen region. The 90/180 day rule, but more on that in a later blog.

The ease of travelling by rail and bus

There is a great ease, and pleasure in just rocking up to a train or bus station minutes before your departure, stowing your bag, and taking your seat. I wasn’t looking forward to the rigmarole of the airport. The early arrival for bag drop. The hassle of security. Do we still take shoes off? What about belts? Oh, I can leave my electronics in the bag? When did this change? And the interminable waiting around to board. 

Seville airport at 6am was very civilised. A smooth and quick check in. A breeze through security. And an on time departure. Some one hour later, confusingly landing at the same time we took off, we had wheels down in Lisbon, Portugal. On the same time zone as the UK we had to turn our clocks back an hour. 

Lisbon

With an estimated population of just over half a million, Lisbon is the largest city, and the capital of Portugal. Situated by the Tagus river, in the south of the country, it has a storied history. One of the oldest cities in the world, Lisbon is also the second oldest European capital. Athens holds first place.

We spent four nights exploring all of what Lisbon has to offer. Which is a lot. The centre naturally draws you down to the waterfront. The huge Praço do Comércio is entered through Arco da Rua Augusta. A triumphal archway leading you into the large city square on the edge of the water. From here you can glance right and see the “25th April” bridge, mirroring the Golden Gate bridge in San Francisco, even down to the exact same colour of paint it is covered in.

The famous tram 28

Heading back into the main town we jumped on the, now famous, tram 28. Still a working tram, taking locals to work and back, it has turned into one of the “must do” items on every Lisbon travellers list. The tram rumbles up through Alfama, trundling up the surprisingly hilly Lisbon, before descending back through town, and up to the neighbourhood of Barrio Alto. It is easy to see why tourists jump on the 28 and sit there, taking in much of Lisbon. 

We spent a day on the waterfront, exploring sights such as the Belem tower, the Monument to Discovery, and the Jeronimos Monastery. All before heading back to the very, very popular Time Out market. 

Marketing the markets

Much like a lot of similar markets we have seen in Europe, this is another that has been refurbished with all eyes on the tourist Euro. Locals have been priced out of these markets, sadly, as prices for beer, wine, and food are hiked well above what you expect to pay elsewhere. The market is impressive, but I left with a feeling of sadness that most people were there because they thought they “had” to visit as they had read it in a guidebook. I may sound cynical, but, this is just me, and how I feel.

Dinner off the beaten track

I prefer to eat in places where the locals eat, and this is where we found ourselves, not too far from the hotel we were staying in. Up a hill, into a local neighbourhood, we found 21 Gallas craft beer pub. A rotating tap list of 10 beers allowed for plenty of choice as we had a couple of pre-dinner drinks.

Dinner itself was a little further up the hill, in a little pizza place we found. Located in a small square, next to a bar hosting a music night, we sat and had a fabulous pizza. I also spotted a dish going out that looked like halloumi. After enquiring what it was, we ordered a portion. Brazillian cheese, grilled. Delicious.

Beaches in Lisbon

What you may not know about Lisbon is that despite being a large city, there are some excellent beaches on its doorstep. Deciding we needed some downtime after traipsing the length and breadth of Lisbon, we gave ourselves a “beach day”, heading out to Carcavelos beach. Some 30 minutes by train from Lisbon, this is a very popular beach with the locals. We had a glorious day, our towels, and our books. With food and drink options nearby we spent a very enjoyable day soaking up the sun.

In all, we had some fabulous food in Lisbon. From the octopus stew in a cataplano on the first night, to the curry that we traditionally have, everywhere we go in the world. We have had some very good ones, and Victoria declared this one as the best she has ever had. Quite a bold statement from such a curry lover.

Sintra

Day four in Lisbon saw us back at the train station, this time Rossio, as we headed out to Sintra. Classified a UNESCO World Heritage site, Sintra has to be seen to be believed. Fairytale castles dot the hills surrounding the small town. Lord Byron described it as “glorious Eden”, being just one of many visitors over the centuries to be taken in by Sintra’s charms.

