EXPERIMENTING WITH A TELEPHOTO ZOOM.
Like many other landscape and travel photographers I have long relied upon my wide angle zoom lenses for the majority, if not all my efforts to produce evocative images. But as time marches on I have taken onboard the advice of many of my Youtube heroes and moved to try and get closer to the landscape and architecture.Compressing the subject from its background can change the look and feel of the final composition into something more interesting and most often perhaps even more pleasurable to the viewer. I bounce around from system to system. I am not a professional and that is easy to see. What I am is someone that is always looking for a change.
The change has to be for the better. Now that does not mean that the change will provide me with newer or better equipment. Sometimes for me a change of system might provide inspiration. EVF's have become a tool I prefer and enjoy to use. My sight is failing and I feel that an optical viewfinder does not help me where I need help.In the last 10 years I have used Nikon, Olympus, Leica, Sony, Fuji, back to Nikon and at the moment I am back again with Sony. It appears that I am not what you would refer to as brand loyal. I have had a camera in my hands or near by for the last 40 years and as such I have seen very big advancements in every aspect of the hobby.I am currently using a Sony A7II (because my III has been backordered for 2 months) and several Sony lenses.
I can only hope that the A7III is as good as its hype. I am of the opinion that it must be getting all the accolades and winning over the photographic community for good reason. My last camera was a Nikon D850 that I would have been still using today if I did not drop it onto concrete from a hight 3 months ago. It is a magnificent camera capable of exceptional things.As you have read in other posts I can be prone to the odd ramble and as such I am gonna get back to the reason for this post. I have fallen in love with the Sony FE 70-200mm F4. I find that it renders beautiful images and is light and relatively compact enough to take very little space in a bag.
I have used it in several locations both on and off tripod and I feel it is a gem.The colours it produces are accurate and I feel it is just as sharp as other more expensive offerings from both Sony and it's competitors. I can't speak to the Sony 70-200mm F4 from a technical perspective as I'm not interested. All I can tell you is that I love it. I would not rely upon it indoors with the A7II but if the hype is real with III then maybe with enough ambient light and A7S II like high ISO, then maybe it may be ok then too. What is important to know is that the image quality and sharpness is certainly good enough for me. The lens is constructed very well and to a high standard in my humble opinion.So what I have left is to provide a gallery of images taken over the last month with the Sony combo. Please leave your thoughts in the comments below.
Mont Blanc.
Ypres.
Ypres
Ypres
I LOVE GOOOOOLLLLLD
Before I stoop to another Goldmember quote, (the only Dutch movie character parody I’ve ever seen) I should catch you up on where we have been for the last few days. We pulled into Gent with all the best intentions to see one of Europe’s perfectly kept Cities.
Sadly our time in the otherwise quiet little hub was thrown to the wolves as we landed ourselves in town for Gentfest.Every Belgian from near and far had descended here to get down with any or every musical genre you could imagine. It was ok but not what we looking for. We split pretty quick (I am a poet and don’t even know it) and made our way to Ypres. Success and an absolutely A+ afternoon in a perfect place.
We wandered for hours until the internal clock told Alli it was time for moule’s et frites.We both opted for white wine sauce. Such a good evening at a top notch brasserie. Our waiter spoke only four languages fluently and he worked the terrace of 25 tables like a robot. Nobody had an empty glass. Nobody looked like they were wanting for anything.It makes you stop and ponder as to how 3 waitresses at the Penny Farthing Pub back home frequently allow three very well paying customers to remain as parched as a fly on a camels ass from arrival to departure.
That Belgian man was indeed a professional and I went as far to tell him so more than once. Sadly another saga nears its close and I currently sit on the 5th floor of our hotel peering towards the North runway of Schipol Airport. We have been in Amsterdam for 3 days now which has given us some time to live a little like the Dutch (sans the red light district nastiness or THC lollipop consumption).We have wandered the canals, seen Anne Frank’s home and even replaced a battery in an iPhone 6 at the Amsterdam Apple Store.
