Jelly legs.

Last night we set the smoke alarm off in our apartment. It was quite a surprise, as we think this is the first place we’ve stayed in that actually had one fitted. As the screeching beast drew our attention to the charred steak on the stovetop, we frantically waved tea towels (in the fashion of my dear mother) at it, opened the doors and windows and tried our darndest to placate it. Nothing seemed to be working.

As it continued bleating, panic set in. We are staying in Atrani, a minute (possibly Italy’s smallest) village perched on a cliff top in the Bay of Salerno (Amalfi Coast) and I’m sure the wailing monster could be heard as far away as Naples. We wondered whether it needed to be reset by the fire brigade or perhaps it was malfunctioning.

Almost defeated, I turned the aircon on while Mick prodded it with broom handle. Then as we turned to each other, looks of exasperation spread across our faces, me on the verge of tears (lie), it stopped. Just like that. If not for the buzz of the air conditioner, the hum of the range-hood and the gale force ocean winds battering our worldly possessions around the apartment, I’m sure a sense of calm serenity would have washed across us.

As I mentioned earlier, we are staying in Atrani on the Amalfi Coast. A spectacular coastline where mountains, ravines, lemon orchards, white washed towns and terraced vineyards all meet black pebbled beaches and the inkiest blue ocean I’ve ever seen.

Our research prior to arriving was minimal and although Mick has proven himself a very capable driver we were not at all prepared for the hair-raising drive along the coast road. It follows the curve of the coast and is two lanes wide. Not Australian lanes, small Italian lanes, which to my eye appear about 70% of what we are used to. Adding to this, people park their cars all along the road, in the curves, lengthways, sideways or anyway that fits; making a tight squeeze even tighter. If you are ever offered a free upgrade for a hire car in Europe- politely say “No thank you, that is unless it comes with a complimentary prescription of Valium”.

Our knuckle-whitening experience went like this. We turned a corner and saw a coach stopped in an upcoming bend. It seemed to be parked, as all of the cars on our side of the road were driving past it. As we got nearer, the space between it and the opposite cliff face shrunk before our very eyes. It seemed impossibly small for our luxuriously sized Citroën C5 Exclusive (Thank-you very much!). So much so, that I pointed out the obvious to Mick “Babe, we ain’t gonna fit through”.

By this time we were blocked in, the coach on our left (it was now painfully obvious that she wasn’t parked, she was stuck), a queue of cars behind us and a merciless looking stone wall out the passenger side. Even after folding in the side mirrors the space was still gut wrenchingly tight. I was envisaging a gaping tear down my side of the car, much like when the iceberg hit or when an alien, in an alien movie decides it’s high time he meets his prey.

We got through, like Destiny’s Child we survived. We didn’t give up. At one point, my side of the car was so close to the cliff my hand could not have squeezed through the gap. Fo’ realsies. A saintly ambulance driver (one of the growing audience) helped guide us through, millimetre by millimetre. We only started breathing again once we were well past the growing line of traffic on the other side. I wonder what became of the coach.

There are a lot of stairs here. That’s why this blog is called jelly legs.

Peace out.

Tainted love.

I am sure that we are sleeping on the hardest bed in Tuscany. It feels like stone bedrock covered with a sheet. For the last six nights we have woken up, time and time again throughout the night with achey limbs and clickey joints. This bed is essentially an old age virtual reality synthesiser.

Now I don’t want to whinge too much, but the bed has tainted our week in Tuscany. When I asked Michael what he thought I should blog about, he yawned. I yawned back. We just aren’t getting enough kip.

We thought we’d found a solution to my travel sickness on Wednesday. I would take the wheel. I was naively convinced that it couldn’t be all that difficult.

I only hit one thing.

Just a car; side mirror to side mirror, no damage done (to our car, I was too traumatised to stop) but I still hear Mick’s voice sometimes... “you’re too close, too close! TOO CLOSE!!!” *THUNK*

At least it wasn’t a puppy, right?

So, yes we are in Tuscany, staying in an otherwise lovely villa just outside of Chianti. The region is home to dirt roads, terracotta sunsets, Florence, loud Americans on vaca and a vast and mouth-watering selection of local food and wine specialities.

