Tag Archives: Holiday

Holiday and illness

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“The first time we book a holiday and THIS happens”.

He was really upset, even if it’s not. It is neither the first time we’ve booked a holiday nor the first time he’s got ill when we’ve been going to do something.

But he is genuinely upset as it is an important holiday. For ’tis the trip to Vienna.

For him: the most wonderful city in the world and where he would like to live.

For me: Much further North than I care to be. Risk of severe cold and rain (although, thank goodness, not snow).

On the plus side – they do strudel – which is the only thing that, for me, Austria has going for it. I remember the last time in Austria – a holiday, in August. the day after we left, they had severe flooding in the valley we had been in because it had not stopped raining for two weeks – the very same two weeks we were there. OK, I exaggerate a bit (but only a bit – we did have one or two nice days). But, there was the strudel!

But back to this trip.

It is an important trip in many ways. He wants to ‘show me round’ and, quite possibly, for me to love it as he does; he wants to visit the mother of a close friend who committed suicide (not long after we met); his friend (who lives there) REALLY wants us to come. I guess that’s enough reasons.

And we’re taking Dino.

Except, of course, for this small hiccough.

“It says 37.4″, he tells me after he has taken his temperature.

But I am crap at all this sort of stuff.

“Is that bad?”, I ask, adding, “I don’t know what it’s supposed to be”. He tells me what it’s supposed to be. I have already forgotten but something like 36, I think. Let’s be honest, later, I felt his forehead and it was very hot. I don’t need a thermometer to tell me he has a fever.

But he has a determination about this. He really, really wants to go. Or, maybe, he really, really wants to take me. Or Dino. One of those things anyway.

So, in spite of the fact that he had the same temperature at 7 this morning, he has taken Dino to the hairdressers and, I suspect, we shall go anyway, taking plenty of Lemsips with us!

So I shan’t be posting for the next (almost) week whilst we are driving to and from and staying in, Vienna. I have no computer and no computer access. Bliss :-)

In any event, I love going on holiday with him and, to be honest, I don’t care where we go, as long as we’re together.

Although the strudel is sounding rather good :-)

Memories – not always what you think, maybe?

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I had a bad night, the night before last. Maybe it’s because F is away in Germany? In any event, there seemed to be many troubled dreams and thoughts.

And some of these things weren’t troubling at the start, only when I started questioning my memory.

Was my hair really so long when I was 19?

I always say it was down my back, putting my hand on my lower back. But, the night before last, I questioned that. Sure, washing it (and subsequently drying it) seemed to take a whole night. and although I remember THAT, I can’t actually remember seeing my hair so long. And so, that led me to question if it really was ever that long.

And the holiday in Egypt. Sure I can remember certain things (the jewellery shop; the Coptic church we were taken to; sitting in that church; handing out pens to the children afterwards; being surprised that the Pyramids were not in the desert after all but, rather, in the middle of housing estates; a walk we took from the cruise boat with a minder following us to ensure we would be safe BUT there are so many things that I don’t remember. I don’t remember the Pyramids themselves, the tombs we visited, the cruise ship on which we spent a week.

And I wonder, did I make my whole life up?

And that made me think about my time with V – and the fact that I seem to be forgetting it all. It’s almost as if it had never been.

And my childhood. I remember one night the caravan awning got ripped off the caravan in the high winds. Except I remember it more as a newspaper headline and not the event or the aftermath itself.

I remember that Gilly Gaskell and I promised ourselves to each other at the end of her garden – and I can picture the garden surrounded by roads and the corner as if I were in an aircraft, looking down – but I can’t actually picture me there or her there. OK, so I was about 5 at the time and that is now a very long time ago – but that’s not really the point.

The point is that it’s more like a film. You remember bits of the film and, if you saw it again you would say ‘Yes, that’s how it happened’ but otherwise you remember some detail and forget others and, all the time, you’re watching it, not participating.

