A Lesson Learned out on the Road ...

When traveling you should always, but always, know the phone numbers you might need in a medical emergency.
Hanna, my lovely Finnish marketing partner arrived on Wednesday evening and experienced the misfortune of walking straight into my category 5 cold.  I was still imagining it might be an allergy at that point and so we went out for pizza. 

I couldn’t even finish the pizza and no red wine passed these lips of mine.  The misery of the cold was beginning to really press down on me.  We went back to the apartment and I crawled into bed only to wake with this terrible feeling of restricted airways ... very much like my old childhood nemisis, croup. My mother used to spend hours with me in our steaming hot bathroom, me ... the screaming toddler who couldn’t breathe.  The knowledge being that the steam would open the airways again ... if the child ever stopped crying.

I appeared in the lounge as a startled creature, realising that I didn’t really have a clue about what to do with this reappearance of a seemingly ancient ghost, and not really sure that it was anything to do with croup.  And voila, there we were in Italy where I had no idea about after hours doctors or emergency rooms.

I am incredibly fortunate in having a marketing partner who is rapidly becoming a much-treasured friend.  We worked through the problems of who we could ask for information after 11pm, and in the end, she went down to the bar near the apartment.  The guys in there were so incredibly kind, giving her the address of the nearest hospital emergency room, an after hours house doctor number, and they also offered to call us a taxi.  I was just so grateful for their kindness.

She returned with the news.  Knowledge is something special, and knowing I did have an emergency place to go if things got worse, we worked out that the situation wasn’t getting any worse, that it seemed more like my larynx having a major incident with flem and swelling, and it might be possible to go back to sleep if I remained propped up for the night.  It was a long night but it worked. 

Yesterday, some of my favourite Genovese friends emailed in with all the medical information I could possibly need and these last 24 hours have been about living quietly while catching up with a couple of good people. 

Stefano came to check on the patient yesterday and took us along the caruggi here, for the most delicious lunch.  The restuarant was cosy-warm and the food delightful.  Everyone was surprised that I was still saying no to red wine but I have been living on painkillers.  It’s not quite time for my ‘wine cure’ but soon, surely it can be soon. 

Later, Lorenzo caught up with us, and another piece of the photography workshop tour for 2012 has fitted itself into place.  You see, Hanna and I are here to finalise the details for a spring ‘come travel with me’ photography/travel workshop.  First the tour, then next week I begin work on the book.

7.30am and here I am, at the kitchen table, ready to work but still struggling with writing as you can read.  We have our first appointment at 9.30am and I’ve already decided that will involve a rather good coffee along at Bar Boomerang.

Photos and more lucidly written stories to follow in the days ahead ... she writes, hopefully.
Ciao from Genova.

Those details.  Hospitals vary on where you are located but:
Hospital Galliera
Taxi: 0105966

Emergency Number: 112

Guardia Medica (home doctor) 010 354 022 (8pm-8am)

Piano, Piano ...

Slowly slowly ... that’s how I’m moving.

I seem have caught myself a cold en route.  Feeling sorry for myself is slowing me down, quite a lot.

Photos and stories will come, I just have to get through this phase of yuck.  Today, when I sneezed in the supermarket, this crazy guy gestured for me to step back from him.  I had my hand over my mouth, my germs were under control.  Truly. 

Later, when I went to visit Francesca, I warned her of my situation, she laughed and hugged me anyway.  She already has the cold, since Saturday. 

Sunshine and warmth today.
Ciao for now.

Jetlag ... and some stories from the road

Probably not jet lag ...
The flight to Milan was meant to be about 1 hour and 15 minutes.  We ended up arriving 20 minutes early ... a short-cut that boggles my mind.  How does a plane arrive 20 minutes early?

The alarm rang in Belgium 4.59am. 
Taxi at 5.54am.
Suitcase, the one that Brussels Airport broke last time I flew in there, revealed we hadn’t managed to fix it as I placed it in the hold of the Airport Bus ... 6.05am.
I may have said a bad word.

I arrived at the airport.  For a moment, I forgot I was in a country whose service providers often don’t care.  I confessed that my suitcase probably wouldn’t stay closed on the plane, due to being damaged last time I’d flown Brussels Airlines.  Fortunately, I said, I had managed to replace the suitcase strap they had lost but could he note its fragile status?
No.

Actually, the Brussels Airline check-in bloke pulled that face that Belgian service providers pull when they don’t really want to hear what you are saying because it’s YOUR problem and THEIR company and/or shop refuses to be held accountable.