From the old to the new is all to be tried and tested here. It is a nation of giants. Seemingly all Dutch folks ride bikes or scooters like the cast of Mad Max. The first one with Mel Gibson, not that other shit. Amsterdam is a city that tolerates almost anything or anyone.To say this city is liberal in outlook would be a definite understatement. “And the sign says long haired freaky people must apply”. Almost everyone of our stops on this adventure have had a cafe culture.Amsterdam is certainly that way as well but on steroids.
You have two choices. You can tempt fait and risk your life with the cyclists and scooteratti coming at you on the sidewalk from all angles and directions or you can take one pace backwards and fear not as you fall into a chair of one of the 4000 cafes (according to trip advisor) that line the streets and canals. The public transit is top notch and almost Swiss in punctuality.
I keep wanting to speak ill of London’s Tube or Paris’s Metro in comparison but I have to put it into perspective. Amsterdam has a population of 900,000 and London and Paris are 10,657,000 and 2,241,000 in comparison. I couldn’t organize a cab journey for 5 so I better check myself before I wreck myself. Sadly its over.We are checked in online and we are bound for the airport in the morning to climb aboard our KLM flight for Seattle. Thanks to Deanna and Allistair for making this trip one never to forget. Not too many husbands nowadays can say that they have celebrated a silver anniversary with their wonderful wife. Love you buddy! Thanks to the guys at work for holding the fort while I gallivant.Next week I will be back with my nose to the grindstone and hoping to quickly get back in the groove. Until next time!I am truly grateful for the well over 14000 visitors to this site over the years.
Cheers...Mark
NO EMBELLISHMENT REQUIRED.
I left you last time from my lounge table at the Holiday Inn Express in Affoltern am Albis. This is a pretty little town just a little north of Lucerne. Our afternoon’s journey took us through valleys bordering the Alps and early in the evening we pulled in shattered from the drive and the heat. In Affoltern we checked in and I got the blog knocked out, finished my beer and got up to head to the elevator.
Just as I got to my feet I caught a glimpse. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Three tour buses pulling up in front of the hotel one after the other.Not only was this a bus tour Mecca, it was the same folks from Interlaken who we had dodged several hours earlier. I picked up my pace to try to get on the elevator (one only) before well over a 100 bus tourists were assigned their rooms from their yellow flag carrying cyborg leaders. Epic fail, too late.
The procession had begun. Deanna and I looked at our concierge with sad puppy dog eyes. He took pity on us and brought us into the back of house to use the staff elevator to the 6th floor. I felt like a rock star escaping a throng of rabid fans “out the back door of the theatre”. It’s good to be an IHG Spire customer as several of my brothers in arms know too well. The following morning the breakfast area was like feeding time at the zoo.
If you felt like taking your life in your hands now was the time to try and jockey for position at the trough. I could not understand the bus tour banter however I think they were enjoying shutting us out. We regrouped and waited for the surly drivers to arrive and bark loading times and other orders at the bus tourists. It did not seem to me that they liked their job by their tone and facial expressions.
What I did notice however is that these fellows were clearly not to be trifled with and they must be well known for driving off leaving tardy passengers behind on a regular basis. That all being said the breakfast room cleared out in seconds and calm was restored. Bliss! The following morning was spent in Laufenburg, Switzerland. The place is spectacular. The photos do not do it a quarter of the respect its owed.
The remainder of our day was spent travelling through rural Switzerland and the black Forrest of Bavaria. We finally called it a day in Fruedenstadt, Germany. It was a treat to check in to our little Bavarian hotel and soon after we were into the middle of town and the Centrum platz. We made for the local Brau Haus and quickly got down to business with Pilsners and an unreal selection of pigs knuckle, sour kraut and schnitzel.
A wonderful meal served by typically grumpy fifty something ladies dressed in local garb (use your imagination). Dinner was fantastic but Allistair was a little put out by the amount of Kirsht in his Black Forrest Sundae. Life is hard for teenagers! Back to the hotel and soon to sleep. We woke not too long after and joined our fellow guests for a wonderful breakfast and then packed the car for our journey north. We set the GPS for Wetzlar just past Frankfurt. Wetzlar is home to Leica camera. It’s factory and world HQ. I have been a devoted fan of Leica cameras since photography became a hobby. Their history is long and colourful. Without Leica we would not have enjoyed so many of the photographs we call iconic today. Leica have provided tools for the best and brightest photographers to capture & catalogue history. We enjoyed coffee and cake at the Leica cafe’ to begin with then moved on to the exhibit centre, gallery and store. I have been lucky to own a Leica in the past but not recently and today makes me lust after one now even more.