Archaeological finds date Sintra back to the 5th millennium BC, but the devastating Lisbon earthquake of 1755 resulted in much of Sintra being destroyed, and subsequently rebuilt. The earthquake is something that I knew nothing of and learned that it destroyed almost the whole of Lisbon. There are estimates of 30,000 to 40,000 lives lost.

Sintra bounced back and in modern times is a place that draws in thousands of tourists a year, drawn to the palaces and castles that adorn many a postcard. It is a place I would highly recommend that you spend a few hours exploring.

And we head to Porto

Our exploring of Lisbon was done and we jumped on the metro to Gare Oriente, for our 9.30am bus to Porto, in the north of the country. Porto has been on my travel wish list for some time and I was very happy, boarding the bus, knowing that within 3 hours I would be there. Porto would bring up bed number 34 since we left home in Perth.

Who knew bed 34 would be so difficult to get to? A cursory glance on Google maps showed us where our apartment was. From the metro station, it looked like a short walk. What Google does not show you is that the “short walk” was up some very steep hills. Why did nobody warn us how hilly Porto is? Imagine how happy I was when we finally made it, only to discover our apartment was up a flight of stairs! Good grief, we were a hot and sweaty mess as we met Pedro at the apartment to check in. 

Time to explore

Bags dropped off, and cooled down a little, it was time to explore Porto. I could pretend that there were many sights I wanted to see, in no particular order, but who was I kidding? I was here for the port, and the many port cellars that proliferate around the Douro river. And it wasn’t long before I sat down, with my first tasting.

Porto, sitting on the Douro river, is known as the city of bridges, and a stroll along the water allows you to see why. The most impressive, in my opinion, is the Dom Luís I Bridge, designed by Teophile Seyrig, a former partner of Gustave Eiffel, of whom we all know. Should you be a bridge fanatic, I aren’t, you can do a river cruise, taking in all six of them.

What exactly is a Franceshina?

I was on the hunt for something else. Lunchtime was approaching and only the day before had I read of Porto’s most famous dish. A Franceshina. What exactly is a Franceshina? Well, I have now had one and still am not totally sure. It was invented by a Portuguese by the name of Daniel Silva, whilst he was living in France. Supposedly, inspired by the croque monsieur. Hmm. It is a sandwich of white loaf bread, beef, ham, sausage and cheese. It is topped off with an egg, and then it is all drenched, literally, in a strange sauce, of which it seems no one is really sure what it is. 

Most menus describe it as a beer sauce, and it is supposedly made up of beer and tomatoes as a base. Where it gets interesting for me is that each chef maintains the “secret” of their sauce, and so, it is unique from place to place. Now I knew of this famous sandwich, I saw it everywhere, I just had to try it. And the verdict? Tasty. It filled me. But that sauce? I am just not sure I would want it every day.

Pastel de Nata

What we did have every day in Portugal, and sometimes twice, were the pastel de natas. Known outside Portugal as Portuguese tarts, these mini egg custards are addictive. Even more so when they are just out of the oven. Bite size pieces of heaven. I could probably fit a whole one in my mouth, but they are best savoured, with many mini bites.

Very popular in Porto is also the “Portuguese Experience”. I had seen these in Lisbon and just had to try one. A cod fishcake, made with local cheese, and a cold white port. Oh yes, I could get used to these. If only they weren’t so expensive.

With all this food it is a good job that we are keeping up with our exercise. Exploring cities is hard work, and we often go to bed having completed more than double the recommended step count. Walking around Porto gives you the added exercise of climbing hills, getting the heart rate pumping, and making that first glass of wine taste even better.

Where to after Porto?

Porto was to be our last stop in Portugal. We had somewhere to be that had been high on the “priority list” of places to visit whilst we were away. However, we couldn’t get there directly from Porto so we will be having a mini break, back in the country we had previously just left. The mandatory masks may provide a clue. Such is the travel life, always adapting.

Ciao, and hasta luego.

Revisiting Italy

Whilst our time in Athens had been a pleasant surprise, with the vibrancy, and cheap cost of living, with Italy, we knew what we were getting. Long a favourite of ours, Italy is a country that we have previously explored at length. I will have blogged about it somewhere, I’m sure.