Fair enough.  I’ve been there long enough to know the impossibility of anything close to satisfaction in this kind of thing.  I have lost the few battles I’ve attempted.  Raising ones voice doesn’t help.  These guys survived the Spanish Inquisition.  Raising ones voice is NOTHING.

I had an idea and suggested it to the Belgian check-in guy.  He warmed to me immediately. 
I suggested I get my suitcase plastic-wrapped so it would stay closed.
He led me there, abandoning his post even.
He didn’t mention the 5euro fee for plastic-wrapping.

However, there was the relief of having my suitcase secured. I returned to complete check-in.  He had handed my case on to the Belgian check-in woman.

I was early but you really need to be when you tavel from Antwerp to Brussels via the bus.  You have to allow for traffic jams when you travel morning or early evening.

I wandered off and bought a bottle of coke,, looking for that instant caffeine hit.  I thought the check-out chick insane.  She kept asking me for MORE money.  I knew we would work it out at some point.  She would laugh, I would laugh, she would apologise.
But no, that small bottle of coke really was 3.50euro.
I said ‘I’ll be sure to really really enjoy it then…’  And then we both laughed.
That is a robbery, isn’t it? 
It is $4.88us and $6.09 in New Zealand money.
I wish I hadn’t made those conversions now ...

On the plane and things began to improve. I met this lovely Mexican/American woman.  We chatted most of the way to Milan and so I noticed even less of the very short flight.

In Milan, the big heavy Belgian-frost-protecting jersey had to come off but ... oh no! I couldn’t put it into my plastic-wrapped suitcase because I still had a long way to travel and dared not interfere with its hold on my belongings - there were two train trips to be made.  I tied it onto my suitcase, hoping not to stand out as a peasant there in Milan.  Found a nasty sandwich, remembered too late that I knew how to purchase them in that shop because I had been a chicken last time too ... limiting myself to simple Italian when ordering food.  Sigh. 

I decided perhaps I could make this my rite-of-passage experience.  Each time I arrive in Italy I will have one of these disgusting sandwiches to appease the gods of travel and win myself a good visit.  I ate almost all of it while waiting for my train to Genova.  Breakfast had been quite some hours earlier.

On the train, I had the most incredible good fortune ... (so I’m thinking the sandwich sacrifice may be the ritual of choice on future trips).  I sat next to a lovely woman called Germana.  We began chatting after she very kindly alerted me to the fact that our number 7 train carriage had just become a number 6, and yes, we all had to move.

My seat was next to her in number 6 carriage and so we began to chat.  It turned out that this lovely woman had, like me, had spent some time living in Istanbul.  Well, that was that.  We fell into conversation, talking of the lovely places she had lived, talking of family, talking of life.  It was so excellent!  That train trip passed so easily that I didn’t even notice the million tunnels that we have to travel through to reach Genova.

We said goodbye at the station, I found a taxi and voila, here I am, back in this city I love so very deeply.

But that’s not all.  I walked into the apartment and Paola and Simon had arranged the loveliest birthday surprise.  3 bottles of truly delicious wine!  Really!

So there I was, back in Genova, having met good people along the way, my suitcase had managed to contain itself and not spill open and now ... there was red wine waiting for me!
A huge thank you to Paola and Simon!

Today it’s 9 celsius, it’s pouring down after 3 very dry months here in the city, and here I am, wrapped up warmly and smiling that big smile that I try to control whenever I reach this place.

I hope your worlds are behaving today and I wish you joy.
Ciao for now. 

New Zealand Wins the Rugby World Cup ...

AMAI ! (the Flemish equivalent of ‘my goodness’ perhaps), I’m not sure how regular my breathing was during the final of the rugby world cup. 

So many times, we have known we have the best rugby team in the world ... so many times, they have failed at the final hurdle, that final rugby world cup test. 

For perspective on this fact, you probably should know that rugby is almost religion in New Zealand.

And, my goodness, there were times during today’s final where it looked like the All Blacks were going to do it again.  That is ... lose.  It was heart-stopping stuff, with just 1 point seperating New Zealand and France for the final 30 minutes of the game.  France was playing strongly.

But the All Blacks won and our little nation, of just over 4 million people, surely erupted with joy (and quite some relief).  Even there in the Embassy, just as it was beginning to sink in, in the photograph below.  There was another room, with a BIG screen and many more people there too.  The Embassy was full.

Gert and I stayed to chat a while with some of the lovely people who turned up to watch the big match at the embassy.  Apparently there were ambassadors from 5 countries there.  To me, they were all there for the rugby, nothing else mattered ... did it?

