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ITALY/FRANCE 03 CHIANTI
B.A. Calcutta (failed).
I.T. Internet café, (failed)
I did have a hefty journal and a little note pad all there, with all the concise pithy phrases at the ready. But the bloody Internet at the YOUTH hostel was all plastic and curves with nowhere to place the said journals.
So I did what a girl always does or this 'girl' does anyway . . .
burble. And so now I begin.
THE JOTTINGS OF MENOPAUSAL WOMEN BEHAVING BADLY.
DAY MINUS 1. Before takeoff.
I am a mere shadow of my former fat self, I have achieved my
weitght watchers goal
Suitcase is packed and can close. . almost easily.
I am dyeing clothes right up to the day of leaving and my wardrobe is now tinted in shades and hues of violet, jacaranda and smudgy aubergine with soft turquoise adding a note of contrast.
Of course there are also matching sox and purple fermo earring made especially to match, even if they don't have clips glued to their backs quite yet.
The deep purple taffeta Issi Miaki swirling raincoat I sewed is also complete, sweeping swirls and dipping hem lines, sprayed squirt, squirt with waterproofing furniture spray. There are even slacks to match.
PS. Unfortunately this new dye I've been using isn't colour fast, so bathrooms around Europe are
now tinted in similar shades of lilac and turquoise. Trisha, your turquoise scrubbing body gloves also work a treat and keep me colour coordinated, even in the bath!
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TIP: My Muslim Diet works a treat.
A trick I learnt from Jeannie, the travel agent mate, book
ahead a special diet menu- this way you get served first.
For a garbage guts like me this is wonderful Last time I
made it Fish but you get a tad bored with fish, fish and
more fish. So I checked when I booked and decided to opt
for Muslim - only limitation no pork, whereas Hindi had no
pork or beef. Didn't want Jewish - I like my ham and
prawns, and vego seemed carrying the idea too far.
Muslim was great, mostly the same as everyone else but
served first and I had 1st option if there was a limited
amount of anything.
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TIP: Playing Cards
We also learn from Mamon and Daddy's travel to ask for
playing cards as soon as we are seated. The beaut Qantas
steward, Carmello, brings us Kiddie packs in a tiny back
pack, which we also put to great use. Mine now contains my
electrics, cords, camera re charger et al, and Ali carries
hers around with her, by hand, it won't quite reach around
her middle-aged shoulders. She has even put the colored
pencils to good use. On British Airways you can only get
playing cards by buying them from the brochure. They do
have really pretty travel rugs though.
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DAY 1. 6th May.
The sleeping tablets prove invaluable and I snore z-z-z-z on through 30 hours travel time, surfacing during the 3 hour Tokyo stop over, to chatter and pick up an unlikely couple along the
way:
Isabella, 60+ and a Hungarian Pom migrant, returning for her mother's 100th birthday, with memories of the war as a 7 year old, of dead horses on the road and worse still, of
losing her mother for a whole month.
Ashley, who in truth picks us up, and chatters even more than me, sharing with us his near-death experience, after almost fatal accident at 17, and of having to learn to think again from a mental age of 7. He is now more intelligent in certain things than before the accident.
DAY 2. Nice
We arrive in Nice almost into the next day at 11.30pm and decide to lug it by foot, dragging our suitcase to the nearby hotel. It is well lit all the way and suitcase wheels help. Although it's late and we are exhausted,
this is ideal for minimal jet lag. They say you should try not to go to sleep until the evening in the new country.
We do, soundly, especially as I decide to also pop another sleeping tablet and sleep like a baby, waking around
6am. If not refreshed, then remarkably fit, all things considered, and able to walk in the sunrise to discover a
park - with gates tightly closed.
Just the same I do Chi Hung at the gates, with my unfocused eyes on the treetops and the sun rising over the mountains in the far distance.
We pick up the car with a minimum of fuss, except my watch is slow so I am 5 minutes late to meet Ali in the foyer and she is in a snit, so we cab it this time to the
terminal (wrong one, we could have walked!!) before the car hire bloke arrives for our 10am date. I drive in and around Nice with only the occasional swish, swish of windscreen wipers in moments of panic, when I push them instead of the indicators.
We slowly meander around the Cote d'Azur coast and even more slowly up the streets of
San Remo as we hit the 5pm traffic. Is it end of work chaos or return from
Siesta? We don't know. All we know is that I get RSI of the clutch
foot 'cause we're rarely out of 1st gear.
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RULE 1. Always stop around 4pm and organise your next sleep.
Normally the Tourist Information only Siesa between 1-3pm but sometimes 4 or even 5pm so you need to be pretty flexible. We always head straight to these offices (you find them by looking for the I sign when you arrive in a town. They supply you with maps and info of the particular town, essential for getting around.
You can also get decent maps for free from the better hotels, but we rarely stay in such classy joints, we opt for the info
centres, and they will often phone and book ahead for you.
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DAY 3 San Remo
We work out the perfect solution for travelling on a budget.
Go to the market or local supermarket and buy branch tomatoes, basil, olive oil, rocket, fresh lemons, salami and the local bread. Always do this before 1pm Siesta
break - sometimes the little stalls and stores are only open in the morning.
We later buy a cheap chopping board and a serrated knife for easily slicing the tomatoes. Today I use a turquoise plastic folder which doubles up as both chopping board and serving platter.
We are the queens of recycle, even saving plastic salad containers - they make great serving bowls. In desperation I later cut a small plastic bottle in half to make 2 cups for brandy, essential after a tired, frayed and argumentative end
to a day of strange road systems with crazy drivers.
Later, in Sienna, I evolve a most efficient and almost attractive bowl for pasta salad from a plastic bag, which serves double purpose as mixing bowl, then I roll down the sides to make more durable and attractive edge. It does need a solid something to stand on but it works a treat on our little balcony.
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RECIPE: Pasta Fusilli Salad.
Pasta fusilli is easier to eat with wooden chopsticks saved from plane than with the metal teaspoons, snuck into my pockets from the flight from home.
This was just cooked pasta, left-over from a meal when we had a stove, liberally anointed with olive oil, lemon juice, torn rocket and basil, small chops of salami and slices of fresh pear, previously tossed in more lemon juice to prevent browning. Probably also added a few chopped branch tomatoes.
Yummoh
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Well. What do you think? Quite a girl.
Have fun.
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