From Wetzlar we moved onto Ghent in Belgium this afternoon. The autobahn and an average speed of 175 kmh helped with our arrival time but not my nerves. You think you are Sebastian Vettel as you rocket along, but furious Germans are on your bumper flicking their high beams incessantly so that you get out of their way. You think you’re fast, they go much much faster. Germany’s roads are scary but please go anyway, we met some lovely Syrian dial-a-dopers (economic migrants doing well, you might say) last night after dark in the platz.
I call them as I sees them and these telephone based narcotic delivery specialists were doing quite well for themselves by the look of their bling, several burner phones and shiny new Nike Shox (prison shoes in Canada). Anyway, we are here and resting before we spend the next couple of days wandering Ghent prior to moving on to conclude our trip in Amsterdam.
I leave you with this. Don’t bus tour. It really looks like the most miserable of times! And what do you see? You see what others tell you to see and then you wage war with your new friends (you never wanted) at the buffet every morning and night until its all gone and so is your will to live. It sounds shit cause it is shit.
Live well!
BIG DAY, THE TOUR AND MONT BLANC.
It has been a whirlwind of a couple of days. Yesterday with heavy hearts we bid farewell to Bonnieux and our ages old stone cottage. Provence was phenomenal and didn’t disappoint for weather, beauty or tranquility. We set sail for Albertville in Northeast France as the tour was to kick off at noon. We made good time and as a result we learned a few things being considerably early.
First, the early bird gets the worm. By worm I mean it gets pelted with freebies from the dozens of sponsormobiles. Each sponsor has worker-bees who are roped on to the back of their vehicles in precarious positions so that they can throw anything from tiny sausages to lanyards to hats (got one) to the thousands of totally committed fans that line the route.It took 3x longer for the sponsor peloton to go by than the actual peloton 2 hours later (spoiler alert).
But when the real peloton comes by it is quite something I must admit. It is another bucket list’r checked off. I’ll say it again, quite something. When you have seen the last rider go by you actually feel a bit of an adrenaline dump.I can’t say for sure that I even caught a glimpse of the maillot jaune but that’s ok. It was an awesome afternoon where we were right there on the side of the road.
For countless years every July we have have eaten our family dinner on our laps in front of the TV watching the tour from home in Victoria. The scenery, the spectacular racing, the controversy (thanks Lance).We moved on from Albertville to Chamonix to catch a glimpse of Mont Blanc. As a kid I was completely consumed by the extreme ski films made by Warren Miller. Chamonix was always a location for some of Warren’s best skiers to do what they do in order to thrill every ticket paying movie goer.So it all came together.
I got there (in the wrong season mind you) and it is beautiful. To see Mont Blanc there in all its glory was just a bit over the top. The glacier falls away from the summit and the ice is a beautiful bright blue.Today we drove to Interlaken in Switzerland and I was not shocked to see the dozens of tour buses near the railroad station (there wasn’t a Swiss person to be seen).
We set the GPS for a restaurant high atop the town at quite an elevation. [wpvideo wlLTPHlB]The Eiger stands proud nearby and we were entertained by the view from table. Like it was on cue, dozens of parasailors fell from the sky above us and disappeared below to the valley floor. Tomorrow we hope to up our game and head towards the Black Forrest in Bavaria.
Hop Suisse!
Mark…
THE WORLD’S LONGEST POSTCARD.
Before I crack on with today’s nonsense I hope that every reader understands that this word jumble is my therapy. I am not a writer. I wish I had the talent that my friend Daryl has. He has more writing ability in his little finger than I do in every obtuse lump of me. When considering today’s title I mused over several possibilities. The first was kitschy, something Provençal perhaps?Then I thought maybe something about the continued scorching hot weather. Of course there could have been some self deprecating quote to do with England loosing to the Croatians in the semi’s.
