“To my mind, the greatest reward and luxury of travel is to be able to experience everyday things as if for the first time, to be in a position in which almost nothing is so familiar it is taken for granted.”

Bill Bryson

Tonight, as the wind picks up again in Edinburgh my head and heart are wander lusting – it’s always Italy they end up.

Image above from here.

This week has been all about trying to stay warm in the face of increasingly chilly weather (bitter out there, innit?).  The cold snap and the bizarrely fierce winds have forced me off of my bike and back on to the bus so I’ve also been able to finish a couple of books.  I skipped my way through One Day by David Nicholls at the start of the week (I found this really rather corny if I’m honest, despite enjoying the film in the Summer), and I also finished The Consolations of Philosophy by Alain de Botton.  I won’t pretend that I understood the whole thing, but it was fun at the time…

The week has also seen me crocheting like a crazy person.  My boyfriend has taken to rolling his eyes and reaching for the nearest phone/computer/book whenever I mention the ‘C’ word, but I don’t care - I FREAKING LOVE CROCHETING!  I haven’t been this excited about a new hobby since I discovered bread making.  If anyone has ever tried, and failed (like me, several times) to knit, let me tell you now: try crochet instead!  It’s easy, it’s satisfying and you can produce just as much in the way of pretty woolly things with one hook as you could with two pins.  And it took me a total of two hours to learn, thanks due both to YouTube and my Mum.  My first project is a patchwork quilt, and so far I’ve finished around 25 of my planned 64 ‘patches’.  The best thing about creating individual squares is that I can carry my project around with me wherever I go: on the bus, in the coffee shop, on the train…yes, I’m that person.  I’m even taking a few balls of wool on holiday with me tomorrow.  Let’s face it, if the weather carries on down this track there will be no time to lose in getting another cosy wool blanket on my bed!

I also found time to fit in a film this week.  My Week With Marilyn was surprising affecting – has anyone else seen it?  It made me realise that excess amounts of fame have been burning holes in societies and individual levels of self-confidence (the levels of self-confidence of the stars themselves included) alike since way before the X Factor came along.  The most touching thing about the film for me was the way Michelle Williams brought out Monroe’s striking naivety.  I’ll admit to knowing precious little about the woman herself, but the film to me portrayed someone who had an almost non-existent grasp on the position she held and the power she was unconsciously wielding as a result.  Williams was fantastic.  And on a much more vacuous note, she looked pretty damned gorgeous in all those pencil skirts and skinny belts.

So now we find ourselves in December.  And I feel fully justified in talking about Christmas as a result.  Whether you hit the high street with the masses or if, like me, you give only one or two gifts and make as much as you can yourself, the season of giving is well and truly upon us.  So if, by chance, you missed my list of DIY gifts, find it here.  Let me know if you try anything and, more importantly, what the result is!

Tomorrow morning my boyfriend and I are off on our travels again.  This time, our destinations are Krakow, Prague and Berlin, all in one week, all on the cheap.  I’m hoping for glittering Winter sun, lots of cake and coffee (or kaffee und kuchen as my half-German other half reliably informs me) and maybe even some authentic festive markets.  Is my fledgling Polish up to the test?  Definitely, shamefully, not.  Let the frantic gesturing, raised eyebrows and manic smiling begin…

What have you been up to this week?

Image above from here.

The penultimate day of the penultimate month of 2011 has been deathly cold and rainy round my way.  I scuttled, beetle-like, from home to bus to office to bus to home today in that depressing, wintery, never-saw-any-sunlight way which is by all accounts a little bit sad.  But given that there was very little daylight, let alone sunlight to be had anyway, no tears have been shed.  Plus, I saw a rainbow out of the window this morning, so it wasn’t all bad.

Thankfully, and gratitude being the general subject of this evening’s ramblings, there has been golden lamplight, spicy miso soup, blankets, reduced price flowers and pots of tea to enjoy tonight.  I’ll deliberately leave watching the news out of that cosy equation, although if you’d like a quick summary of the state of the nation as we enter December, the words DOOM, GLOOM, AUSTERITY and BANKERS seem to do a pretty fine job.

Anyway, I thought I would swoop down from my sofa nest to let you all know about a fantastic book I’m reading at the moment, and one that is helping me to think of the good that exists in the world, in spite of all I read in the paper.  The book is called In Europe, by Dutch writer Geert Mak.  Mak spent the whole of 1999 travelling around Europe, tracing the continent’s tumultuous passage through the 20th century as the Millennium bulldozed its way towards us.  The end result is a brilliant fusion of history and travel writing: immensely readable (it requires a little more concentration that some books but it handsomely rewards any effort you put in) and by turns hilarious and truly humbling.  If anyone is in need of something more ‘real’ than the tinsel, the credit cards and the John Lewis adverts this Winter I really would recommend giving this book a go.  Each time I put it down I feel a little more appreciative of the world we live in now, despite the spending cuts and the Tories and the Eurozone debt crisis.  I also feel a boundless sadness mixed with respect for the thousands of people throughout history who have worked and fought so hard for us to live the way we do now.  I am grateful that they did.  Truly so.

“Along the autoroute from Lille to Paris, the Battle of the Somme is only a tap of the accelerator.  In late Summer 1916, 1.2 million people died here, between two exits.  The motorway runs at a slight distance from the eastern boundary of the battlefield.  Drivers are kept informed of that as well, on big brown signs along the road, LA GRANDE GUERRE, the way a famous chateau or a pleasant vintage might be pointed out elsewhere.  Then they flash by, back into the serenity of present-day Picardy.

