Blog 10 - my life in ruins

Blog 10 - my life in ruins

Well, the sun has set in London...actually it did at about 4pm. I'm nursing a sore wrist from a nasty ice skating incident, and it provides me with an opportunity to reflect on our time in two of the oldest civilisations in the world, Italy and Greece.

Other than the San Marcello adventure, which I still smile about, I haven't written anything since arriving in Montepulciano. We were there for three and a half weeks all up. It was the best of times and the worst of times, it was the time of high(ish) season, and then low season.

(Aspects of Montepulciano - main square, chilly morning view out our window, church of St Biagio, family!)

Or to put it more simply, it was busy for about a week with shops open and tourists flocking, and then it simply turned into a ghost town. People vacated the streets, it was a lottery whether a shop would be open. There seemed no logic about any of it. Most closed during the day for anything between 1-4 hours, usually when you needed something. It was actually slightly eerie. All that was missing were the tumbleweeds.

(San Gimingnano)

(Montalcino)

Luckily we still had a car, and managed to disappear on day trips. Orvieto was a charming city set up on a cliff with an amazing history, and a labyrinth of caves - many of them located on private property and turned into wine cellars! San Gimignano with its impressive towers, and Montalcino had a medieval festival, with drummers drumming and pipers piping. It was all pretty impressive, but fairly touristy. We also travelled to Florence and spent a few days dragging the kids around the galleries to see Michaelangelo's David (which Jessie felt she could have done - big call as he's huge), and the 60 odd rooms of the Uffizi (think that's a lot? Haven't even talked about the Vatican yet!)

(Florence's Duomo)

(Detail from the fresco - mmm, tasty)

 

Florence is beautiful and deserving of its praise. The cathedral and duomo is spectacular, with its broad view from the top, and genuinely unsettling fresco on the dome. One thing which we saw a lot of in...well, all of Europe actually, was people trying to flog those splat balls that reform into a ball when you throw them on the ground, and those rubber band catapult glowy-whirly things. They were everywhere and because we had children we were constantly badgered about buying them. It's weird gazing at the Ponte Vecchio bridge, dodging the plastic helicopters and serenaded by the thwack of a hundred splat balls... Yes I know, first world problem, but I swear there were a few vendors that were going to have their products forcibly inserted into their person.

Detour to Pisa, and for the second time for me the Leaning Tower springs up from round a corner and again I am simply in awe of it. The whole Field of Miracles (where the tower is) is stunning. We, and every other person there, took the photo pretending to hold the tower up. It really leans! A lot! Jess and I climbed it (Billie too small, had to be 9 and above, and it was the first time someone called us on it). It's hollow on the inside, interestingly.

(See, every idiot tries to hold the tower up...)

(Oh, whoops!)

 

Back in Montepulciano, Renae did a two week Italian speaking course which she enjoyed and where we met some pretty awesome people, including Susan from Florida, Lachlan from Hawaii/Seattle and wherever he is travelling next(!), and Maya from London amongst others. Some great nights spend drinking quite a lot, doing a cooking course in one of the local restaurants (probably the highlight of Montepulciano, beautiful meals created kids involved and loved it. Possibly sailed close to the edge with hygiene rules in restaurants...). Ah what else? We ran quite a bit, getting weird looks from the three locals that were on the streets at the time. Running in Tuscany was fairly sublime actually, especially as the weather was often good - looking over the ploughed fields, passing farmers picking olives. Problem was that the first leg of the running was all downhill, and the climb back to the top was a struggle.

(Cooking class - thumbs up from Billie

Jessie turned ten. It was a good birthday...sort of. While Renae went to Italian class, I took her horseriding, and she had an hour lesson and a small trail ride, which she loved. Billie however, had gastro, and stayed in the car sleeping and handing me bags of sick (yeah, sorry bout that visual). Renae made Jessie a tiramisu, her favourite. It felt strange just being the four of us, but she appreciated messages/Viber and skypes from home. And it's amazing the healing powers of equine therapy! (Billie got her horse ride a week later!)