You know something like how to blow a lead and the World Cup in one simple move. When all was considered I concluded that anyone with the intestinal fortitude to take on reading this epic instalment should be forewarned that it will have a ton of photos and may go on much longer than the average self harmer might want to endure. Since the last time I collected my thoughts on paper we have done so much and seen so many places. We have wandered the ramparts and halls of the Papal Palace in Avignon.We have slowly meandered through countless hilltop villages stopping to peer inside shops, galleries and cafes.We have shopped till we dropped in Aix-en-Provence.In between shops we were able to find our way into the Cezanne and Picasso exhibition at the Aix Art Gallery.
Today we left somewhat later than we usually do from home base in Bonnieux and drove to Mennerbes and on through Lumierre to Goult.I have to jump on the sword now and retract my earlier comments stating that Cucuron is the merde’! Goult is now the front runner in the my top Provençal Village ever award.Gordes is spectacular, Lacoste is pretty and filled with Artists in training as they summer at the Savannah College of Art situated below the Chateau. Apparently Pierre Cardin is the benefactor of the village and art school and you can tell as this place drips with style and design.I could go on and on about the veritable cornucopia of little places we have rambled about but at this stage you clearly have got the point.I love France.I love the food. I love the wine.I love that you can't get food or gas or anything for that matter on national holidays and Sundays.I like the style.I like the design.I like the land and the interminable sense of slow and easy.For Christ sake, I even like the little buck o’ five Frenchmen that put out a smoke only to role another and light it immediately. Of course the biggest question of the day is who do I cheer for on Sunday when we once again walk down to our neighbourhood cafe to watch the outdoor 75” flat screen.Ok, I am saying this once and only once.I am cheering for France.Those cheating diving Croatian’s do not deserve the win.
They did not beat England the night before last.They assaulted them.I routinely starred into the eyes of the psycho looking ref on numerous occasions expecting a card.Nothing.Abominable. I have never once in 52 years of watching the soccer or Rugby ever uttered the words "Allez Les Bleu”. But here goes.This Sunday that is all gonna change for one and only one time ever.I swear on my English Rose tattoo (if I had one).Tomorrow is Bastille Day and as such we can expect all kinds of pomp and circumstance. The French are a proud nation. I tip my hat to them. I would trade every member of the Trudeau family (past and present) for one de Gaulle.
Allez Les Bleu!
VIVA ESPAÑA
Barcelona has left an unbelievably positive impression on us both. It felt like it could easily be home with a huge mix of many ingredients. A big city without the feeling of congestion or pressure. It’s hard to encapsulate so many sights, sounds, and smells in a short story and I am not about to do it justice.Landing here on Saturday afternoon we jumped in a cab (they hate Uber) and made our way into the city in around 20 minutes or so.
Our driver told us he was the son of a Spanish father and a Dominican mom. He was born in the Dominican Republic but had shared his 50 or so years on this planet between both. This guy was a super happy soul and a very proud citizen of Barcelona.
I could not have had a better view. A 2-1 Barca lead was levelled by Real Madrid center forward and Welshman Gareth Bale in the second half that saw out 90 minutes and 10 minutes of injury time. Every one of those minutes were filled with the voices of Barca fans with their songs and cheers. At the final whistle I wandered slowly from the stands and met up with Dale in the agreed location. We revelled in the experience and then made our way home. So late to bed and early to rise. Our plane left Barcelona this morning for London at 7:10. It was a great flight on EasyJet once again with speedy boarding.
So here we are back in old blighty. The sun is out big time and we are gonna head for the train into town, the Grosvenor Hotel is our digs for the next couple of days.
Live Well!
Excitement Turns to Lower Back Pain.