Here, the war has already entered the next phase, that of a popular tourist attraction, a mainstay of the region’s commercial infrastructure.  Everywhere one finds folders promoting these centres of infernal attraction; staying at my hotel – it is 15 February, the heart of Winter – there are at least three couples touring the front lines.  The museums compete by offering even more audio and visual effects.  For the first time in ages I can receive Dutch channels on the TV in my room.  On the news they are interviewing tourists who were stranded for a few days in a snow-bound Swiss village.  ’What we’ve been through!’ one tanned woman says.  ’We felt just like refugees.’  Another one cries ‘Everything, we’ve lost everything!’.  She’s talking about a suitcase full of skiing outfits and make-up.”

Image above from here.

My Rough Guide to Italy describes the country as possibly the greatest in the world.  In fact, most guide books seem to rate that tiny peninsula that sticks, thigh high boot-like out into the Mediterranean sea, as one of the most deeply fascinating places on earth.  And let’s be honest - it’s definitely a contender.  Repository of some of the world’s most famous works of art, teller of some of mankind’s most enrapturing historical tales and religious heartland of one billion Catholics, Italy has some pretty solid credentials.

Well, I didn’t go to Italy because of the history – wondrous as it undoubtedly is.  Neither did I go for the art, although thanks to this fantastic book and my art-mad sister I did pretty well on that front throughout my three weeks.  I’m also a borderline atheist, so I certainly didn’t go for religious reasons (I use the word ‘borderline’ as while atheism is almost certainly the correct way to describe most of my views, I’m still not 100% comfortable using it).  No, I chose Italy for two very simple reasons: language and food.  Sort of like Elizabeth Gilbert in Eat, Pray, Love in a way, minus the horrific divorce, the manic depression and the quest for spiritual enlightenment.

So while I was plenty happy gazing at Milan’s magnificent Duomo, gallery hopping in Florence and circling Pisa’s leaning tower to find the jauntiest angle for a photo, I was always at my Italian happiest when I was either eating or speaking the language.  Very often I would speak the language in order to facilitate eating, as I got to grips with ordering in cafes and shops (this made me ridiculously happy, just for the record).  And because I had set out with only two modest hopes – improve my language skills and find some mind-boggling pizza – I came home not only with a cavalcade of happy memories, but also a set of well and truly exceeded aspirations.

Because that’s the thing about Italy.  People expect a lot of it.  And often, from snippets of conversation I’ve overheard in bars and discussions I’ve had with people in hostels, it fails to meet a lot of those expectations, the holders of which then return home disappointed and perhaps a little bitter.  Because while Italy is the home of some of the world’s most awe-inspiring architecture, beautiful paintings and iconic landscapes, it is also a modern, twenty-first century country.  A country trying to make its way in the world, and a country that, in so doing, is having to grapple seriously with all the attendant problems, flaws and hang-ups that such a status entails.

And that’s to ignore the fact that Italy is one of the most heavily touristed places on earth.  Fifteen thousand people visit the Sistine Chapel in Rome every single day.  Fifteen thousand!  Italy is most definitely not the place to go if you want to have a completely unique travel experience – I certainly know that my own personal itinerary was a carbon copy of a bunch of other travellers I met along the way.  Neither is Italy the place to go if you can’t abide erratic road traffic regulation, knock-off Louis Vuitton handbags and invasion of your personal space by over-friendly restauranteurs…

Nevertheless, to me, Italy is wonderful, and I spent three incredibly enjoyable weeks there.  I ate some of the most sublime food (and surprised myself by trying both octopus and tripe), I looked at some of the most wonderful buildings and I enjoyed myself in the most complete of ways.  I’ve got another post to come on my thoughts on travelling alone (which I could most probably sum up here with the word AWESOME), and a post on Italian food (again, AWESOME) but for now, I would just like to thank Italy for making my stay such an enjoyable one.  Arrivederci wonderful, wonderful country, I’ll be back.

Well my friends, the time has come.**  In 24 hours I’ll have landed in Milan and will be nervously shuffling striding confidently towards my first plate of risotto alla Milanese.  Excited?  Much (especially about the food).  Terrified?  Completely.

Despite my pre-trip nerves, and in complete contrast to the day before most of the other holidays I’ve been on, today has been rather stress-free.  I think it’s all down to the packing.  There’s no doubting that taking only one rucksack has forced me to consider only what’s really necessary.  And you know what?  It’s been liberating.  It pleased the minimalist in me for one thing, and the knowledge that my material life for the next three weeks fits in its entirety into that tiny little space has actually proved to be rather pleasing.  So now it’s just me, my backpack and my faulty sense of direction – what could possibly go wrong?!

I made the fatal mistake the other day of thinking I’d have time to schedule a few “here’s one I wrote earlier” blog posts before I go.  Needless to say I did not get round to this.  So I’ve decided instead to simply relax, de-internet and recharge my blogging batteries.  I’ll be back in a few weeks’ time, most likely with several additional pounds of pizza weight and an impressive smattering of sunburn!

Arrivederci my lovelies, have wonderful weeks!

**(to raise the roof and have some fun)

Image above from Weheartit.