Maybe it’s my age? Or maybe it’s just me?

Or, maybe, it all never really happened.

Hotel Castelbarco; Bergamo – Città Alta; Crespi d’Adda – a night away

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Sorry. Been busy. Still am.

But taking a break for a moment.

Saturday night we spent in a hotel not far from Milan, the Hotel Castelbarco, near Vaprio d’Adda.

Vaprio is a small town just outside Milan, on the river Adda, hence its name.

It was a Groupon voucher thing that I got about 6 months ago and, so, as normal, we were running out of time!

It was for one night’s B&B.

The hotel was formerly the stables, etc. of a rather grand house, now used for functions (such as weddings). The grounds are spread along the river Adda. To the left of the great house are the stables and so on (now the hotel) and to the right are some other buildings (maybe new) that are now a restaurant, bar and night club complex (more on that later).

To be honest, I wouldn’t say the hotel was WOW! but it was quite nice and very, very clean. The breakfast was ample. As normal with Italian hotels that have been converted, the walls are paper thin and the woman with her stilettos that she continued to wear as (it seemed) she danced for an hour round the room next door, didn’t help. But, that aside, it was fine.

We arrived at something like 3 p.m. on the Saturday afternoon. It had been raining on and off. Fine rain or drizzle, not the normal Italian downpour, thank goodness.

We got in our room and dumped everything and left for Bergamo.

I’ve always wanted to visit Bergamo, more famed by the British for it’s airport that receives Ryanair jets from the UK. But there are two Bergamos – Bassa and Alta – and I had heard that Bergamo Alta was really quite a lovely city – being the original city built long before flying started and, as normal in Italy, on a hill.

And, pretty it was. A small medieval town with cobbled, narrow streets opening out, from time to time, on small squares or, in one case, the Piazza Vecchio (Old Square).

The cathedral (although it might just be a church) was wonderful, if not a little strange. There seemed to be a great mix of styles from Medieval to baroque – but it was lovely. We were both hungry so stopped for some lunch at Al Donizetti.

Although there was some very fine rain, it didn’t seem so cold and there was, waht seemed like, an old ‘market place’ under which they had tables. People were there eating without coats and so we chose to eat ‘outside’. that was possibly a mistake as it started to rain heavily and we ended up not taking our coats off at all!

It was also very touristy. But, then, the whole of Bergamo was very touristy – full of restaurants and bars, particularly those advertising their beers.

But the food was good and the service pleasant and, had it been a little warmer, it would have been lovely. We shared a plate of cold meats including lardo and some rather fine boiled and cured hams and then F had some polenta with mushrooms in a sauce and I had tomasino (a flat round cheese) with speck (they said it would be ‘crispy’ but it wasn’t so I wondered if that got lost in translation) on a bed of raddicchio done in a red wine sauce. It was rather lovely. The wine was good.

The only thing that let it down, in my opinion, was the sweets. I’m sure they were home-made but the pear and chocolate tart that I had was neither chocolatey nor pearey enough for me. The ricotta cake that F had was, to me, just stodgy without real taste . However, overall it was good.

We walked around the town for a bit, in, what was now, drizzle and light rain or, occasionally, no rain at all!

It was all very nice.

We had decided that, rather than eat in Bergamo and then have to drive to the hotel afterwards, we would go back to the hotel and eat there.

And so we did.

To get to the restaurant from the hotel, one can walk but, given that it could rain at any time, we drove.

The car park was overflowing. It made us a bit worried that the restaurant would be full. We eventually found the entrance (for it was not well signposted) and it was, in fact, the entrance to the bar and nightclub. When we explained that we wanted to go to the restaurant, he took us through to it.

If I say that it was being in a restaurant of a fairly cheap, 90s hotel, I think you’ll get the idea. If it wasn’t that I really didn’t want to have to drive around (having already have had a little less than half a bottle of wine at lunchtime), I would have suggested going somewhere – anywhere – else.