We cut short our time in Montepulciano, partly because we wanted to start the San Marcello adventure (see blog 9), but also, frankly, we felt we'd seen all there was to see. We loved the guys we met from the Italian class, but didn't feel at all part of the community, which I know Renae wanted, and was in a way the driver for us going (ah yes, the year in the villa in Tuscany). It is hard when you say buongiorno, and if they reply with anything other than how are you or where is the laundromat, then you're pretty much rooted.

But it was spectacularly beautiful.

Moving forward, like you do, after the euphoria of San Marcello wore off, I drove 6 hours down the guts of Italy to honour a promise to my youngest. As we were brainstorming "things we want to see and do in Europe" at home before we left (as a means of fast tracking through the grief cycle so it wasn't all sadness and anger when we left), Billie really just had one wish.

To see Pompeii...

Pompeii the town is not special or in any way pretty. Its about 100 metres off the main highway. The drivers around Pompeii were like all Italian drivers - psychotic and with a cavalier attitude towards road rules. Our hotel was like an oasis though and I rate it highly...in fact on Trip Advisor I rated it highly.

(Pompeii, and that's Vesuvius in the background)

So in the morning we were accosted by the typical tour companies and got sucked in to an audioguide for Pompeii (worth it) and a tour of Vesuvius (so not worth it). But Pompeii, was as surreal as expected. The old houses, shops and baths, the cobblestoned streets, the clumps of tour groups led by over exuberant guides thrusting an umbrella or flower in the air and walking with an odd sense of purpose from place to place. It was eerily quiet too. There was something morbid about how much my kids wanted to see the petrified bodies too!

Jess was uneasy the whole time in Pompeii thinking that Vesuvius (which loomed menacingly(?) in the distance) was going to pick that day to erupt. So imagine how thrilled she was when we went up there and gaped into the big steaming chasm of its mouth? Cool to say we'd seen it. Great view of Milan in all it's dirty expansive glory. But it was freezing and, believe it or not, we had to get in the car and drive to Rome!

(Mt Vesuvius. You can just see the fear in Jessie's eyes)

And we were doing so well, Renae as navigator and me as driver. We worked out all the on and off ramps, the hysterical signs that the Italians have that may show a place name with arrows in two directions, or one sign, one arrow and sixteen place names.

We made the airport needing to drop the car off and refuel it. We did not pass a service station! We then left the airport looking for one, and it was only when I DROVE UP A ONE WAY STREET THE WRONG WAY that we found one. (Admittedly, I didn't know it was one way, but at least I felt I'd arrived as an Italian driver!)

By this time it was way to late, we'd all had too much day, and a nice taxi drove us to our hotel (great location and great hotel actually) and we collapsed.

(Pantheon)

(Trevi fountain)

(Erm, the Flavian Amphitheatre)

BUT NOT FOR LONG. When you're in the Eternal City, you gotta make each day count! So, Trevi fountain - check, Pantheon - check, Colusseum (sorry Billie, Flavian amphitheatre, as she will correct you about it's correct name) - check, shop that has over 150 flavours of Gelati - check! (Mmm, try basil flavour, it's yummy!)

Best line of Rome? Billie is used to being called 5/6/7/8, depending on whether there's a discount for young kids, or a minimum age for entry (eg a ride). Colosseum is free for kids only from EU countries, so as we lined up, Billie sidled over and whispered "Dad, how old do I have to be today?" And I replied "You can be 7, but you have to be British!"

St. Peter's was closed as there was a special mass on, so we zipped around the corner and wound our way through the Vatican Museum. It was not overly crowded, and the kids got a special treasure hunt audio guide that made them hunt down specific art works, with a commentary that was more Horrible Histories than Stuffy Professor, and this distracted than from the fact that they probably walked the equivalent of a half marathon on the day!