Heading out of Athens there was only one place to start. The Eternal City. Flying into Rome, and transferring to the Termini railway station I immediately felt a sense of calm. Rome is a city that I have explored many times and I never fail to tire of her beauty. Around every corner is something new to stop you in your tracks. Make you pause. And consider the history, and the people that have come before you.

Rome wasn’t visited in a day

Talking of people, Rome was busier than I have ever seen it. True, you may think this of everywhere you go, but this time it was very noticeable. One of my favourite places in Rome to quietly spend a little time is in the Pantheon. Stood in the middle of the vast structure, and staring up through the circular hole, to the sky. With each previous visit I have just wandered in, and around, and taken my time.

When we got there this time, there were long queues, snaking around and around, just like you see when you arrive at passport control in Manchester. No longer were we able to just stroll in and take a quiet moment. We had thought we were travelling in what used to be known as the “shoulder season”. Coupled with the cost of living crisis I keep reading about in the UK and European news, I hadn’t expected such huge numbers of tourists.

Experiencing life through a lens

Things were just as bad at the Trevi fountain. Always a popular spot, never have I been there when you physically struggle to even make your way from one side of the fountain to the other. And the rather sad thing was that most people weren’t even looking at the fountain. They were looking into their phone, on selfie mode, trying to get the perfect picture. Are the days gone where people can just visit somewhere and enjoy it for what it is? As we travel around the world, the great sights are becoming less like places of pilgrimage, and more like Disneyland. Sigh.

Yes, I realise the irony of having a selfie above the last paragraph 🙂

Give me carbonara, please!

One thing that lifts my spirits, when I visit Rome, is the thought of getting Roman carbonara. Around the world there are few dishes as ruined as the humble spaghetti carbonara. Bacon. Cream. What?! Talk about ways to spoil one of the world’s great dishes. But, here in Rome, I know I am getting what I expect. A dish made only of spaghetti, eggs, pecorino romano, guincale, and black pepper. I am getting hungry even writing about it. I could eat pasta every day, and I could eat Roman carbonara twice a day.

Leaning into Pisa

For the sake of my waistline, we needed to move on from Rome after a couple of days. We were back to Termini train station, and heading for a 4 hour journey to Pisa, famous for perhaps the most photographed tower in history. And like everyone else, we did our best to keep it upstanding. Strolling through the Piazza dei Miracoli never have I seen such imaginative photos being taken. The tower being held up. Being pushed over. The tower coming out of ice cream cones. Out of backpacks. You name it, all day there is someone trying it.

Our accommodation in Pisa was only a 10 minute walk from the Leaning Tower of Pisa. A great bed and breakfast in an old building in the Santa Maria district of Pisa. Pisa itself is always associated with the tower, and less seen on photos are the buildings that share the Piazza with it. The Battista is stunning, as is the cathedral. But, people can’t seem to focus their lenses on anything but the famous leaning tower.

My focus was on a restaurant I had seen earlier in the day. Advertising itself as a Roman restaurant, specialising in carbonara, of all things. Guess where we went for dinner that night. And the menu was very simple. Spaghetti carbonara, or Carbonara Imperial, which is double egg and double guanciale. Very simple and very tasty. 

Cash preferred

When it came to paying it turned out there was a “problem with the card machine”, and would I mind paying cash? Without any cash on us, the waiter walked with me to where the nearest ATM was. On the way he was chatting, explaining the “tax is very high” in Italy and cash is better. Ah, I was now beginng to understand why the card machine wasn’t working. That said, the waiter was exteremly freindly, and only charged us 30 euros for dinner, knocking 3 euros off for the “inconvenience”. 

Far from inconvenient, train travel through Italy is fast, reliable, and very efficient. After a couple of days exploring Pisa, and more importantly, having a laundry day, we were setting off to Florence. A favourite city of ours (we could say that about much of Italy), we had a journey of less than an hour, bringing us into Santa Maria Novella train station. From there a short walk had us at our hotel in the city centre.

If it is Florence, it has to be Bistecca alla Fiorentina

If you have been to Florence you will understand why people flock to it every year. It has been 5 years since we were last here and these cities being what they are, centuries old, you soon get your bearings back. With the Duomo dominating the centre, and streets leading down to the River Arno, everything is accessible on foot. One of Mrs C’s favourite spots in the city is Piazza della Signoria, where she can marvel at the replica statue of David.