But it was all too late now. We were in Cubeba, famed, according to its card, for food, drink and dance!

And the food was more like something one would receive at Little Chef! Don’t get me wrong, Little Chefs are great places for food – for a very reasonable price. This was overpriced and the musak far too loud (to drive out the sound of the bar music, I suppose). I mean, it was OK but nothing WOW!

However, next door, it seemed the whole of Vaprio and it’s surrounding villages had come for they were having a ‘Fashion Night’. We went out for a cigarette at one point but, because we had to go through (a little bit) the bar, we had to have our hand stamped to prove we were entitled to go back in without having to pay! Not really what I expect from any decent restaurant.

The waitress, who seemed new, tried her best and, so, for us, we left a good tip. For the food I would have taken some money away! For the ambience, we should have had the whole thing free.

However, F did notice that, on Friday nights, they had their ‘Beautiful People’ night. It made us both laugh.

The next day, after breakfast, I had planned to take F to Crespi d’Adda, where he had never been.

It is a ‘workers village’ built by the Crespi family to house the workers for the factory they built next to the village. They say he was inspired by the model villages he saw in the UK during a trip there and I guess they were right in that it does have quite an ‘English’ feel to it.

I had been worried because of the rain forecast but, in the end, we were lucky with sunshine and warmth and a lovely trip round the village. This time I had looked it up on the net (see link above) and so had a better idea of where to go and what to see. It was a shame we couldn’t really get to see the owner’s ‘castle’ but the rest of it was just as I remembered it. F really enjoyed it.

Then we came home as F had to get ready to go to Germany which is where he is now.

Overall I would give 3 or 4 stars to the hotel, 4 stars to the restaurant in Bergamo and 1 star (for the waitress) for Cubeba. Next time I’ll try and remember to find out about the hotel restaurant first, before we try it!

Is that I or we?

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Of course, one must be careful. Things get lost in translation. The difference between “I” and “we” is huge – to us, native speakers of English. To those to whom it is a second language, it’s not that clear cut.

However, “We can live together and save some money. Not now but soon.” and “Then we can retire here.” are quite significant. And I’m pretty sure a mistake wasn’t made.

We were (well, he was) talking about the house, here, by the sea. It needs some work to be made comfortable but could be lovely with a garden for the dogs too. He wants to do it up but a) it will cost money and b) his brother (who shares it with him) doesn’t have the money …… nor a job.

Even if I’m not as clean and tidy as he would like, I’m obviously not that bad.

It was a nice few days away, even if the weather wasn’t always that kind to us. There was the Golden Wedding Anniversary party for his parents – it was a meal in an agriturismo. There was a lot of food but I was careful not to each too much and said ‘no’ on more than one occasion (I know, I even amaze myself sometimes!). His parents knew that the children would be there but not that so many other friends and family would be there so it was (apparently because I was getting stuff out of the car at the time) a very nice surprise for them. There was a lot of emotion. F is not good with emotion, I’ve found. Still, it was a lovely party, even if the weather wasn’t so nice.

His family are lovely to me. His mum calling me ‘Wendy’ which has become ‘the joke’ with me. For some reason, she can’t say ‘Andy’. At one point she confused me with S, F’s ex. For me, it was something of a compliment. I don’t look anything like S but I am obviously thought of in much the same way – and they like him and still ask after him.

Even if we came back early because of the torrential rain on Monday, it was a lovely trip.

Just keep your mouth shut, Andy! Trattoria Righini

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It’s 3.22 a.m.

Not really a great advert for a restaurant, you would think. After all it is the restaurant that we went to at lunchtime that’s keeping me up. I’m still digesting the food!

However, it’s BECAUSE the food was so good that I’m still digesting it. I simply ate far too much. My stomach feels fit to bursting. Still.

Oh it was good.