From there, we wandered on over to the home of a lovely writer.  I was photographing a man who is in the process of publishing his first book ... in Greek.  If it is ever published in English, be sure, I will let you know because it sounds like one I would enjoy.  He was a pleasure to work with and being there for a while, in his world, was a nice time out.

Home, and voila, our tram took us past a robbery-gone-wrong crime scene, with the police tent covering the body.

Then Oliver had time to film my first ever web video and could I? 
I could.

We spent 2 hours or more, with him interviewing and filming me ... using two cameras. Amai!!  it was intense.  It should appear on the website one day soon, although it is destined for the new website which is up but still being loaded.  Dank u wel to my Belgian bloke who, so very patiently, built me a new site using SquareSpace.  News to follow.

Now, with my glass of red wine almost done, I’m turning my attention towards flying tomorrow.  I jet back to Genova Italy in the morning.  It’s a 5am start, I believe.  A long day of wandering but, by crikey, I’m looking forward to being back there and beginning work on my book ... and organising the dates and the marketing for the first ‘come travel with me’ photography workshop for Spring 2012.

I’m glad I had Saturday.  I had a birthday and my lovely daughter cooked dinner for me, and baked a cake of Veronica’s that still makes me smile when I think of it.  I rested, as if I had an inkling of the sheer insanity of Sunday.  Saturday saw me enjoying Miss 7, hanging out with the Belgian bloke, talking with my sister and her daughter Katie, back home in New Zealand for 3 hours perhaps, there was a family dinner too.

Tomorrow ... tomorrow is coming at speed and I really must pack.  I hope your weekend was a sweet one.
Ciao for now.

All Blacks Vs France, the final of the Rugby World Cup

It’s been good to sleep through the night and not spend the day anticipating the big match being played in New Zealand in a couple of hours ...

New Zealand’s All Black rugby team is pretty much the best in the world.  Somehow though, when they reach the rugby world cup finals, stuff happens and they rarely win. 
It’s bizarre.
It’s devastating.

We’re a small nation of just over 4 million people.  Rugby is a religion there in our land downunder.  We love being the best, as a nation ...

Then there’s France, the team that reached the finals, not so much because they were the best but because they managed to get past some excellent teams.  Sport is like that. 
As Kay wrote on twitter this morning ... All NZ is one large, hot, tin roof tonight! Go the AB’s! If u support France; may the best team win!

Must go.  We’re off to watch the match with a whole lot of other kiwis ...

My Friend, Judy

It has to be said, I have the loveliest friends ...

Today, Judy was coming to town.  We had plans, that changed, and were all the better for changing I’m thinking. 

We immediately wandered from the train station to Caffenation, for some really good coffee.  Much talking later, we left, heading for my most favourite bookshop in Belgium ... De Slegte, in Antwerpen.  We both love books.

Lunch, and Judy introduced me to a cafe she knew once.  It was lovely and I recommend it so highly ... Moments, on the Meir at number 47.  Second floor, for those like me who have never noticed it before.

We walked on, finding delicious boots at Torfs (that were not purchased), my new favourite shoe brand, also found on the Meir at number 14-16.  Then to the Grand Bazaar ... which is nothing like the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul but still, place of some favourite stores of mine. 

There, she bought me a birthday gift that made me smile.  I have never known anyone quite so convincing in the ... ‘well-it’s-better-if-you-choose-what-you-would-like-rather-than-me-guessing’ line of gift giving.  I do adore her.  And so, after quite some sweating, I chose a favourite author’s latest book.  I have all of Joe Simpson’s non-fiction and I have to confess, his work of fiction had me totally in its grip by the time I reached the supermarket, via the tram home.

Then, I took her to Lojola.  This youtube takes you to the cafe ...  it’s the cutest little cupcake and coffee or tea place in the city.

From there, after much laughter, we wandered back to the train station where ... after running for the wrong train, she decided to walk me to my tram, as she had time to spare.  The most commonly used sentence during the long walk to my tram was variations on ‘Yes Di, I can find my way back to my train, as I did Cuba alone’.  But there was so much more humour that doesn’t quite come through in that sentence.  Both Judy and I are terribly amusing.  Modest though.

So yes ... it was a magical day.  Unexpected really but all the more lovely for it.  As I write this, I’m listening to the Chan Chan Compay Segundo cd that she slipped into that birthday package for me. 

Dank u wel, Judy.  Today was truly delicious.