Monday 30 July 2012

Cutie pies and ancient ruins

Day two. Rome.

So the lift to my hostel is quite possibly the cutest thing in the world. It's probably big enough for one person and you have to open and close the doors yourself (inside and out) before it will move. I love it. I've named it Maria. I'd love to ride up and down in Maria all day, but I wouldn't get to see much of Rome though, would I?

Spent all night awake. It seems I've found the three loudest snoorers in Rome and decided to share a room with them. No matter. Bought some ear plugs for tonight.

Eventually got up and out by about 11am and started to walk towards 'Ancient Rome' but after 3 minutes found a taxi and got it to take me there instead. Rome is bigger than you think

Now, I'm going to discuss the Italians and driving...

Firstly. Every street, no matter how big or small, within the city limits is cobbled. Every one. So no ride, ever is comfortable. I can imagine in your own car, it's unpleasant, but in a taxi, it's quite frankly one of the most uncomfortable and petrifying things I've ever been put through.

The Italians have a saying about traffic lights, if it's green, you go, if it's amber, you go, and if it's red, you go if you're late. Seriously.

The taxi driver was called Anthony. He was a nice chap, if a little short. (In way of manners, not height)

So anyway. He dropped me off at Capitoline Hill which is the place where the Italians have what they call their national alter. It's in front of Piazza Venezia. Honestly one of the most incredible marble buildings I've ever seen. Brilliant white, so white, that you have to wear sunglasses whether you want to or not.

From there I skirted around the back (no jokes please) of the Forum of Augustus and past Mussolini's bedroom window.... (they don't let you go in apparently) and then wondered down a side street to find somewhere for lunch.

There were loads of little outside cafes offering the same menu at the same price, so the choice was a little overwhelming but I eventually picked Botegga del Caffè. It has olive trees growing around the seating area so there's enough of a breeze, but enough privacy from the passing tourists. Beautiful

Obviously I had chips

Joke, I had ricotta and spinach ravioli with some devine focaccia bread, topped off with a (very) large glass of the coldest, crispiest pinot grigio I've ever tasted. The waiter offered me an English menu, and when I refused and asked for the Italian one, he smiled a little. Gave him a bigger tip for that smile, a sort of 'thanks for making the effort to speak Italian' smile. Lovely.

Onwards from lunch to the Roman Forum, Palatine Hill and the Colosseum.

The Forum was great. Very historic. As in, not just old, but you could see how the younger generations had just built on top of the older. The Rostra, where Marc-Anthony would address his friends, stands at the north end of the forum. It's modest, and understated but some how commands perfect authority. Right next to it is the funeral pyre remains of Julius Caesar. They've put a 'roof' on top of it to stop the rain washing it away, but you have to ask, if it lasted this long, why won't it last the same again... Also, it never rains in Rome.

The climb up Palatine hill, at 1pm, in 38 degree heat was bloody difficult. I am in fact writing this at the top of the hill because the climb has about killed me. Snowdon has nothing on Palatine. Right at the top of the hill there's what said to be the oldest orchid garden in Europe. I'm not one for orchids, but this was gorgeous.

Back down the hill to the Colosseum.

Quite frankly. I could sit here (in the Colosseum) and try and explain to you the immense and incredible size and atmosphere. But, even though I'd try, I wouldn't be able to.

To think that so many men died here at the literal expense of pure entertainment is sickening, yet also kind of awe inspiring. For someone to command another to death so men can pay and 'have a laugh' is wrong, yes, but look how it worked for the Romans. They controlled the masses through entertainment, shock and awe and an inevitable 'you could end up down there'

There have been loads of films shot here, but there are too many to list. Amongst my favourite is Jumper. With Hayden Christiansen. The queues in that shot are probably real. If I hadn't bought a ticket earlier in the day, the queue time was 4 hours. Shocking. But really, well worth it when you get in here.

Just been asked to take a picture for a lovey French couple. I used my GCSE French, finally, in Italy. Ironic, no?

So the temperature is now approaching 40 degrees in the sun, about 32 degrees in the shade which is where I seem to migrate to subconsciously at any given moment.

Found myself a nice little Trattoria for dinner. Lasagne to start. Veal for main. Gelato, of course, for dessert.

I really must stop eating like this.

The wine this waitress brought me was quite frankly vile. However, once I'd found out it was table wine, and that a half bottle costs the same as £3.45 I ordered a second...

The first full day alone was really nice. Of course I'd love to have someone here with me (TRAIN TRAIN TRAIN) but ya know, needs must.

Wondered home the long way through the Vatican. It's so beautiful at night. Can't wait to see it in the day light. A nice Nun gave me a blessing as I left the square. I was probably as shocked as you were that we both didn't burst into flames. But there you go

So for day two... Ciao and buona notte.

Not sure how long I can hold up with one blog a day, or if you'll even keep reading.

Love, lovies.

Saturday 21 July 2012

This is it

In the immortal words of Whitesnake, Here I go again on my own.

Saturday 28th July

Cheated a bit and got a lift to Loughborough train station from one of my best friends. Very emotional send off. Did my best to hold it together

Said goodbye to the fridge and kettle (my favourite appliances) the dog and Mum and Dad...

Such a lovely day. The sun is shining and I've never been so nervous in all my life, kind of

This blog kind of goes over two days because while I'm saying goodbye to my friends and family today, tomorrow I fly and say goodbye to Henry (at the airport obviously).

Sunday 29th July

Getting to the airport was alright. Getting through check in was alright. Getting to security was fine. Letting go of Henry wasn't. If I'd have looked back, I'd have balled my eyes out. The security guy asked if I was alright. I clearly wasn't. Dick.