Last time we were here a recommendation from the AirBnB host had us having our first Bistecca alla Fiorentina at a local trattoria. And yes, we went back this time. Without a reservation, we were queued at the doors, ready for the 7pm opening. Easy we thought. Not so. We were told that the restaurant was full, unless we could eat, and finish within the hour. Absolutely, I said. I don’t feel Victoria was quite as enthusiastic, yet when the steak arrived, a smile crept onto her face. Just like the first time we visited, we were plied with limoncello at the end of the meal, even being “forced” to have one for the road with the staff.

Towering above Tuscany

One place that has been on our list for a long time, having missed the opportunity a few years ago, is the famed town of San Gimignano. Known for the many towers that loom over the Tuscan countryside, we were only a short train ride, and then a bus from San Gimignano so we made our way there.

Back in the 12th century, monied landowners would build towers to display how wealthy they were. It became a competition. A medieval “keeping up with the Jones”. Now, there are a lot fewer than the orignal 72 towers left yet San Gimignano remains a draw for the thousands of toursits that visit every year. We ambled through the old centre and had a great pasta lunch (not carbonara this time) with a glass of wine, keeping away from the biting wind as much as feeding our appetites.

Magnificent Milan

Our last stop in Italy was again to be somewhere we have spent time and thoroughly enjoy. Arriving into Central Station in Milan, I had one thing on my mind. Risotto Milanese. Each region in Italy is renowned for a certain cuisine, (did I mention carbonara in Rome?), and in the north, in Lombardy, risotto is king. Although, I wouldn’t get this dish until tomorrow, our last night in Italy.

The first day was all about re-exploring Milan. The hugely impressive Duomo. The exquisite Gallerie Emmanuel. The Castle Sforzi and the surrounding parks. The elegant cobbled streets of Brera. Meandering through Milan I couldn’t help but notice a distinct change in temperature. The colours in the parks were autumnal, but the temperatures were wintry. We were now having to dig out the few winter clothes we had packed back in June when we left Australia. I was very glad to have my woolly hat to keep the morning chill off my ears.

Our apartment was like the one in Athens, in that it was located in a large, nondescript looking residential apartment block. It was in a great location, just a 10 minute walk from the Duomo, and nearby there were a number of supermarkets, a traveller’s best friend. Each morning we were able to pick up a couple of pain au chocolats and a coffee, all for under 5 euros. A perfect way to start the day.

The day, and sadly, our trip through Italy, was coming to an end. We finished at a cosy restaurant not far from the hotel and the canals of Milan. I had Risotto Milanese with osso bucco and Victoria had the pan fried Risotto Milanese, a way of cooking this northern Italian dish that I hadn’t seen before. We toasted another great country and we looked ahead to what were sure to be, colder days in country number 14.

Entering country number 15

As we left Switzerland by train, crossing the border, (such a scenic train ride), we entered the 15th country of our travels. We took a moment to reflect on the last 6 months. Leaving Perth back in June seems like a very long time ago. We left Australia in winter, spent the summer touring through the UK and now, winter rolls around again. The northern hemisphere version. A much colder version than we are used to at home. 

The year so far has been an exploration and the exploring continues in Austria. This is the first time either of us have visited Austria. We started in Innsbruck and would end in Vienna. From that point our plans dry up. Post Vienna we didn’t know where the road would take us. As it turned out, it wasn’t a road, but more on that in a later blog.

A cold xmas

Back in the height of the UK summer, and yes, this year was a great summer, we romanticised about a cold xmas. The first for 10 years. It is fair to say that I have acclimated to the Australian weather, and a slight drop in temperature sends me searching for my jumpers. Sat in Yorkshire, in August, in a t-shirt, did I ever think we would really stay around as the cold weather set in?

And yet, there we were. Walking from the train station at Innsbruck to our hotel. Woolly hats kept our head and ears warm. Our destination was the Marktbar Studios, sitting on the banks of the river Inn. We had great views across the river, and the nearby snow capped mountains. 

