travelswithalice

May 31, 2018

Johannesburg

SPOILER ALERT!

The next few days are devoted to intensive resting, boning up on African history to try and make sense of what’s happening today, weather watching, and moon watching.

I’ve set my alarm for this.

_{A wonky late-rising moon over Johannesburg.}

Day 1

Do you mind if we go off the freeway, sir?

I’m wondering why the driver wanted us to come this way.

Okay, the freeway is busy. It’s early morning, so people will be on their way to work. Streets off the freeway are busy too. Lots of nice cars- our airport pick up is a gleaming late model Mercedes SUV.

There are many pedestrians presumably on their way to work. There are also people sitting on pavements and on street corners. It’s hard not to notice that there are no white people on the streets.

Our hotel is located in Sandton, the new business and financial center that the country’s big corporations have fled to, to escape the urban decay of Johannesburg’s CBD.

Originally consisting of rural farms and grassy estates of the “horsey” Town & Country types, today’s residential Sandton is cocooned behind high walls and tall fences topped with barbed wire.

At the Sandton Hilton, a word of caution:

And just in case you missed that, here’s another:

And I thought it was the lions I had to watch out for!

Day 2

I’m really not feeling up to a safari just yet. I guess jetlag from last week’s Europe trip with Annette has collided with an epic case of gastritis, leaving me feeling wiped out. Not actually sick yet, but well on my way. Which is why we’ve decided to hole up in Johannesburg for a few days while I sort myself out.

Day 3

After sleeping almost continuously for two days, drinking gallons of water, and eating next to nothing, I’m feeling much better.

Day 4

I find it difficult to imagine how the culture of injustice, violence, and degradation that this country’s indigenous peoples have been subjected to could result in anything other than the terrible backlash against the perceived perpetrators that is now threatening to further tear this brutalized land apart.

Looking back on the day we arrived, the cavernous airport was noticeably lacking in activity. Airport personnel seemed to outnumber passengers.

Day 5

_{Sandton at 9am is shrouded in fog. At 7 degrees, it feels like 4.}

Stories that come out of Africa always manage to pulsate, to throb, to go on forever. They are inveterate storytellers, the Africans. Stuart always comes back from breakfast loaded with life stories of the staff.

Even discounting for the inevitable differentness, the foreignness of the names of people and places, theirs seem designed to be spoken.

Which of course is part of the reason why I feel wildly excited that I’m soon to be in Mala Mala, or in Zambia- to say Livingstone doesn’t give the same thrill, or in Botswana, in Meno a Kwena.

Labels: South Africa

posted by Alice Dimalanta Jones # May 31, 2018

May 28, 2018

Annette’s Rome, part 2.

Monday

Annette and I are back in Rome, and after the best-forgotten San Donato, we are happily ensconced in the Rome Cavalieri.

On the way to dinner at the restaurant downstairs, the sound of piano music in Tiepolo Bar draws us in. Never mind dinner, this is better! We order sandwiches and sit at the bar for hours, listening to one of the best bluesy jazz singers I’ve heard in a long time.

Tuesday

We’re to spend the day with Maurizio but he’s delayed by the rain and arrives too late to join us for breakfast.

It’s raining heavily and the hotel shuttle service goes all wrong, so the concierge has generously paid for our taxi into the Centro. Luckily for us, the driver takes a different route to the usual stop in Piazza Barberini and we’re conveniently dropped off at the Vatican. We pick up our tickets for tomorrow‘s Papal Audience and go to lunch.

We have gelato at Sublime while waiting for the rain to stop. It doesn’t stop; it starts to rain hailstones. Fortunately, we’re just steps from Hotel Conciliazione where we wait for our taxi away from the rain.

Back in Cavalieri, the weather perversely does a 180-turn on us; the sun comes out and beckons us to come out too.

Maurizio however has decided that all this is temporary. “Look at those clouds! They look white and harmless but they’ll soon turn into rain clouds,” he warns.

We have an easy lazy afternoon instead, holed up in the Imperial Club, watching the day’s highlights of the Italian Open on TV, talking about friends and family, and reminiscing happy times with our dear Margarita.

Wednesday

We set off early for St Peter’s with a packed breakfast courtesy of the hotel.