The restaurant is the Trattoria Righini. It’s in a little place called Monteleone, right next to a small place called Inverno and Monteleone (Winter and Lion Mountain). Even the name of it makes you want to go there. There is nothing in the village except this restaurant (and some houses, of course).

The restaurant at night

Trattoria Righini at night

It’s nothing to look at from the outside – in fact, if you didn’t know about it, you would drive straight past it. It was a holiday here, yesterday, so like a Sunday.

Inside, there are about four different rooms. The biggest room is the first which also houses the ‘bar’. You don’t pick different times to eat – there is one sitting.

To start with, you can stand at this bar and they serve plates of Lardo and plates of the thinnest shavings of a special Parmesan cheese (it is very young) that you eat with your hands or, in the case of the Lardo, with breadsticks. And you have a choice of white or red wine. Of one brand which I guess is either theirs or a friend’s.

Then we went to our table which was moved (by our friends A & P) into this first room. They serve another plate of this Lardo with a pile of Parmesan shavings on top. There’s a plate of pickled red pepper (very sweet) and pickled onions as well. Then there was some salami delivered. Just two slices. Then some small meat balls (about 4 each), then some cottechino, then some sort of piece of omelet thing, then some other cold meat, then something else, then something else. All tiny portions. All served separately. All leaving you wanting more – which you could have if you asked ……. but if you go here, resist the temptation to have more. That would be a mistake and would lead you to be up at 3.22 in the morning following.

Then we had pasta. A couple of pieces of ravioli. Then a couple of pieces of different ravioli. Then some risotto.

Then there was polenta – with Gorgonzola or mushrooms, or figs done in wine or something else that I’ve forgotten now.

I had something of everything.

Then there was the main course. s. First there was some veal or some guinea fowl pieces. Or you could have both. And, if you’re really lucky, like me, your partner will give you some of his in addition.

The owner serving sweet, I think

This is how they dish out the food

So, that’s it, you thought. But no. Then they had a couple of slices of Roast Beef Inglese – which was the best I’ve ever tasted. By now I was refusing second helpings.

Then there was sweet – This was a sort of large cake, sliced into small portions with a kind of white custard, some ice-cream and chocolate sauce. Or you could have some fruit with the custard, ice-cream and chocolate sauce.

Or you could ask for and get both of the above.

Which is what I did.

Because I am stupid, I guess.

Then there was coffee.

During the meal we got through three bottles of the ‘house’ red wine and one of the house white we had drunk with the Lardo and Parmesan shavings (the last being for F – who drank the whole bottle to himself).

Then we had a glass of grappa.

The waitresses and the people who owned it were some of the most pleasant people. Smiles and kindness abounded. It was all very efficient, with only short waits between the ‘courses’. And, in the end it cost less than €40 per head. We went into the restaurant at about 12.20 and came out about 5. It was like being at an Italian wedding but with really glorious food.

It’s about an hour (or less) south of Milan, driving. Without a car you couldn’t get there. It’s closed most of the time (like all of January and August) – Monday and Tuesday all day, Wednesday evening, Thursday and Friday mornings and Sunday evening. Oh, yes, and they only take cash. No credit cards.

But it was wonderful. And I am now suffering because of my inability to say no in the face of good food or even just keeping my mouth shut from asking for a bit more, please?

Everything’s golden.

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He told me that I needn’t but I couldn’t really go there with nothing, could I?

And, so, last Saturday I went hunting.

Before that, I asked him, “What are you going to get them?”

I’m glad I asked – a bottle of grappa for his Dad with a gold top or something and a gold picture frame for his Mum. Damn because the gold frame was what I had thought of.

“What were you thinking of?”, he asked me back. Quick thinking got me to say, “Maybe some gold coffee cups since they drink coffee every day”. Good idea, I told myself.

However, I found that gold coffee cups are NOT that easy to find. I did find some on my foray in the morning – but they didn’t have handles and looked rather cheap. Well, they were rather cheap so maybe that’s why.