Saturday was supposed to be about making sure we get up by 7, have some breakfast and head south from Skye to make it to Dunfermline by 2. Most reading this blog will not understand my obsession with watching England’s men’s rugby team play but today is supposed to be a chance to end the 6 Nations Tournament on a high with a victory over the Irish.I thought if we get to Dunfermline in good time we could find a great pub there. If all goes well we would find a quiet snug to watch the game. Two reasons that a quiet snug out of the way was in order. The first was I wanted to hear the TV announcers call the game, and second, if any Scotsman noticed I was cheering for England, there may have been an angry scene from Braveheart improvised at our table.The Scots get along with the English in so many ways except Rugby or Soccer or any other sport for that matter. To recap, we had 5 hours to make the journey in the glorious sunshine and then an hour to unwind before kickoff.Well sunshine and beautiful mountian scapes gave way to a significant loss of visibility and blowing snow. Two weeks ago the so named “beast from the east” hit the UK with a bout of bad weather that has not been seen in years. Today and two weeks hence we have plunged back into the belly of that beast. Simply put we could not see a hand in front of our faces and that happened in just a matter of seconds.So driving on already challenging roads went from bad to worse. When you see drivers do stupid things in these conditions your blood pressure spikes and explatiffs may sneak out at speed. As we rounded the next blind corner I see a van full of tourists from Asia that have decided to stop dead in the oncoming lane to scout potential photo opportunities near the adjacent river. If perhaps their choice would have included a safer location or at minimum pulling off the road, I suppose I would have understood. When you park in such a fashion other drivers following behind are provided only one choice, and that is to pull into oncoming traffic to get around.I swerved to miss the 5 Series BMW and luckily no damage was caused. This did however cause my temper to rage a tad. As such I was not paying attention to the pot hole that soon swallowed up our front passenger wheel. That in turn set off the tire pressure alarm almost immediately. So that’s cool. Flat tire in the Scottish Highlands. No cell coverage, no handbook in the glove compartment and only a few of the tools in the boot required for a simple tire change.
Regardless cooler heads prevailed (Deanna) and we got down to the business of jacking up the Focus and putting on the donut. Twenty minutes later and we were on our way with filthy hands and strained lower backs. 50 ain’t easy! Eventually we got phone service and we began the process of enquiring what to do to have the tire and clearly bent rim looked at or the car replaced. As you can imagine the more laborious of options is what they (Enterprise) start with. I was hoping for, “We will bring the car to you in Dunfermline sir and we will swap you.” Instead we got, “You better find a National Tyre outlet Sir and have the damage repaired.”
Things you may have already guessed. Number one, the guys at National Tyre couldn’t be bothered. As timing and luck would have it both were otherwise focussed on their local drug dealer who had recently stopped by to drop off a couple of very small plastic bags. There were two “service specialists” at this location. One couldn’t stop doing whatever he was doing (not working) to focus on us. The second one I have appropriately named Ruprect, was clearly wearing safety glasses to prevent him from plunging his own fork into his bastard eyes. We sat in the car for almost an hour before our inattentive customer service rep even gazed at the wheel and then he decided that a rubber mallet would save the day. Well to my surprise customer service representative number one, who by the way resembled Rent Boy of Train Spotting fame did good. I could almost here him grumble:“Choose a life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers... Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit crushing game shows, sticking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away in the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourself, choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that?”― Irvine Welsh, TrainspottingOur damaged wheel and tyre went back on and away we went in under two hours (for a 5 minute job). We left Perth and motored on to Dunfermline to the welcome face of Lizzy at the desk of the Holiday Inn Express. “Thank you for being a Spire Elite Customer Sir!” Thank you Lizzy for having everything ready. We shoved our gear into our room and checked the score. I should have known & I guess I shouldn’t complain as it is St. Paddy’s Day. The Irish faces were smiling. They had beaten the English at their own game on their own field.One thing I know for sure is that when you are depressed, beer is the best remedy. Down the road was the Elizabethan and its draft taps o’plenty. No Irish here but lots of Scotsman drinking lots of Tennants. We decided to join them as we know we can’t beat them. To add to the little mercies came a decision to order the Haggis Balls with whiskey cream sauce.
Nice one!SlàinteMark
Waiter! Back in the States, we call that a Hawaiian Pizza.
Another day in the cradle of civilization went very well if I may say so myself. Given that we had already hit the majority of the “biggies” over the course of the last few outings, today was a day for “a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll”. For those in the crowd that love and pine for the retro tones of Donny and Marie, here’s looking at you kids!We left our place this morning once again on a straight shot to St. Peters. It may sound like we always end up there but actually we always end up there. Not always because we intend to but mainly because it is five minutes from our AirBnB on the way to literally everything else.