We’re in the presence of the Pope, we listen to his homily, we join him in praying the Our Father in Latin, and we have our various religious articles blessed. With the sun beating down mercilessly on the faithful, the Popemobile circles the packed square, causing the crowds to rush about, moving in waves like flocks of starling, drawn by the magnetism of this most beloved of holy men.

Later, we join the queue waiting to go inside the basilica. The vast square starts to empty. Wedding parties have photoshoots. Brides beam in full bridal regalia, tottering precariously on regulation white stilettos on the ancient paving stones. The more sensible ones are wearing sneakers with their frothy gowns.

All of a sudden, our orderly queue starts disintegrating and we’re being swept along by a mad rush as the basilica doors are thrown open.

It’s quite amazing, this Vatican side of the Rome experience. It’s also quite startling, seeing up close the changing nature of religious devotion. I was here with my mother several years ago. It felt different then.

Thursday

On our last day in Rome, a hotel limousine makes quick and easy, and luxuriously pleasurable, Annette’s much delayed tour of the sights.

Luigi, our driver cum history professor cum bodyguard expertly shoehorns Annette and me into the inevitable throngs massing around the venerable monuments of ancient Rome.

In the evening, we catch our flight home. Arrivederci Roma! ❤️

Labels: Rome Cavalieri

posted by Alice Dimalanta Jones # May 28, 2018

May 21, 2018

Two days in Montepulciano with Annette

Saturday

Early start for our weekend in Montepulciano. Taxi to Roma Tiburtina Station, train to Chiusi, bus to Montepulciano, and finally, shuttle bus to Centro.

The shuttle bus driver points out our hotel, the Palazzo Carletti before pulling up at the bus stop a few feet away.

We’re at the source of our current favourite wine.

After dinner at the Gattavecchi Winery, the owner’s son Maurizio Valente takes us to the wine cellar. He tells us his grandfather invented the Montepulciano Nobile wine. Actually, he invented the name that made the wine famous.

We walk back from dinner in pouring rain. Our landmark, Ristorante Rosso Robino must’ve closed early as it’s in total darkness, so we shoot right past it. It takes me a while to realize we’ve also gone past our hotel.

I later wonder if the nice good looking gentleman whose shop we took shelter in, who gallantly helped me into my disposable plastic raincoat before showing us the way home was actually an angel or a figment of Annette’s and my imagination....

Sunday

On our second day, we have to change hotels as Carletti is full. Check in time is not until 4 o’clock, so we leave our bags at Carletti while we go and explore the town.

In the lovely little church nearby, where we watched a wedding party yesterday, we light Mothers Day candles for Mommy and Tita Naty.

We browse at a flea market on the main square while waiting for the 12 o’clock mass in the Duomo.

After mass, we walk all around the tiny hilltop town chock-full of shops, restaurants, wine merchants, and pretty little art galleries. The landscape is incredibly beautiful, the Tuscan vistas reminiscent of Renaissance paintings.

It’s hard work walking the steeply sloping streets though and we’re exhausted by the time we pick up our bags and bid farewell to Carletti for our move to Palazzo Nobile di San Donato.

Palazzo? More like a dungeon, says Annette.

This place is a complete and total let down after Palazzo Carletti! Someone ought to call them out on their patently misleading website!

Never mind, we only have a few hours to spend here anyway as we’re leaving early tomorrow morning.

Monday

It’s 8 degrees outside and a brisk wind makes us shiver. The one good thing about this inhospitable “house of the nobility” is that the shuttle bus stops right outside its front door. We arrive at the bus station in plenty of time to wait for our 10 o’clock bus to Chiusi.

Stuart calls to suggest we go to the Centro instead of Tiburtina because it’s closer to our hotel. The train to Roma Termini leaves a good hour and a half after the one to Tiburtina, which makes us much too early to be waiting at the train station.

This puzzles the man at the Chiusi ticket counter. Am I sure I want tickets for today? He asks again.

With time to spare, we have a leisurely brunch at Bar Italia some distance away from the station. We now firmly believe that Italian station caffès make the best coffee ever.

On the train:

Just adter leaving Orto, the train grinds disconcertingly to a stop in a tunnel. In the dark, with the engine completely quiet, a sudden change of air pressure makes my ears pop and the glass doors in front of me swing sharply open.

Annette is sleeping soundly in her seat.

After a long interval when everyone on the train is starting to look around restively and worriedly touching their ears. an announcement on the PA. But only in Italian. There will be a delay of 20 minutes. I’m yawning continuously.