(Vatican, St Peter's...maybe God...)

Sistine Chapel roof is amazing, the whole Chapel is actually superb. The modern art was incredible, the Egyptian artefacts were impressive, the art of Raphael was my highlight (studied the School of Athens at school, so it was like meeting a celebrity...okay that's a bit sad I know). Was a great day.

The Roman Forum makes you pause, even the kids were impressed with the sense of history all around.

I love Rome, it was always my favourite city outside Australia, but I don't know if it was a combination of being ripped off, general Italian beaurocracy (try sending a parcel home, it makes you want to cry), f$&#*ng splat balls or just 4 months of travelling, but I was happy to leave. Sadly, I left my diary there that I'd been using to record my "observations" to help with the blog. (Hotel found it, it's been on-forwarded)

We had about 6 days in Athens - possibly either less or more than we should have had. Longer and we would have done an island like Santorini for a week, shorter and we would have done the highlights package and moved on.

As it was, we did a "hop on hop off" bus tour, which gave you a nice perspective of the place. We went to the Parthenon/Acropolis, which was impressive and also gave you a spectacular view of the sprawl that is Athens. But it was all also HEAVILY under construction, and it was a bit like a Parthenon Transformer, ready to evolve into some monster truck.

(Parthenon - scaffolding strategically hidden)

We shopped, got our Christmas presents posted off! Our accommodation was a cheap four bedroom place in a slightly salubrious part of Athens. The owners mother snuck in at 7.30 and made us breakfast - just bread, jam and coffee, but it was really appreciated.

The people of Greece clearly were feeling the hardship, but remained one of the nicest people we've met to date. Friendly, interested, great with the girls. But we'd had four months in countries that did not have English as their primary language, no TV - no good TV (but even English TV is debatable in that respect). We were exhausted physically from being constantly on the move and cerebrally from the language barriers we continually butted up against.

Sorry Greece it's not you, it's me. It is a country I want to come back to and do differently. Properly, and do it justice.

(From Mt Lykabettus, afternoon)

(Dusk...)

(Night)

This is where I'll leave you, mid-air heading towards Heathrow (yes I know I'm here now, it's for dramatic effect. Just go with it). There's no in flight movie, so I have drunk two mini bottles of Shiraz. Renae deep in conversation with the lady beside her and I can't tell if they are loving the company or just wishing the other would shut up!

The girls are tired. They are ready for a country where people speak English.

So til next blog, arriverderci, au revoir, auf wiedersehen, hasta la vista...baby!

From the Carolinvandenbergs

 

 

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Blog 9 - special edition. Special mission in Tuscany

Blog 9 - special edition. Special mission in Tuscany

 

PART 1:

My grandfather was a navigator and Flight Sergeant for the 454 Air Squadron in World War II. In August 1944 he was stationed in Falconara in Tuscany, where rain and glutinous mud was the norm. On 23rd of August the squadron was to carry out a "routine" bombing of a munitions factory in Limestre, just out of San Marcello Pistoese. Heavy flak was encountered and of the four in my grandfather's plane, three "hit the silk", narrowly avoiding the propellors and parachuted to land. One was not so lucky, and two other planes from the squadron were also lost that night

My grandfather, wounded, landed "on his bum" on a cleared hill, stowed his parachute in a blackberry bush and searched for shelter. He found a small house where a young man tended to his wounds, as well as those of the pilot, who was wounded on the leg and limping.

My grandfather was soon captured by soldiers from the Herman Goering division, who (it's said) had a healthy respect for Australian soldiers, having encountered the 4th AIF in Crete.

He was transported to Germany and after lengthy interrogations, and four and a half months hospitalisation, was used by the German High Command as special aircrew POW, handy for hostage bargaining.

Then on 19th January 1945 he commenced a three week, 165 mile "march", in atrocious rain and ice, with little comfort, food or care. (Many lives were lost along the way). They travelled away from the Russians and towards the advancing Western Allies, and were again used as bargaining tools in an effort to get "improved surrender terms".