One of these I experienced last night. Out to dinner in Siena, I ordered Papardelle con Tartufo (it’s white truffle season FYI). As the dish was served Mick and I locked eyes and exchanged a “wow that’s a whole lot of truffle” look. Then the waiter returned to the table, at first we thought he had a parmesan grater but he proceeded to micro-plane sliver after sliver of whole fresh truffle over the already monumental pile. We had to stifle our smuggles (smug giggles) as we guestimated what the dish would cost to prepare and purchase in Melbourne.

I believe I acquired a taste for them way back when I first visited Tuscany with Ma & Pa. Excerpt from E-vine 1993.


Tuscan cheese on toast
A villa in Greve in Chianti. Our hosts, the Anichinis, invited us to dinner and offered an entrée of what looked like grilled cheese on toast. Absolutely delicious, and my ravenous eight year old daughter scoffed three or four pieces in a couple of minutes. I asked Signora Anichini for the recipe. 'First you lightly grill the bread, then drizzle a little olive oil on it, then you add generous shavings of fresh white truffles..." 

We drank:

Castel Giocondo, Brunello di Montalcino 2005. C- brick edge, heart of ruby red, N- anise and red capsicum, P- dry and velvety with just ripe strawberries and a herbal finish

Like a whirlpool that never ends.

So, dear friends, the inevitable has happened. Within a week of one another, my betrothed and I have both fallen ill. Not seriously so, just enough to ruin sketchy plans and annoy us.


Mick just has a cold.


Pfft.


My childhood motion sickness has reared it's ugly head and joined leagues with a bout of gastro. Unpleasant. Combine the two with a rather insensible ride on the Grand Canal water bus in Venice and the result has been three days of constant dizziness and "whirlpool" gut.


Not ever having suffered from motion sickness before, Mick asked what it feels like. I replied "You know when you've had FAR too much to drink, you lie on your bed and close your eyes and the world starts moving around you." "yeah, that's the feeling". Maybe I'll look into psychiatric treatment or hypnosis therapy when we get back. In my (medically educated*) mind, motion sickness indicates a weakness of character. Why can't my stomach, brain and the horizon just sort it out?


Onto more pleasant things. Lake Como was stunning, much larger than I imagined and we found ourselves once again in the good graces of Zeus. On Tuesday we took to the Greenway del Lago di Como, walking about 8 kilometres along the curving coast roads of the west bank. The paths take you down steep cobbled alleys, past crumbling stone piers and extravagant villas (George Clooney has a place on the lake).


On Thursday we drove east, through Lombardia to the region of Veneto. Veneto covers most the northeast corner of Italy, including Verona (where they laid their scene), Padova and most famously Venice. Somewhere in the middle of all that is the hillside village of Arqua Petrarca, a spot that has been inhabited since the Bronze Age. It is currently (the locals have their fingers crossed, or the Italian equivalent) on it's way to becoming world heritage listed.


Venice was one of those places that fell on my "Should probably visit, but can be sacrificed if necessary" list. I'm super pleased we didn't sacrifice it. Despite the tourist throng and the nasty tourist targeted shops, the city itself was lovely. Slightly worn looking, in a pre-loved way, the buildings lining the canals looked warm and sun drenched in spite of their cool blue roadways.


Taking a hand drawn map our host made for us, we headed off the beaten track and wandered through the Jewish Ghetto, visited Madonna dell'Orto (church with divine frescoes) and hunted down an antique jewelery store in the Dorsoduro. We sipped Spritz; prosecco, Aperol and soda (I think) while munching tiny tiny single ingredient panini's in a Campo for lunch.


Gaja Sperss 2000 (nebbiolo, half bottle)- C- deep purple, with a garnet edge, N- surprising rose petals and smokey oak, P- amazing length, liquorice and herbs


*high school biology

On the road again.

Sitting on the bed in Arroyo Grande, watching the hundredth episode of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations, eating fresh mango, papaya and pineapple salad and planning our winery tour of Paso Robles for tomorrow. Don't be jealous. We are miserable. Seriously.

*wink*

A big thank-you to all of those who receive the blog via email. I appreciate the fact that not one of you pointed out my grammatical errors. My faithful proof-reader had already crashed for the evening and I was at the point of having to pin my eyelids up with bobby pins.

One thing I forgot to include yesterday was an amusing conclusion Mick and I came to on the drive out of Yosemite. Our combined knowledge of the US wilderness and it's wild inhabitants is directly linked to the number and variety of American cartoons we watched as children. Woody Woodpecker, Heckle & Jeckle, Mac & Tosh and the Looney Tunes family. These shows probably set the groundwork for our developing funny bones as well.