We walked straight by this morning except for one deviation as I stopped & watched intently as a plain clothes Roma Police team shook down a Gypsy who was a bit too aggressive with the elderly pilgrims in town for a “god time” not a long time. Just as I had observed a Caribinieri officer smash a “Gypo" for pickpocketing in Florence many moons ago, this was just as entertaining. Perhaps most reading this would think I may have a black heart but these thieving little Bas**ards deserve everything they get.
If you never ventured out of tourist Rome you may think that every Roman gets a mega stipend at birth so they may look, smell and be great. I guess its a rouse, these folks have jobs. We walked past the Italian Navy HQ. White uniforms were the order of the day and there were hundreds. I have been suffering with my obligatory heat rash about the ankles as per usual in this country. Deanna has suffered through many a day and night with me here (mostly Venice or Assisi) & helps me administer the usually useless ointments at the conclusion of every long day. Today I went to a pharmacy and in my best broken Italian asked the chemist what she thought.
Fifteen seconds later with a short confab with her senior and over the counter came a spray pump bottle containing instant relief and reversible symptom treatment within an hour.I have been here numerous times and just plain suffered. Stupid is as stupid does once said a wise ping pong playing man. So with relief came a notion to head to a cafe, have some lunch and a beer or two and then finish it all off with a tiramisu and a wicked smooth espresso. Joy in Mudville peeps, all is well in the world. Fuelled and good to go. 150 meters west and we stood in front of a church I did not recognize. The Church of Gesu’. Im gonna say it, second best and rivalling the best of the bunch we have had the honour to visit. I’m all out of adjectives. Crazy crazy beautiful. After 45 minutes sitting in several seats around the building with our necks cranked way back it was time to think about the off.Uber requested and a six minute wait.
While we wait I will explain todays title. About an hour earlier, all was going smoothly at the Cafe Napoleon. Then Chip and Buffy and their friends Chip and Buffy decided to co-join our table. Buffy 1 had one policy. Only stop talking when food was inserted in her gob. Her incessant jabbering about Alabama was starting to make my ears bleed. Chip 1 didn't say much, I'm not sure he was authorized to. Our waiter was good, multi lingual and really sharp. Buffy 1 wanted pizza. She pointed to the menu in an effort to order. It would have been much easier to annunciate but oh well. The waiter confirmed her choice of prosciutto & pineapple as he clearly didn't get many locals placing that order. He spoke clearly in English to confirm the choice. He read back the toppings. Thats when Buffy 1 tried to explain in “American” that back in the states they call that a Hawaiian Pizza.
Luca tried to keep a straight face however there was a strong hint of you are a stupido oozing out from his every pour. Next came Buffy 2 who only wanted a salad as she was watching her weight (we learned). Buffy 2 wanted to know if she could get ranch dressing on the side. The response from Luca was what kind of dressing? Olio and balsamic, that is what we have. Buffy 2 was just a little stunned as they have ranch dressing back in the states and as it turns out on Carnival Cruise lines too. Chip 1 and Chip 2 ordered pasta carbonara. This prompted Buffy 2 to reconsider her original order. “Could I have a pasta carbonara too waiter? Trump could win….. Buffy 2’s diet starts tomorrow!
Cheers,
Marco
DOES USING UBER MAKE ME A 51 YEAR OLD HIPSTER?
Nine long hours on foot around Rome today. I was “losing power Captain” and I needed some help to keep my happy place and happy face in tact. Just then I discovered a cure for this uncivilized pain. It is app based and it is amazing. Little did I know until late this afternoon as I sat next to a beautiful and cooling fountain in a curiously silent piazza that life doesn't have to be hard. Uber is a thing & it exists in Rome. Angus had the occasion to use it several times in London 3 weeks ago without a hitch. So what the hell, I started an account and began to see the simplicity in this service.I know most of you know everything I'm going to say already, but I was taken with the process and the ability to monitor our Uber’s location on my phone as he made his way for our pick-up. I could see the drivers photo, I knew his name was Massimo and that he would be arriving in a black BMW 5 Series. All of which came true 6 minutes later. Massimo arrived in a Italian tailored suit, sporting short hair and a Roman attitude. This was fine.