We’re moving again at 2:30, by which time we should’ve already arrived in Roma Termini.

Annette is still sleeping, blissfully unaware of what happened. Just as well, as it probably would’ve freaked her out.

posted by Alice Dimalanta Jones # May 21, 2018

May 15, 2018

Annette’s Rome, part 1

Wednesday

We arrive in Rome on a cloudy afternoon; big change from sunny Amsterdam.

Stuart has thoughtfully arranged for Annette and me to be in a hotel as close to St Peter’s as possible. We didn’t have high expectations; the main thing was to be near St Peter’s.

Hotel della Conciliazione is on Borgo Pio, right next to the arches of the Vatican walls. We’re thrilled to find that our room has a big terrace from which we see Rome’s umbrella pines and the yellow and white Vatican flag fluttering over the rooftops of neighbouring grubby old buildings. As church bells start to peal, we realize we also have a distant view of St Peter’s, its cupola peeking out from above a terrace next door. Perfect!

It soon rains, but no matter. Armed with raincoats and umbrellas, we set off to find a restaurant recommended by Jhislaine at the front desk.

As promised, dinner at Arlú is wonderful! A half bottle of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo, saltimbocca for Annette, and grilled swordfish for me

At the table next to ours is a chatty Irish couple celebrating their 25th anniversary. The wife, a pretty Elizabeth Taylor look-alike works in the Customs Office of Ireland, so talk inevitably drifts to Brexit and the looming problem with borders.

It’s a cheerful celebratory evening. The rain has stopped and as we stroll back to our hotel, we stop to buy fruits for tomorrow’s breakfast.

Thursday

In the morning, the sky has cleared and after a quick breakfast of fruits and coffee, we head off to the Vatican Museums for a guided tour Stuart has pre-booked for us.

Our excellent guide, Art Historian Francesca D’Orazio:

francesca.dorazio5@gmail.com

The Museums and Sistine Chapel Tour takes up most of the day, starting with queueing at the gate for security checks, then the waiting inside for the tour to begin, and the eventual recuperating from being on our feet for hours on end. Even at lunch in the museum cafe, we were standing at a cocktail table.We’re glad to have our hotel close by.

In the evening, Maurizio joins us for dinner, again at Arlú. The restaurant is full. I’m glad I booked before we left last night. Maurizio spots local football star Marco Delvecchio who has just walked in to the restaurant. They briefly exchange pleasantries.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marco_Delvecchio

After dinner, we buy gelato from an artisanal shop across from our hotel. It’s called Sublime, an appropriate name for its products.

We stand outside the shop, watching the goings on in festive Borgo Pio, dripping gelato all over ourselves, cheerfully chatting until it’s time to go hone.

Friday

It’s a beautiful sunny day. We go to the bakery next door for breakfast . It’s a real working bakery, not just a shop selling baked stuff. They don’t make coffee though, so we buy a pizza bianca and a padini and go straight to St Peter’s.

We watch enormous tour groups pouring into the square further stretching the already long queue for the Basilica. We wonder if we should aim to get in today. Maybe we’ll just wait to see if the Pope makes an appearance for the Angelus.

We eat our bagged breakfast still hot from the bakery, fragrant and delicious. We take pictures.

The queue has gotten much too long. And we’re getting much too hot. So we head back to the hotel, stopping at one of the Vatican gates to try our luck getting tickets for next week’s General Papal Audience.

“It’s too early, I don’t have them yet,” the Swiss guard says, smiling affably.

“Try again tomorrow.”

“What time?”

“Anytime tomorrow. We’re here 24 hours everyday.”

But tomorrow we’ll be in Montepulciano...

Later, we take our luggage to be stored at the Hotel Cavalieri for our return to Rome on Monday. The hotel shuttle takes us to Piazza Barberini, a short walk to the Trevi Fountain. But as soon as we see the throng of people coming at us from the direction of Trevi- we still haven’t recovered from yesterday’s long tour of the museums- we abandon our plans for Trevi and the Spanish Steps.

Back in the relative safety and quiet of Borgo Pio, we chance upon a restaurant just off Piazza del Risorgimento that looks to be somewhat off the beaten track. It’s in a basement and seems to be not too touristy, if that’s at all possible around these parts. We book for dinner.