He was eventually liberated by the Russians and handed over to the British. My grandfather was reunited with the pilot in the UK. They actually remained close friends and lived near to each other both in Melbourne and on the NSW coast until their deaths. The pilot, Keith, in 1999. My grandfather, Sam, in 2001. My grandfather kept a journal of his war experiences, and this is now on record at the Australian War Memorial.

 

PART 2:

So, stuff happened after that! Wives and children and grandchildren. And in 1973, my grandfather made a bit of a pilgrimage back to San Marcello Pistoese to try to find his "bum print" where he landed. He recounts his "journey" in a (very) detailed letter to his sister, which he wrote sitting up in bed at the Giardini Hotel in San Marcello Pistoese.

He enlisted the help of a local man who spoke reasonable English, and with a lot of gesturing and sound effects, managed to convey his story. There were several false leads and dead ends, but by the end of the few days, he not only was able to locate the site of the field where he landed, but he found the man who, in 1944, treated his wounds!

In his letter he describes the elation he felt in finding all of this, as well as the amazing generosity and hospitality of his translator and his family.

 

PART 3:

More stuff happened after that. Wives and children and grandchildren...and great-grandchildren.

We as family heard parts of these experiences, but as many who return from war, my grandfather didn't talk much about it. I never read his diary until after he passed away, which I regret.

When we knew we were travelling to Tuscany, we decided to go to San Marcello Pistoese to try to retrace my grandfather's steps and in some way add our small piece to this puzzle. I was not optimistic, given 1944 and 1973 were not exactly the Information Age, but I was fortunate to be provided the letter that he wrote his sister in '73, so that was better than nothing. (Thanks Bev!)

So armed with this crumpled yellow document, we started in the only place that made sense, the Hotel Giardini in San Marcello Pistoese. It was still there in its late 60/early70 grandeur. We actually went in looking for a coffee, but the proprietor was there and in a terrible broken Italian/English, I explained the story of '44 and '73. She had only had the hotel about 10 years, but when I mentioned the name of the translator, Emilio Innocenti, she brightened, and thought she knew his cousin. She went off to make a phone call...

Twenty minutes later, in walked the man who, in 1973, drove my grandfather around San Marcello and surrounds looking for a cleared field!

Emilio Innocenti was mid-70s and could pass for twenty years younger. He runs every day, has a son and a daughter, and taught my children the trick where it looks as though you can take your thumb off. He remembered my grandfather well and the time they spent together in 1973. He particularly recalled him injecting himself (he was a diabetic, and this later led to double amputations below the knee) as well as his love for red wine! His English had lapsed to the point that we could barely communicate but it didn't really matter. We were all quite emotional...except Billie and Jessie, they just seemed bewildered by the complexity of the emotion. It was pretty hard to explain to be fair.

Presumptuously, I asked him if he could remember the field where he took my grandfather, and if he could take us there. He said he wasn't at all sure, but agreed to meet us in an hour's time.

Emilio drove around the winding countryside with a confidence that terrified me, but we ended up in a place called Le Piastre (again, thanks to my grandfather's attention to detail). There was a lot of "hmm...no...think THINK..." but nothing conclusive.

We had the name of the gentleman who saved my grandfather, and we stopped to see if anyone knew if the family lived in the area still. An old lady suggested some directions, and after a few false trails ourselves we found ourselves at Casa Isola, a B&B in Le Piastre. We knocked, a middle aged man answered. Emilio conveyed the story. The man smiled and nodded and urged us to follow.

So Renae, the girls, Emilio and I entered the kitchen of the house and sitting at the table was Dolfiero, the man who, in 1944, saved my grandfather's life.

He is now 86, and following two broken hips, is very frail. His mind has stated to fail in the last year but it was clear that he understood who we were, as did his wife Isola (hence the name of the B&B), who recounted and reminisced with Emilio. She recalled the limping man.