The app had sent me a quote for 18 Euros back to our Air BnB. Twelve minutes later and we were there. Slick, cool and a must do-over for sure.What took us to the piazza that Massimo had just picked us up from you ask? Well I am more than happy to tell you. This morning was a rough one. We got up early again as it seems there has been little in the way of jet lag to suffer through so far. We walked Southeast on Via Aurelia until we reached our first stop of the day back at St. Peters Square. We knew yesterday that the Pope would be giving mass today and as you can imagine so did close to 90.000 faithful present. I never thought that this would happen but it has. I have seen the Pope live and on jumbo-tron. A life memory of epic proportion.
At the conclusion of the outdoor service we wandered back to the Tiber and crossed the Ponte Principe into the centre of Roma. Just like last year I was absolutely blown away with some of the most stunning hole in the wall churches and cathedrals that literally line the streets on both sides and in every direction. You wander into a nondescript doorway to find yourself in a narnian world. You think you are venturing into a phone booth sized room. The next thing you know you are in a room the size of a soccer pitch from end to end and floor to ceiling.
From the Pantheon we walked to the Trevi Fountain. The last time I was here it was closed for a makeover. For those who think a trip to Vegas and its Bellagio or Venetian Hotels are a true and accurate depiction of all that is remarkable about Italy, then think again. Neither are, and in fact they are a soulless misinterpretation for the slack jawed troglodytes that arrive via Southwest Airlines because they love the sounds of the slots and the taste of Marlboro.The Trevi is the real deal. That is marble and lots of it. Those statues were carved not made of plaster of Paris. It is something. If I am lying why was there 5000 visitors standing shoulder to shoulder around me to make a wish and toss a coin into it's pools. It is remarkable. From the Trevi we made our way to the Forum and then on to the Colosseum. That walk has an innate ability to send you back in time. You are riding aboard a chariot or drinking wine under a palm. My retention of Roman history is not fantastic but I do recall that to be a Roman in the those days meant privilege and a life of civility. I believe to some degree the people here are still living a life of privilege.
La Dolce Vita is here in spades. Style is seen on foot, in cars or aboard a screamingly fast scooter. Prada high heeled shoes do work as the perfect accoutrement to a Momo Scooter helmet. Believe me its true.It was time to wander from the crowds, so taking another Rick Steves suggestion we walked west back across the Tiber to Trastevere. Immediately the pace of life slowed and the trattorias and vino bars were full of locals. This is going to be my go to for the remainder of the stay here in the nations capital. Awesome vibe. So here we are back full circle. I forgot to mention several notable moments today. My Lemon Gelato and my macchiato whilst standing at the bar, both were terrific in their own way.
Back at our Air BnB now, I am a converted Uber user. I travelled in BMW luxury. Upon receiving my e-receipt I was pleasantly surprised that the quote sent earlier of 18 Euro was a tad over zealous. The fare ended up being 16.00 Euros. I am a hipster and I didn't even have to swill Portland micro brew over my perfectly trimmed beard whilst wearing a plaid shirt. I call that a good day!
Arivaderci!
Mark
WITHOUT SUFFERING, A PILGRIMAGE IT IS NOT
That is a dramatic title for what was just a wee bit of suffering.
This is the second night that finds me sleeping in an apartment that literally sits in the shadow of the Vatican walls. Last night we landed at Fumancino Airport in Rome after our second flights of the day arrived from London and Paris respectively. What comes as a shock to me is that all of those thousands of miles were enjoyable & truly seamless. No hassles, great transatlantic sleeps and very good in-flight service. In fact after rubbing elbows with thousands of weary travellers in airports and during our first day in Rome, it was Sunday's experience of a lifetime aboard a BC Ferry that led me to believe this journey may be cursed. We were seated first but unfortunately for us it was the party of two that followed who would be our entertainment and pause for concern.
