Aussie Day bbq

Our New Years trip to Bristol contained something of a discovery... an importer of Kangaroo Burgers just outside of town (I could live where these guys are based, its really pretty). Australia day was just around the corner, so what else could a girl do, really, but host an Aussie day bbq with all the expats from work.

Okay, so it was January, and we were just days away from snow (for the first time in 20 years, apparently). And Ants and I have no bbq, so we were indoors, and cooking in a pan. And half our guests turned out to be vego, so more for us, but that meant prawns and a growing range of hot and cold salads were called for.

But Cold Chisel, the Waifs, the Whitlams and the Cat Empire made it onto the stereo, and all the gang who had brought treats back from visits home at Christmas - real twisties, tim tams even minties! It was a bit like a midnight feast out of an Enid Blyton (no, wait - Mary Grant Bruce!) novel. We ate and drank and talked til far too late for a school night and Ants graciously volunteered to do all the washing up the next day.

I'm just getting to know this mob, but I like em all so far :-)

...bikes!!...

It's been on our minds for some weeks to brave Rome's madcap traffic and get ourselves on two wheels. Ideally we want scooters, but Ants lacks the requisite licence, and swears blind he'll never ride behind a girl (not even me), so it's pedal power all the way. We're both after something a bit retro, but not too classy cos it will just get nicked in this part of the world (Rome's rate of bike crime would put even Oxford to shame). So one saturday, armed with some very vague directions from a colleague and accompanied by the intrepid Kate-from-Albury (who has recently arrived in Rome via WFP's operations in China, North Korea and the Philippines... so has serious field cred), we set out one morning on foot...

...and returned on two wheels! Check out these babies... perfect for rattling over cobblestones and sitting tall as we pass Roman cafes bathed in winter sunlight, although with only 6 gears, their ability up a hill is yet to be tested.

They were sold to us by an elderly chap whose shop-in-a-shed in an alleyway of bikesellers halfway up a hill (along with his charming promises of free maintenance) captured our hearts as surely as our new wheels have. And yes, they all match (although Anthony swears his is "completely different" to ours... yeah. right.

And there was an innate sense of freedom as we headed down the road to home, remembering to keep right (most of the time)making up the roadrules as we went along (in Rome, they're not so much rules as guidelines, anyway).

We can't wait for our first freewheeling adventure, although today has been a pretty good start!

Prague!

Our friend Lissy from Oslo has, for the last 3 months, been Lissy from Prague, courtesy of a work placement offered by her company. We left it to nearly the last minute, but we couldn't let her leave without going up to say hello.

We flew Wizz Air, and I would do it again, any time. Punctual, polite and the sort of service you expect to pay a lot more for. And the coolest inflights snacky service - little trays of finger food that make you feel like you're at some kind of sit down cocktail party. Wizz indeed!!

It was nothing compared to our excitement onlanding in Prague, driving through fairytale streets blanketed with snow, catching glimpses of castles and spires, and then seeing Lissy, who had laid on a spread and even found ciders, which were a welcome sight indeed after months in Rome where the pubs serve nothing but Bulmers, Magners and vino. (There's no pleasing some people. In England I bemoaned the lack of decent wine at any price.) Much nattering was had.

Next morning we set out to explore, trudging through icy streets, up the funicular, stopping for a snow fight and hot wine, sliding down paths and laughing at tobogganing kids.

Past churches and pretty streets, up to the castle and down past the absinthe shope and one very brave busker, fiddling in the snow, and off in search of a monster lunch. We found it.

More meandering, more eating and drinking, and then back on Sunday to see the market on the Charles bridge (above, which is gorgeous and charming in its own right), then to explore the castle properly and watch the weather really close in on the way home.

More hot wine, although none of it as warming as seeing our friend happy and at home in Prague, but looking forward to her move back to Norway :-)

Monday we'd taken a long weekend, so we bid Lis a fond farewell, thanked her for being hostess with the mostest and headed out exploring the old fort near her place, complete with statue of Good King Wenceslaus.