The son then brought out a letter my grandfather wrote to them, as well as a photo of Dolfiero and Emilio together, and my grandfather standing beside the field where he landed. Many photos were taken, tears were shed. Myths were debunked (the propellor wasn't found over their fireplace. They had a lot of his kit, but this was confiscated by the police, and much of it was sent to Germany.)

Dolfiero kept asking us where we were from. There was a lot of "Venga dall'Australia, no parla Italiano". I showed him the photo of my grandfather and explained "Mi nonno". I think he got it.

The photo the son showed us immediately made finding the field a lot easier. In fact, I recalled passing it while we were tearing around the Tuscan countryside. So we got out, took photos. I stood where he stood in '73 when I was two years old. Me now with greyer hair, wearing pants not shorts...

We later had a drink at Emilio's house. I could not convey to him my gratitude, but I do also think that he enjoyed both the adventure and the reminiscence.

It's difficult to describe the feeling I had that day. It was quite unlike anything I'd felt before. I walk away from San Marcello Pistoese with a flimsy sticky taped yellow letter (who'd have thought it wouldn't survive TWO photocopying attempts!), a profound love and debt of gratitude for Renae, who pushed me to do this when I was thinking of backing out, digital photos and email addresses (for this is the Information Age), and a greater sense of perspective about family, and stuff in general...

The Hotel Giardini

Emilio Innocenti: translator, children's entertainer...

Letter from my grandfather to his sister Peg - sorry! A victim of progress...

Me, Dolfiero, his son, his wife Isola, Emilo

Dolfiero and Emilio - then and now

The letter from my grandfather to Dolfiero, and the field where he landed

The field today

 

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ITALY

ITALY

Hello everyone we are finally in Italy,

We went back to Split to catch a ferry to Ancona in Italy!!!!! We had uncomfortable beds and me and Billie thought we were going to fall off the two top bunks.

When in Ancona we dumped our luggage. (Not on the streets, in the luggage rack) we wanted to go to the cathedral, well mum and dad wanted to. But that got too hard (yes) we didn't get of at the right bus stop then when we did would have had to wait about 30 minutes and we had to catch a train in 50 minutes.

We got on the train safely and we went to VENICE it is soooooo cool but everything is sooooooo expensive.

 

 

 

 

And wait for it, we went on a gondola it was very pretty an amazing. Did you know that all first floors a abandon because they flood!!! Billie thought it was funny when the gondolier had to duck to get under the bridge. You can easily get lost down little side streets. Even whith a map. We did.

 

 

We then caught a train to milan ''the shopping city'' mum loved it but Billie and I thought it was boring we hate shopping though mum and I spent almost $300 on new water proof boots. (not each)

One night we went to get home but our train line was on strike and we had to wait 30 minutes for a taxi because they were so busy with the strike. Dad picked up a guitar!!!

We picked up another car and drove to mongedoro (in emelio romano) where we had a place where we went horse riding!

 

It was the best feeling to go riding again. At the place we were staying they set up archery for us. Mum was the best and me and Billie were terrible. Dad lost three arrows in the bush but we found them.

 

 

 

 

We also rode a donkey called Elnestro

 

 

 

 

We then went to monterpulciano but more about that next time.

Written by Jessie

By Jess and Bill

 

Moooo

 

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Blog 8 - ...and breathe...

Blog 8 - ...and breathe...

Ciao from Italy everyone!! Three months in and time for, as the Amazing Race would say, a mandatory rest period. We are in Montepulciano, in the Tuscan countryside, living the dream and reinforcing the stereotype. We arrived a few days ago to piercing blue sky and sunshine and an amazing view from our apartment stretching for miles over the ploughed fields...and this morning we couldn't see further than 5 metres as the fog had rolled in. It rolled on about 4pm...fog likes to hang around.

We are here for a month in an apartment that is cosy and rustic (read that however you like), but the town itself is sublime.