I will start by saying that the man in this couple was not the problem. He did his best to nervously laugh when appropriate and crisis negotiate when he got the feeling that his life was hanging in the balance. His table mate (Attila) was somewhat animated. It was clear soon into breakfast that this poor man was going to be carrying the weight of every husband, boyfriend, fling or pen pal that Atilla had ever had or attempted to conquer. The storys of Attila's woe were magnificent and colourful, if not concerning and suspenseful. Both concerning and suspenseful in the way that you watch and listen intently at a Stephen King movie when you fancy a good old fright.
Atilla's shrill voice and regular thrusting motion towards this kind man with her fork in a terrorizing fashion was starting to slow (but not curb) my ability to inhale the ferry eggo waffles (with the strawberries and whipped cream).I watched mid chew as the poor man pushed his chair back at one point to create time and distance. Not a bad plan I thought to myself as I watched his body twitch uncontrollably in a defensive posture. If we had a right as Canadian's to bestow medals on other Canadians, that guy would have been awarded a chest full as we pulled in to Tsawwassen terminal.It was not until we were walking to our bus on the ferry that I overheard the man speak to Attila in a very pensive manner. The man told Atilla that this was the first time that he ever travelled to play in the Vancouver Symphony orchestra with anyone other than his wife and that he would now gently and carefully bid farewell. He would be making the rest of the journey into the city with a waiting friend who unfortunately drives a two seater Smart car. I sensed this veiled and weak excuse was a fib. But hey, I can't believe he took the barrage of stranger danger from Attila for that long (considering he had just met her the night previous at a rehearsal). Wind instruments make strange bedfellows. So..... We are here in Vatican City. The weather is glorious and the temperature is 27. I was up at 5 and it was time to make online reservations for the Vatican Museum. For those who have been you will remember the lines and the crowds. For those who look forward to a visit, there are two very important actions that must be undertaken. Get a reservation and make it early.
I had downloaded my Rick Steves podcast tours for everything Vatican and a ticket confirmation pdf. on my phone by booking online. Upon arrival by foot we strolled by literally thousands waiting in lines and walked right in.Second time in the Vatican museum for me and a first for Gus. I followed him as he walked slowly trying to take it all in. I attempted to photograph his hanging jaw. The museum is second to none. Every artifact is stunning. The gardens are wonderful and the Sistine Chapel is out of this world. It is hard to comprehend when you are gazing up at the ceiling of the chapel that the frescos were painted by Michelangelo.
The chapel irregularly hosts all the cardinals at the time of Papal election.We left the museum and set course for St.Peters Square. Ten minutes later and we had exchanged smiles with several of the Pope's Swiss Guard and we were through security & bound to enter the basilica.Photos not words will hopefully paint a picture of this church and all its grandure. We took the time to sit in silence with other worshippers. I felt a tad rusty as I have not been to mass for several years. I'm glad we did. From there we toured the toombs of the Popes that had gone before. We left after nearly three hours feeling really good inside. If only our feet felt the same way. Sore and tired but not to be stopped, we walked east towards the Tiber and along its banks. More to see and then a quick pit stop for a sandwich and water at a local grocery store. A seat outside of a beautiful white Roman building allowed us time to snack. Five kilometres later (up-hill) and we are back at our AirBnB. As the dining room clock struck 7:00 pm Gus was snoring and I began this rambling.
There is always tomorrow.
Ciao
Marco.....
SOMEONE HAS TO DO IT
When it comes to planning, one should always find a location that suits the needs of the planners. On Wednesday what suited us was a local brew pub that has been well thought of for many years. We arrived at Spinnaker's with a lot to do and the need to be refreshed while doing it.Our server was prompt and the order went in without much chatter. Soon after, we were basking in the glow of the amber nectar and turning our mind to contacting more B&B's and hotels to accommodate our weary feet on our epic journey. We sent out a bunch more emails and then turned our focus to rental cars, train tickets and best of all tickets for as many matches at the Rugby World Cup as we can reasonably afford. Lots of web surfing later we were closer to the goal for the evening. The rugby tickets were going on sale again on Friday morning so I would focus on being successful on the day! This is going to be awesome. This trip cannot come soon enough.