There is nothing as beautiful, nor as muffled silent, as a city blanketed in snow.

We left longing to come back and see it all in summer, sad that our friend and tourguide won't be there to share it with us, but excited too about the prospect of a trip to Norway while the sun is shining...

Folky goodness a Roma

We've been looking for them for months, searching countless websites that promised live music every Monday, Thursday or whatever, only to find that they don't, spending some gawdawful evenings in crowded touristy pubs , trying in vain to find "where the good sessions are".

It's taken near half a year, but finally we've found them. Fridays at Cork's Inn, altnerate Fridays at the Druid's Den, monthly at Flann O'Briens and the occasional get together at the Abbey Road Theatre Granted, the tunes are all trad Irish, and cater to a more mainstream set of tastes than the English pieces we've known. But real sessions, packed with Italians who speak badly broken english but sing with accents of pure scots, or soaring lilting Irish. Their fingers fly across fiddles and whistles and their welcome for new musicians like us has been heartwarming. Ants is even starting to swing the occasional offer of a paid gig.

They've proved once and or all that music knows no barriers, reaching out across countries and cultures, hangups and hesitations.

For me, Rome's folkie folks are my first Italian friends in italy, and I suddenly feel more at home.

(ta Marzio for the pic...)

We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year

Where did the last six months go? Our first 'tour of duty' in Italy has flown by, and as Christmas approaches, we find ourselves preparing to head back to Britain for the festive season, armed with tasty treats and adventurous anecdotes, but craving time with familiar faces and traditions.

Looking back at the Pollyanna cascade of posts in this blog, I have to confess it hasn't all been as easy as we might've made it sound (although lets face it, who REALLY wants to read about the hard stuff, or hear us crying poor about the downside of lweekends in Tuscany or Umbria).

Nevertheless, some things ought to be acknowledged.

I am endebted to my husband for bravely following me from a place where he was comfortable and happy to a place where his days have often been quiet, even lonely, and where everything, even daily basics like buying a coffee or tobacco, catching the train or booking a haircut, have required far more effort than normal. Granted, there are benefits, and we've been able to afford things we couldnt have otherwise. But for him, working here hasn't yet proved possible and Rome's smelly, crooked chaos hasn't entirely won him over.

And yet, when I was offered contract for another 5 months (before a mandatory break after 11 months' service), he was the first to say I should take it. Now that's a brave man indeed. I count myself lucky to have won such devotion.

For both of us, Rome at Christmas doesn't quite feel like Christmas. The traditions here are still a mystery to us, and while we love the fact that Christmas decorations don't go anywhere until the first week of December, the absence of mulled wine, christmas markets and other things we've come to associate with a European Christmas, leave us feeling a little flat.

So it was with great excitement that we raided the commissary and various stores for panfortes and other gifts, packed our bags and met up on the train that connects our flat, my office and the airport, bound for Oxford and Witney and our brilliantly generous friends Anya and Simon, whose texts and details of shopping exploits over the past week have left our mouths watering. Cider, mince pies, goose for roasting...

And Christmas doesn't disappoint. From gifts of 'slipper socks' on arrival, to the dressing gowns hanging on our bedroom door, from first cider to last port, and every cheery hug and greeting in between, we have had an amazing time. It's been so good to see friends and realise that six months away is not so very long after all, and that the people who came to mean so much to us in our three years here have indeed become the sort of friends that will stand the tests of time and distance.

All too soon my four days are up and its back to Rome for me for three days, before committing a big ol greenhouse nasty and jetting back to Bristol, where Ants has relocated himself for new year's, and four days punctuated by shopping, a housewarming and lots of hugs.

After six solid months, it's just the pick me up I needed. I'm ready to go back now, and start my second tour, although I know a stack of hard work awaits. But I have an Anthony at my side, and no girl could ask for more.

Here's to a bold and bright 2010... buon anno a tutti, and may all your new years dreams come true!