So, to the point, today was another driving day. From the Sierra Nevada ranges West back to the coast. A comfortable 300 miles (482km).

We both enjoy the open road and the Californian "dust bowl" was stark but dazzling. Undulating ranges, bereft of trees as far as the eye can see. The dry pastures glowed like golden velvet. The flatlands are planted with uniform rows of corn, almonds and stone fruit. They were irrigated in a manner strange to my eye. The trees appeared to be flooded, water a foot or more up their trunks. Not something I've seen back home.

Off to bed now. Sitting in a car all day is draining.

Oops! This might be a rant.

Today we drove East towards the Sierra Nevada ranges. The drive took around five hours and was fairly non-eventful. So to entertain you, faithful readers (Mum & Dad!) I will share with you a few tidbits of American life that have been keeping us amused.

Traffic signals- I've never really considered Australia to be a overly sensible country. That was until I started navigating Mike through the nonsensical streets of California. They have these wacky four way stop signed intersections. They have red flashing lights above, for each lane and work on a first come, first to go basis. Umm? Ever heard of a round about?

They call a "give way" a "yield"! I yield to no man!!

Another thing that befuddles me is the contradictory rule they have where you can go through a red light when turning right. Huh?

Sizing of food- Now I've seen Supersize Me and another doco that I can't think of the name of... but I wasn't actually convinced the sizing could be all that much bigger than Australian. I mean we have the same businesses, surely they all have the same packaging? No, they don't. The size of a small coffee here, is that of a large back home. This is across the board, french fries, burgers, beer cans, milk bottles et al. Quite offensive to my refined palate (Ha!).

Cheapness of booze- Not much more to say really. The government here mustn't tax grog like our caring leaders. A cashier exclaimed when we purchased a micro-brew for $2.30 "Wow! That must be some beer. Expensive!" or something along those lines. Spirits are the same, a local Rite Aid (we thought it was a pharmacy) advertised Jim Beam 750ml for $10.99 and Chivas Regal 750ml for $19.99. I wonder what the comparative alcoholism rates are.

Blue Moon Seasonal Honey Moon Summer Ale $1.79- Brewed in Colorado, light and refreshing with the faintest hint of honey and orange peel.

Stupidness of money (Mick's contribution)- They have all these coins right? The sizes don't match the increasing denomination and (!) all of their notes are the same colour, size and shape.

Non-dairy creamer- Available at all coffee retailers. The one from our hotel room contains corn syrup, partially hydrogenated soy bean oil, sodium caseinate (derived from milk), dipotassium phosphate, mono & diglycerides, titanium oxide (for the whiteness I think), Silican dioxide... There are more, but I'm sure you get my point. Just what I want to be adding to my morning cup. Why?! They have plenty of milk so why would anybody use this shite? Vom.

I had planned on threading interesting links throughout this post. However, I think the hotel bandwith is maxed out. Do your own damn research!

Love,

Annie

Taken' it easy.

Today we picked up the car. Mike braved the streets on his own, while I packed up our lives. Somehow our two packs and one backpack have multiplied into an assortment of bag-"rooms". A bag for kitchen accoutrement, a sack of laundry and an assembly of un-catergorisable "stuff" that was jammed into every other available gap.

Mick picked up the car and successfully made it back to the hotel to get me. A significant feat for his first state-side (left hand drive) driving experience. Working out where we were in the space of the universe was suddenly a challenge. Everything was front to back and we weren't helped by a road map that unfolded to the size of a bed sheet.

I can't speak for Mick but the fantastic feeling I felt of finally "arriving" when we hit the post "Golden Gate Bridge" HWY was overwhelming. This was what we had been looking forward to. The wind blowing through the windows, American pop-rock on the radio, the sun streaming down on us and views of eagles riding drafts of air high above the valleys.

We liked the romantic notion of taking the coastal road but we weren't quite prepared for the consequent journey time. The planned three hours dragged on and on as the road hugged the coastline.

We stopped early in the trip at Muir Beach. A small coastal community centered around the beach and it's adjoining creek system. Not perturbed by the signs warning of bobcats, coyotes or the occasional mountain lion we stretched our legs and gathered our bearings.

Upon returning to the car I promptly passed out. I suspect it was a side effect of my anti-nausea medication. Our tale continues much further down the road. *zzzz*