A winter wonderland 

The next day saw us going to the very top of one of those mountains. The highest. A funicular, followed by two cable car rides had us at the “Top of Innsbruck”. Where it was actually snowing. And -6°. Holy moly. We walked in deep snow. I made snowballs. A Japanese tourist nearby was enthusiastically making snow angels, imploring her partner to video her. She was very excited. And rightly so. This was a real winter wonderland. 

At -6 degrees there was only so long we could have a snowball fight for, and so, we headed inside to the cafe for a warming glühwein. Checking our mental “cost of living indicator” we were pleased to see that prices had dropped significantly from Switzerland. So much so that I could even afford a hearty slice of apple strudel. Living the dream.

Hiccups on the rails

Travel has a funny way of throwing you challenges. And bringing the dream to a halt. A snap 24 hour train strike across the whole of Austria put paid to our plan of leaving Innsbruck. We had to scramble to create a plan B. Thankfully, the apartment we were in was free so we booked a second night in this wonderful city. The downside was we couldn’t amend our onward hotel in Salzburg so would end up being there two nights, rather than three. 

The extra day allowed for more exploring of the Christmas markets. If Zurich set the bar high for Xmas markets, Innsbruck raised it. Set up all around this small town the Austrians had gone all out. So festive. Fabulous lights. So many market stalls. And so much glühwein. Obviously.  We even bought our very own mug that will hopefully make it all the way back to Australia with us.

Salzburg

How would the home of Mozart compare? Our next stop in Austria was Salzburg. A city that is overseen by the very impressive fortress. Hohensalzburg Fortress started in the year 1077, and added to over the years, it now welcomes over a million tourists every year. On a clear day, looking across the German border you could probably pick out Eagles Nest. 

Eagles Nest

Inaugurated in 1939 by Hitler, for his 50th birthday, Eagles Nest is now firmly on the “Dark Tourism” trail. Places around the world that have become infamous, drawing the curious traveller. It was used as an Allied command centre until 1960, at which point it was handed back to the state of Bavaria. It now operates as a restaurant and beer garden

Back in the centre of Salzburg, we visited Mozartplatz, dominated by a large ice rink. My first, and only experience on the ice was at the rink set up in winter at Bondi Beach. Based on how well I did that day I chose to give the rink a miss and headed inside for a delicious hot chocolate, laced with a shot of rum. 

Graz

Looking at a map of Austria, considering where to go, en route to Vienna, we landed on Graz. A city of less than 300,000, it is less known for tourism than some of the places we had been. So, we got all the best of a European winter, the Xmas markets and festive lights, without the mass tourism that plagues many cities in Europe. 

Arriving on a cold, wet evening once again we were impressed by the infrastructure these European cities have. Off the train and mere steps to the connecting tram that whisked us through the old town and close to our hotel. Our mission was to dry off and find somewhere warm for a schnitzel dinner.

Graz proved to be an inspired choice for a couple of days. The Xmas markets were excellent. The weather was dry, and bitingly cold. And we felt as though we were seeing a slice of authentic Austrian life. 

Vienna

Why couldn’t I talk about Vienna without serenading Victoria to “Oh, Vienna”?  I’m sure it got very tiresome. Very quick. What didn’t get tiresome was exploring the historic centre of Vienna. A city we had both been very excited to visit. It was Vienna that initially gave us the idea of visiting the Xmas markets all those months ago. If the stars had aligned a little better we would have even been able to meet up with my oldest friend. Next time, mate?

But those markets. Oh my word. Vienna is the place to be for Xmas markets. From the ones in Maria-Theresien-Platz, to across the road at Rathausplatz, and to the cute little ones hugging the side streets in Spittelberg. It won’t surprise you that the count of Xmas decorations that Victoria has bought increased through our stay in Vienna. With the markets comes a lot of choice for food. I just loved this beef goulash served in a bread bowl. Delicious.

Mooching through Vienna reminded me of strolling the streets of Rome. Buildings on a vast scale. So many of them. Most from the Austro Hungarian empire you can only stop and stare. Vienna really lived up to any and all expectations we had. Over a final gluhwein we discussed where we should head next. Our European adventure looked to be drawing to a close. 

The question was, where would we be tomorrow?