But I had a brainwave in the afternoon and trotted off to La Rinascente (a huge department store by the Duomo). They had a section for fine china and the thing about fine china is that often it includes gold decoration.

And, even if they’ve changed it so that resembles more of an up-market market, I did find some. They are Wedgewood (so an English company, which makes sense) and they are simple, white cups and saucers with a rather fine pattern in …. GOLD! Hurrah!

OK, so they weren’t exactly cheap but on the basis that I get fed and looked after when I’m there, it seems (and is) a very small price to pay.

F said they were really nice. He’s going to wrap them, obviously, being so neat as he is.

And so I am set for our trip down there to the Tuscan coast. We leave on Thursday (probably) and come back on the Tuesday ……… unless, of course, Piero is born and we can go and see him. In which case F wants to go and see him – so we might either delay the visit by a day or come back a day early.

And, on the Sunday, which coincides with my birthday, we shall be having the Golden Wedding Anniversary lunch at some rustic restaurant in the foothills, on the veranda, overlooking olive groves, etc. All the family and cousins and so on will be there. And me :-)

It should be a nice few days away.

Not a walking holiday, as such.

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Even now, when I get up to walk somewhere, there is a twinge. Just at the side of my right calf.

Yesterday, it was my whole leg. I sometimes thought that my legs would give up on me as I got up :-D

It’s ‘cos we walked. And walked. And walked.

The weekend was wonderful. Dino was so tired at the end of it all that, by the time we arrived home, he hardly moved, staying in the kitchen for several hours.

We ate and drank and walked. Did I mention that walking bit?

The weather was, overall, kind although the wind was strong and cold on Sunday. Even if we sat outside to eat, R struggled a bit with the coldness of it – she being worse than me for hating the cold.

Still, the weekend was relaxing if tiring; fun if normal for when we go there. Sunday night we even sat watching Some Like It Hot on DVD! A great film with a simple story yet it ages so well.

3 days in a different environment with good friends and, wonderfully, Morgan who has to be the cutest dog in the world. His curly hair making his eyes look like those black, button eyes that you get with a soft toy dog and with a face that is both querying and antagonistic. He would make me want one of the same breed but for the stories I’ve heard – which are very amusing when he’s not your dog!

Even though I slept well each night I do feel like a weekend of sleeping would be perfect, right now.

It’s definitely cooler today, in Milan, but the forecast says it will pick up tomorrow or Thursday. I’m hoping it will be nice for our weekend away at the end of this month. We’re entering a busy period now.

Holidays in the North!

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I remember a birthday party, years ago. It was at the house of one of my sister’s friends (at that time we were communicating – V and she were in love with each other – in a platonic sense, that is. That’s quite obviously until they fell out – from when they hated each other). It was in the South East of the UK. Her birthday was in July, the 14th, I think. Anyway, mid-July.

She was going to have a barbeque. Seems reasonable, doesn’t it?

Well, yes, but this was the UK. A guarantee of good weather is not a given, even in mid-July.

In fact, on the day, it rained and was very, very cold. We had to wear jumpers and coats. Needless to say, the barbeque was cancelled. You can’t really have one when it’s about 12 degrees outside. And raining.

Summers in the UK! One of the reasons I wanted to come somewhere warm. Or, at least, warmer for longer, with some kind of guarantee.

Then, the year after we moved here, we were convinced by S&N to go on holiday together – to Austria. Look at summer brochures for Austria. Go on, take a look.

Just in case you can’t be bothered, I’ve done the searching and found some for you:

Isn’t it lovely? Look at the beauty of the lake and the wondrous blue sky! Who wouldn’t want to go there, eh?

The one above is very like the valley that we stayed in. Quite inspiring.

And these people, in swimsuits, sitting in the shallows of a lovely lake. The weather, so wonderful and WARM!

Except, of course, it wasn’t like that. It was more like this:

See those low clouds? Under them is rain. Solid rain. And cold. Very cold. Solid rain and very cold.