(Sunset Montepulciano)

So anyway, speaking of Bosnia Herzegovina as we weren't...

Mostar was quite a place and we feel lucky to have experienced it the way we did. We saw the beauty of the bridge as discussed in the last blog, but we shared an experience with the hostel owner we won't ever forget. We spent a day with another Australian couple and Miran (owner of Hostel Miran...I know, surprising) who drove us around Mostar and parts of Herzegovina. We visited Počitelj, with its old ruins, and waterfalls in the Neretva Valley equally as nice as Plitviče Lakes, only with no tourists. We went to the sheer bizarro-world that is Medugorije. Thirty odd years ago, five kids got lost in the hills near the city, and apparently Mary came to them and said "Hi, I live here. Just head down the hill and you'll be right, tell them I said hi". (I'm giving you the wikipedia-esque version). Well they got back to town and told the people what had happened, and now it is an absolute Mecca (okay that's a terribly inappropriate choice of metaphor) for Christians all over Europe to come, pray, buy a plastic rosary or key chain or t-shirt (my favourite had Jesus, arms out on the cross with a caption "I love you this much", I kid you not!).

(Mostar -the Bridge)

(...and the bullet holes)

We then dodged and left the scores of buses and went on to Blagaj to a dervish house (as in the whirling dervishes - and Irma that means I tick off everything you said I should see!!!)

(Aw, noice!)

But after that, on a more serious note, we wound our way up the hill behind Mostar to the front lines of the 90's war. We stood in the Bosnian bunkers, we picked up bits of shrapnel and bullet shells, we saw where the Serbian army were placed. Miran told us his story, how as a 15 year old he would climb the hill from Mostar to the front line asking for food from the sympathetic Serbian troops, even trying to negotiate weapons for soldiers in Mostar. He told us of neighbours meeting each other as enemies in the trenches, he described (as best he could) the three way struggle between the Croatian, Serbian and Bosnian forces. Later he showed us home movies of his family sitting in the house we were sitting in, chatting, as rifle fire and mortar shells whirred around them. Footage of his grandfather talking to camera, and who died two weeks after it was filmed from a sniper bullet, was hard to watch.

There are a lot of reasons why we wanted to take this trip as a family and this in a way was one of them. The chance to meet Miran and for him to share his and his family's story with us has made us all the richer because of it. I won't forget it.

(Bosnian bunker and no mans land)

On to Split...again. Surprisingly not unlike the way it was when we were there a few weeks earlier. We washed, we skyped, weather wasn't great. We did have a great day on the island of Brač, where we hired bikes and pedalled around parts of the island. One of the few islands that we could actually get to. Much of Croatia, indeed much of Europe, tends to put the shutters down after the 1st of October. Ferries either stop or go very rarely, and we've had several instances of finding literally nowhere to eat! But I think even the post office serves beer, so that was okay!

(Supetar, port of Brač)

(Sunset over Brač)

Then we jumped on an overnight ferry that smoothly lulled us across the Adriatic from Split to Ancona and here we are in Italy!

Spent about three hours in Ancona, enough time I thought to scream up to the cool cathedral on the hill. Sadly the public transport gods again conspired against us. Shouldn't ve said what I said about Medugorije...

Then on to my new pick for BEST CITY IN THE WORLD!!! Not the cheapest or most liveable, not easiest to get around, certainly not the least smelly, but VENICE is simply amazing. I loved it from the minute I fell off the train lugging my 40kg backpack. Kids were whining...but it didn't matter because we were in Venice!

 

(Aspects of Venice)

Our apartment was in a great spot, only 500 meters from St Marks square...or 200 meters if you go the right way first time. Everywhere you looked was a photo opportunity and every time of the day provided a different nuance of light, shade and colour, be it an alleyway or the Grand Canal. St Marks square and the Riva outside it were fascinating for its insane amount of tourists (yes yes, I'm a tourist too...) and vendors selling crap, but there were paths you could walk where you wouldn't see another soul for 10 minutes.