It proves to be an excellent decision. At La Soffitta Renovatio, we enjoy an all-Roman fare of grilled fresh artichokes. suppli, zucchini flowers stuffed with anchovies, and osso buco.

No half bottles though, so we walk back afterwards carryng our half-drunk bottle and singing Arrivederci Roma....

Tomorrow, Montepulciano!

posted by Alice Dimalanta Jones # May 15, 2018

May 07, 2018

Getting Lost in Amsterdam with Annette

“When angels travel, the sun shines,” Anna at the front desk declares, thanking Annette and me for bringing beautiful weather that had eluded the city for days on end.

It’s a splendid Saturday afternoon and we eagerly set out to explore. Alas, it doesn’t turn out to be the brilliant introduction to Amsterdam- actually, to the continent- that I had envisioned for my sister who is seeing Europe for the first time.

Keeping to streets I should feel comfortably familiar with proves increasingly difficult as I now find most of them closed to traffic. There are police barriers set up everywhere. I very quickly lose my bearings and proceed to get lost on our very first outing! As it turns out, the city is celebrating the anniversary of the end of WWII and the King and Queen are laying flowers at various memorial sites.

We have fun finding our way around anyway. Me failing miserably to make any sense of various maps I optimistically brought with me, along with my phone’s Google maps, still in denial about my total lack of navigation skills.

Having managed to make it back to the hotel in time for cocktails in the lounge, it’s early to bed for us, tired but exhilarated by the adventure.

Sunday

A Canal Cruise gives Annette a proper tour and me the chance to sit back, relax, and not worry about getting us lost.

An I amsterdam photoshoot plunges us into the chaos that’s at the heart of Museumplein.

A quick check on the queue situation in Rijksmuseum steers us into the relative calm of the museum cafe. They’re not ready to serve high tea, so we opt instead for Dutch hotdogs in Vondelpark.

As it is Sunday, we decide to attend mass in one of the city’s famously hidden Catholic churches.

Cutting across lovely Ooster Park just behind our hotel, we mingle among the Sunday family picnics liberally sprinkled throughout the peaceful, sun-dappled lawns of the park.

And just off a small quiet square beside the park, we find the very plain, hidden-in-plain-sight Anna Bonifatius Church.

Monday

At Westerstraat Market in Joordan, we buy souvenirs and trinkets. Favorite purchases are a leather bag, a silver chain, and an Afghan carved bone necklace.

I’m thrilled to find d&a, a cafe Stuart and I “discovered” last year. We have a healthy, hipster-ish lunch of shakshuka and lamb with aromatic breads and home-made dips.

Going home, we of course take the wrong tram. We double back from Ooster Park.

We’re entertained - and shocked- on board by a squabble among a group of passengers, uncharacteristic for the normally quiet and proper residents of this city. Two young girls are duking it out, very loudly, with an elderly couple who seem to be the guilty party in this fracas. One passenger, a well-mannered, well-meaning young man fails miserably at his attempts to calm down the increasingly belligerent squabblers. He finally gives up and gets off the tram, thrusting a fist up, and shouting a strangely triumphant YES! I don’t think there are any winners here.

Finally back in the hotel, feasting on pecan pie and fruit, we decide to stay put for the rest of the day. But the bright afternoon sun beckons and we change our minds.

We go out again and this time attempt to go to Centraal on the tram, which of course takes us somewhere else. It doesn’t really matter because we have no definite plans anyway...

We walk around the Jewish area by a picturesque canal and find ourselves in the Eastern Docklands. Very unfamiliar territory for me.

There are however, gorgeous views of Renzo Piano’s NEMO Building.

I also find an interesting art installation on a quiet street corner. I wonder if it could be one of the so-called Anonymous Sculptures that so intrigued me last year?

We finally find the #10 tram that takes us to Gravesand, our home ground. We must’ve asked a dozen people, strangers, for directions.

It takes a village to get us home. Happily, this village is full of charming, hospitable, incredibly helpful people.

Later, over red wine and local cheeses, two sisters chat into the night about life, love, and family. It’s been a glorious day.

Tuesday

Our final outing has to be Keukenhof Garden for Annette’s tulips.

You don’t find vast stretches of endless tulip fields in this garden; certainly not like those seen in magical advertising photographs. But Keukenhof Garden is so much more than the “kitchen garden” its name implies. This is almost 80 acres of expertly landscaped plantings and dreamy vistas.