And when it wasn’t raining it was like this:

It’s no wonder it’s all so green. It looks quite bearable, doesn’t it? Well, it was still cold. But in any event, it was mostly like this:

To be fair, I did query it as a summer holiday destination to start with. I was told that, no, it would be fine. It would be August, wouldn’t it? And, to be fair, they did say that it was the worst weather they had had in years. And to be fairer, the week after we had left, they had massive flooding.

Still, you know, I swore that it was the last time I would be going ‘north’ for a holiday?

Except one should never say ‘never’, should one?

No, one shouldn’t. Otherwise you will end up doing the same again.

Which is what I shall be doing.

There is a fiftieth birthday party. And she is a very good friend of F’s. And so we shall be going to Vienna for almost one week. In May. Hmmmm. F has booked a flat so we can take Dino.

I shall pack jumpers and thick socks. And walking boots. And heavy coats. I shall be equipped for snow and stuff. And I shall pack one T-shirt just in case we have warm weather.

Before the party

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I admit to being a little apprehensive.

Amongst other reasons it’s the flying. I mean I love to fly – I just don’t like all the security and time-wasting crap that goes on, as I have mentioned before. It makes me anxious. Really it’s about the most horrible people doing all this. I mean to say, sometimes they are nice but often they are not nice and sometimes downright rude.

Then there is the going to the UK. I find myself disappointed, usually, these days. Disappointed with the people, the weather, the food, even the coffee. Of course, it’s not ‘home’ any more, which, for certain is part of it.

Then there is the meeting with people who I haven’t seen for at least four years – some even more than that. It’s not that being with them again is the problem it’s the different circumstances. I relied on V to remind me who all these people were. This time, I will have to rely on my own memory.

Not for all of the people, of course.

Then there is the ‘what to say’ thing.

Indeed, what to say?

I will be asked how I am. For some, it won’t be enough for me to say ‘Fine, thanks’. But, how far to go? I don’t know that they want to hear ‘Fantastic! Never been better’, or some such thing. But it will be difficult to keep it in check.

And, then, of course, there is V. Since I have no idea (well, very little) on the reality of his situation, I guess that much of what he will say will be bullshit. And, even if it weren’t to be bullshit, I would think it were so, which is a great shame.

Still, there is the slight concern that he will want to get back together again. And I don’t want to be cruel or hurtful but, quite obviously, there would be no chance of that, even if I weren’t with F now.

So, although I am looking forward to the party, I am very much looking forward to Saturday evening, when I will be back home and it will all be over and all the things that have worried me will be in the past.

Yes, I am a little anxious. But I guess it will all be OK really.

On being not sure.

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Of course, it’s all better today. In fact, it’s as if we have returned to several months ago.

And, this time it’s different. I have F to consider. And it’s his birthday today. So, not today then.

And I am tormented by the should I/shouldn’t I thing. As last time. But last time was different. I made the decision and wasn’t with F. It was more of a joint decision.

On the one hand, there is the fact that I am on holiday until the 9th. This means that I get several days with Dino before I have to leave him alone.

Also there is the fact that, should the same thing happen, for example, next week, it could be a whole day before I am able to clean up. And it would mean going to do it in the evening. Or taking time off work (which is not the problem – only that I would then have to go into work, leaving Dino alone) to go in the morning.

On the other hand – what if that were only a temporary thing? What if it doesn’t happen again for months? What if he keeps going until Easter? Until the weather gets warmer?

And now he seems more attached to F. And F doesn’t even want to think about it nor discuss it.

It makes my gut wrench.

It makes my heart bleed.

If only he hadn’t seemed much better this morning. No pees or poohs to clean up. Not even a pee until we got outside!

I have stopped giving him any medication and he seems even better.

Except, maybe, he isn’t eating. I’m not sure.

In fact, I’m not sure about anything.

Bugger!