 

Appropriately, we ate pizza and gelati. Billie ate Quattro Formaggi (4 cheeses) pizza till her nose bled...no, really. We drank cappuccinos and hot chocolate that was like syrup. We remortgaged the house and went on a gondola ride. It was early morning, city was waking up, sun was out taking some of the chill off the day. I'd tell you it wasn't worth it, but I'd be lying.

 

We spent two days at the Venice Biennale. Putting it simply, it's an art exhibition where countries exhibit work (or works) from an artist (or artists) in some of the beautiful parks and buildings around Venice. The works ranged from the beautiful and clever (New Zealand and Bahamas, well done you - got the CVDB votes) to the downright freaking odd (hello...Romania). It was a chance for the girls to reassess what they thought art was...and then decide that much of what there was wasn't actually art!!! Here's a snapshot, with no explanations...wouldn't want to make it easy for you!

(Latvia -the tree swings up and down...that ought to help...)

(New Zealand - put Oz to shame!)

(Russia - he's shelling peanuts and eating them...of course he is!)

(Romania - more performance art)

(Part of the Netherlands exhibit)

We've been to lots of cities and towns, but Venice was honestly the first I felt sad about leaving. But leave we did, and on we went by train to Milan. Ironically one of the goals was to see daVinci's Last Supper, and if we were planning to visit in early 2014, that probably would have worked out fine, what with the six week waiting list for tickets and all...

So we went to the Duomo instead and walked on the top of the roof. That was cool. The building is very ornate and Renae questioned what the son of a carpenter would think of it. We shopped, as you apparently do in Milan. There were a million shoe shops. Renae was in heaven, I was in one of the seven levels of hell so dragged the girls with me and went off to buy a guitar!!! Milan was underwhelming. (Sorry Milan, I know you spoke highly of the Carolin Vandenbergs, let's just be friends!)

 

And now we have a car again. It's a Peugeot...its a manual...it has no GPS...

We spent three days in the region of Emilia-Romagno, home of bolognese sauce, Parmesan cheese, Parma ham...all those disgusting things! After deciding that eating at the third-best restaurant in the world (in Modena) was never going to work with kids (expensive, and they were likely to turn their noses up at candied calf tongue with aniseed foam and ask for chicken nuggets), we booked a farm stay just out of a town called Monghidoro.

It had horse riding and archery, so I reckon we have brownie points with the kids for a while. The owners also ran a working farm 200m up the road, and we had a chance to watch them milk and learn about their lives too. The patriarch of the family invited us in and showed us photos of his family. Luckily one of the family members could interpret, but there was lots of smiling and gesturing anyway! We have been fortunate to meet so many kind and generous people so far.

And then we drove to where we are now, and where we'll be for nearly a month. Kids have done homework every day, and again, we have clean clothes. Car is parked, belongings are put into drawers (it's amazing how good that feels!). Doing overnighter to Florence next week (to go to the Uffizi and see that big statue guy with the big doodle...), and day trips to San Gimingnano, Siena, Pisa, and San Marcello Pistoese where my grandfather was shot down in WW2. On the quest to find a propellor!!

Jessie's done all the Harry Potters now and looking for a new challenge (I'm thinking Chronicles of Narnia). Billies got a bit of a natural flair for language, and we have found a new strategy to get her eating anything other than chocolate and cheese...blindfolding!

Renae plans to do an Italian language course (vital, as she collared a local holding her phrase book wanting to ask where the post office was. Confused looks. Took Jessie to casually mention to her that she was asking in Polish...).

And I have a guitar now, and a bad haircut. Interesting experience trying to convey what you want done when you speak very little Italian and they speak no English. But hey, we all know the difference between a bad haircut and a good one...

Lots of love to all. RIP Peggo the Bee.

Arrivederci from the EuropeanCaravans

 

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