thought a beautiful think 2

*not my photo or words. I've just mixed them. naughty i know. forgive me?

thought a beautiful think

*I've just put the words and image together. Neither the words nor picture is mine.

Come ride with me....

....come ride, let's ride away...

ha ha ahhhhhhh

I feel so invigorated!

I feel like I've spent the day filming an ad. For clothes? Sunnies? Mineral water? Perfume? Italian tourism? Any of it, all of it!!

The sunshine was glorious, and I spent the morning promenading in a '50s style frock. It's mint green with an abstract floral print in pink, lemon, white, charcoal grey and deep purple. Very Dior 'New Look' or January Jones in Mad Men, it swishes like a dream. The sunnies are faux Raybans in a pink&black gingham check.

After lunch, meanwhile, I rode a bicycle around the streets and wall of Lucca. The town's 4.2km wall is just MADE for an afternoon ride in the sunshine. A breeze to keep you cool, trees planted all along to dapple you in shade as you whizz along, dodging the evening walkers. I paused for a moment to pull the bottle of mineral water out of my basket, and as I opened the lid the water fizzed everywhere. It was refreshing after the heat of the ride, and of course there's nothing to do but giggle at the water spray.

By now I was wearing a shortie gingham playsuit with a little white straw hat. Weaving around, laughing, the hat tossed in the basket, the wind rustling my hair, hunting out gelati with my cousins, how could it NOT feel like a moment worth every penny?

-fin-

Amazing Italian food moments

Millefoglie ciccolato. Even the words look delicious.

My mother is an avid reader of foodie magazines, eg. Gourmet Traveller, Vogue Entertainment, Cuisine, Delicious....

For years (decades is probably more accurate) she has been tearing, ripping and cutting out places to eat, recipes to try and styling to emmulate. The styling and the cooking she can do at her leisure in Melbourne, and has done for as long as anyone remembers. Getting the chance to actually test out some of the amazing foreign locations, however, is a relative novelty.

Finally, she is in Italy, the land of her foodie dreams, and for Florence she has come armed with a 2 page spread from two Sydney gentlemen who run a restaurant together, and frequently return to Florence. The article is EXCLUSIVELY about food and is very specific in what to eat at each place.

There are probably about a dozen places mentioned, and we have so far tried at least 8 of them. Their hit rate is eight for eight. Do you know how rare this is?? I want to travel the WORLD with these dudes, they,ve got some serious flair. The bombolini, chocolate millfoglie, panino bollitos with salsa verde, hole-in-the-wall paninoteca, pasta-free trattorias, gelati and chocolates have all been out-of-this-world delicious. And we are a VERY discerning pair of eaters.

Eggplant Parmagiana. Rich but not too rich, cheesey, hot and fresh. So tasty all propriety went out the window and I ate it fast a golden retreiver. VOMPFF! Gone. I was lucky it was a civilised portion size, cos I would have cleared the plate no matter how big it was.

At the Market Centrale, the Florence food markets rather like Queen Vic or Camberwell Markets. Fresh produced and preserved meats strung high, it looked like Christmas in there. Nerponte (? dont have my notes on my to check atm, sorry) was recommended for their bollito rolls. Ma and I were prepared to order a bollito roll based exactly as we were told, even asking for the recommended swipe of salsa verde not know what "bollito" meant. Boiled, it turns out, is what it means. Boiled beef and they pour the cooking juices into your roll, stack in some boiled beef and if you know what you're doing you ask for some salsa (it's like pesto, but better. This we already knew.) While hanging out at the counter Ma saw a large, steaming tray come out filled with a stew-like meal that smelt and looked amazing. On a whim, she added that to the order with the karafe of vino casa and we looked like locals. Although a little early (11am, haha. How to beat the lunch crowds: eat before lunch!) Anyway, turns out that meal in the bowl, that looks a little like pasta is in fact tripe. Sheep's stomach lining. Which, when uncooked looks like a bizarre kind of fleece.

I was OK with the fact I LOVED boiled beef roll. I was DISTURBED by what a celestial experience the tripe was. From Aus I had promised Mum I'd sample tripe because it was the regional speciality, but it was a WORLD away from what I expected. Do it.

Mixed Crostini. These are actually in Venice. The half-eaten one was the best, just incredible. radicchio, some kind of mayonaise, herbs, white anchovies (I normally detest anchovies). Num num num num. There are very few Italians in Venice, so it can be hard to judge where might be good to eat, but I noticed when paying that some of the gondola crewmen were hanging out there. Good sign. Their macchiato was also the best I've had to date in Italy (good cappucinos are much easier to find.)

This is the home of the chocolate millfoglie, custard bombolini, mini fruit tart, torta della nonna, delicious cappucino/macchiato.....

Given that I've only had 4 days in Florence, the fact that I've returned 4 times should tell you all you need to know.

Cosi cosi

SAN MARCO


The Doge’s Palace was not something that had made it onto my little historical radar (key word being ‘little’.) It was, as any edifice carved in white marble with gilt-framed paintings at every turn will be, impressive. Sheer scale and age will do that. So will a lack of expectations.

Palazzo San Marco, however, and the Basilica San Marco, was entirely underwhelming and overrated. It is dark and gloomy despite the gold mosaics proliferating on every horizontal service. One can neither sit nor walk in the main body of the church. While I understand WHY this is so, given its significance as a tourist attraction and the troubles in upkeep, it made it difficult to get a sense of it as a place of worship. Much more to my taste were some of the white, airy, simpler churches we stumbled across at every second or third campo.

Once again, while I understand the role of ‘awe’ in the history of religion, and the role played by the intense pictorial representations that abound in Europe’s ‘grandest’ churches, I find them stifling. For me, with my more fluid and spiritual ‘beliefs’, I look upon churches as a place of reflection, to listen, not worship. To open up my mind and let it float and bob along the vaulted marble ceilings. To let the light fill my vision, the quiet fill my ears, the votives tickle my nose…it’s just me and my tranquil soul. No queue required.