Didn't set the metal detector off as well. Well proud. It seems odd that they don't let you use mobile phones in the security bit. The knives thing I get, but phones. Still....

Departures is an odd place. Suppose I should get used to departure 'lounges' which in fact, aren't lounges at all. My lounge at home has a carpet, and a big TV and comfortable sofas. This 'lounge' has plastic lino flooring, metal seats and the TV only shows flight information. Rubbish

Total mind blank....

My flights delayed. By at least an hour. Typical. Just what I need to make myself less nervous. Scheduled departure was 14.05, now it's supposed to be departing at 14.20. Didn't expect this from BA. Honestly. I might strike :p

Smiley in a blog. Really Oliver?

Referring to ones self in third person, really?

Oh lord. Flight delayed again until 15.12 but didn't actually takeoff until 4pm. Quite funny because it took only 5 minutes to get over Brighton. The pier looked lovely from 10,000 feet. I've attached a generic 'aeroplane wing photo' in case you all wondered what they looked like.

As I write this, the enormity of what I've done has hit me. I'm leaving the known, the safe, everything, to go in search of something, when I don't even know what it looks like, or indeed if it exists.

Someone asked me a week ago if I was nervous. The answer is probably no. I'm not nervous of leaving. I'm nervous of not finding what I'm looking for. I'm sure you're all reading this thinking 'you pretentious f***er' but the truth is, I'm so nervous, that to stay, would only make it worse.

I went through a horrible five minutes in the departure lounge, just before I had a little word with myself, where I considered, just for a second, walking back through the security gates, getting in a taxi and giving my home address. Once i'd realised it would probably cost about £600, I quickly had a rethink.

I've rambled, and number one rule of blogging is not to ramble. Coincidentally, rule number two is not to mention rule number one.

Just had my complimentary sandwich. Someone care to explain the milk?! (picture attached)

So for now. I'll say ciao. Not strictly in Rome yet, but I'm as good as. Unless someone goes ballistic on the plane and we end up being forced to land in some godforsaken French town somewhere, where the only way to communicate with the locals is hand signals and noises, the next stop is Italy and the adventure, (again, I'm being pretentious) begins.

Much love

Kinda more stuff

Guess who...

So, finally got the trip from Moscow to Beijing sorted through a company called Real Russia. It might have cost me £2,500 but they've sorted out the VISAs and all the transport and hotels and stuff. The guys name was Igor. And I assure you, if I have any problems while I'm in Russia I'll be calling him straight away..... Igor, you have been warned.

So I spilt coffee on Mum's new carpet and new cushions today. She went MENTAL, but once I'd said "I'm going away, you'll miss me when I'm gone" she calmed down straight away. We'll see how many times I can use that before it gets old. I shall call it "the travel card"...

Had some more injections this week too. Rabies, Hepatitis B and Typhoid, and let me tell you, they are no joke. The best part was when I couldn't stand up without shaking. This is all normal apparently, personally, I think the nurse gave me a double dose to kill me. Bitch always gives me evils.

The NHS has gone to pot.

This blog has been a bit different. I've been writing it through the week, adding to it as I went through things, and then posted it at the end of the week. I suppose it's what I'll have to do while I'm away. I won't particularity have wifi unless I pay for it so I'll have to write it through the week and send all my emails and tweets and blogs and texts in one go. (Tweeps, it'll mean I'll fill your feed up and then disappear into oblivion, which, ironically, is the story of my life).

Also, if any of you 12 people that read this want to comment on what I post, that's fine, feel free. I won't charge you for it...

Had my leaving BBQ at home. Mum had a cake made for me. I about cried when I saw it. Another thing to just point out, my Grandparents, despite telling me they weren't going to, have given me money. Quite a large amount. Not really sure how I dealt with it. But, erm........ Yeah. Well. I actually cried when they gave it to me.

Anyhoo, with a week to go, I'm really starting to get nervous now, BIG TIME. So if anyone wants to give me lots of support and love, that'd be great.

See you soon baby boys and girls

Monday 9 July 2012

20 days...

Yup... that's how long. 20 days. FUCK.

So, I've bought everything that I'm taking with me now. I think. No, I'm pretty sure. Had all of my jabs, except Rabies and the last Hepatitis B, which is nice.

On the subject of infectious diseases, Yellow Fever was my favourite. It felt like I had someone behind my eyes with a chisel. Quite pleasant really. So if anyone ever offers you some Yellow Fever, just say no. You hear me guys.

SAY NO TO INFECTIOUS DISEASES.

Say yes to drugs (the ones that save you from the infectious diseases). Also, I'm an expert on Tropical diseases... will exchange advice for money.

Enough of the dying business.

Now, back to packing. I've filled and unfilled my bag twice now, and it weighs 18kg. I have a limit of 22kg. This is good, or shall I fill it with more clothes? Thoughts?

On a homely note, Mr Murray lost on Sunday... that was a shame wasn't it. I sat in Duke of Yorks Square and got rained on. It was fun. Although I did like how before he lost he was "the first British man to reach the final..." etc, but when once he'd lost he was all of a sudden Scottish, not British.

Oh the fickle British public.

I wonder if the Scottish Independence referendum will go the same way as Andy's tennis competition... all the way to the final, and then fail miserably under the pressure of the general public...

I joke. Andy Murray did wonderfully. Next year, hey?

Some people would read this and entirely think I am not funny, interesting or witty. I'm trying you guise! Think I'll become a travel writer. We'll see.

Twitter update, 1,100 viewers... going to miss some people from it. A lot.

Not really been much about travelling in this post, well, this blog. On a blog, is it a post, or do you blog on a blog, or post on a blog. I don't even know.

Until next time...

x