Plus one solo in Europe

november - december 2023
Travel. Not to find yourself. But to discover who you've been all along. Norway - England - Belgium - Germany - Austria - Italy - Switzerland - France - Turkey - Greece - Cyprus - Egypt. Läs mer
  • 41fotavtryck
  • 15länder
  • 36dagar
  • 561foton
  • 33videoklipp
  • 46,9kkilometer
  • 39,0kkilometer
  • Dag 14

    Buongiorno Venezia, Italia

    16 november 2023, Italien ⋅ ☁️ 13 °C

    Buongiorno! Come va? We depart Innsbruck, Austria, approximately 0730 am and are crossing the Italian border by 0800.

    At some point during the evening, my phone had died and my beautiful deep sleep was interrupted at 0600 by the landline ringing in my room. I felt I'd experienced some divine intervention. Some confirmation from the universe that my journey, both through Europe, and indeed, life itself was guided by a higher power. I had not requested a wake-up call, yet I was woken in good time to ensure I wasn't left behind. I then shared my (spiritual!) story at breakfast. And it was explained to me Luigi had told us all that wake-up calls had been arranged for everyone. Bubble burst. I finish breakfast. Pack my play lunch and big lunch, and board the coach. Another country. Another spoon stolen.

    Venice. Unassuming as we approach by ferry. Once we'd arrived though. Wow. I'm not sure I can find words to describe the beauty of this city. The intricate detail and opulence. The soaring monuments, colour, the marble and statues. The art. The history. The turquoise waters of the canals. This city breathes romance and I can't help but wish I had a love to share this moment with.

    We weave our way to Murano glass, an icon of Venice, and I'm captivated by the glass blowing process. I mentally commit to the classes I've been meaning to do forever. I splurge on a set that speaks to my soul. No regrets. Keep an eye out for that delivery Dad 🤑. You may need to pay the sales tax 😉.

    Michelle, my new found best American compadre and I, board a Gondola with 2 lovely ladies in our group, single though travelling together. We are dismissed of the romance. Our gondolier must too be a divorcee, jaded in this city of love. I take control and play "That's amore" through my spotify. It suffices, though it seems more appropriate to blast milkshake. We're all soon singing along to milkshake through the canals of Venice. It does not however, bring any boys to the yard.

    I sit alone in a Cafe and appropriately order an Italian merlot. Tiramisu. And delight in the beauty of Italy 🇮🇹 .

    Salute to new friends, and Graci Venezio, graci.
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  • Dag 15

    Where for art thou Romeo? Verona, Italy

    17 november 2023, Italien ⋅ ☀️ 9 °C

    Enamoured with Venice yesterday, I referred to it as the city of love. Then, we come to Verona.

    "What’s Montague? It is nor hand nor foot,
    Nor arm nor face nor any other part
    Belonging to a man. Oh, be some other name!
    What’s in a name? That which we call a rose.
    By any other word would smell as sweet. (II.ii)"

    I'm taken back to my year 10 studies when Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet was on the syllabus. The warring Montague and Capulet families. The tragedy of the forbidden love of Romeo and Juliet. Of course, my analysis of the themes and written prose was deemed excellent, and I was awarded top marks.

    I chose not to touch Juliet's boobs as is customary when pictured with her statue. She was 13. Not cool people. Not cool.

    It was something else visiting Verona today. Bearing witness to the locale of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, written between 1591 to 1597.

    "For never was a story of more woe, than that of Juliet and her Romeo."

    Alla prossima Verona,
    e Italia.
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  • Dag 15

    Gueten abig Switzerland

    17 november 2023, Schweiz ⋅ ❄️ 1 °C

    The stunning sun of Italy and Verona becomes a fading memory as we cross the Swiss border and wind our way once more through the Alps.

    The temperature drops quickly, the skies grey and we are soon witnessing falling snow. Although similar to the Austrian Alps, the differences are subtle enough to mark the terrain as Switzerland.

    We arrive late in Lucerne, exhausted, though enough time for a quick shop and a visit to the Lion of Lucerne, a stunning monument in commemoration of the Swiss guards.

    Exhausted. I hack a hotel room dinner of ravioli soaked in boiling water in a coffee cup, and put myself to bed at 7pm.

    More of Switzerland to see tomorrow.

    The Lion Monument (German: Löwendenkmal), or the Lion of Lucerne, is a rock relief in Lucerne, Switzerland, designed by Bertel Thorvaldsen and hewn in 1820–21 by Lukas Ahorn. It commemorates the Swiss Guards who were massacred in 1792 during the French Revolution, when revolutionaries stormed the Tuileries Palace in Paris. It is one of the most famous monuments in Switzerland, visited annually by about 1.4 million tourists.[1] In 2006, it was placed under Swiss monument protection.[2]
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  • Dag 16

    Mt Stanserhorn and Snow fun

    18 november 2023, Schweiz ⋅ ☁️ 6 °C

    Every day on this trip has been epic. A new country or city each day. Huge kilometres of travel across Europe. Early starts and schedules so tightly packed there's scarcely enough time to process the magnificence and grandeur at each stop. A new hotel room each night. I wake never quite knowing where I am. I am so tired.

    To add to my fatigue, I'm committed to marathon (half) training and it's been tough. Some (most) hotels without a gym. Some locations are unsafe, either by infrastructure, or unsafe for a lone female (probably male too) runner in the dark and early hours of the morning.

    I set my alarm for 0400 today and was outside in the chilly 2 degree celsius temperatures to brave an outside run by 0430. I completed about 30% of my planned kilometres. Phone had died during the run (Unable to charge overnight - swiss outlets aren't the same as English or other European outlets); it was dark. Foggy. I knew I'd have trouble navigating my way back at the 4km mark, and decided my ambition needed to be parked to prioritise finding the hotel again. It's the first run I've ever done where I didn't feel better afterwards. I was teary. I'm tired. Really tired. Although this tour has been terrific, the agenda is tortuously rapid, and it's a lot.

    Our midday schedule was scaling Mount Stanserhorn via tram car. I'm not sure if it was the mountain air or engaging with the delightful Mason, a 12 year old lad from Texas, United States holidaying with his Mum, sister, and grandparents. But my inner child delighted in making snow balls to throw at Luigi with Mason. Together, we built a snowman (snow turtle - our hands were freezing and time was not on our side) and marvelled at our natural team work in bringing our structure together.

    The stunning views. Crisp clean air and opportunity to engage my inner child and spend some precious time with Mason, turned today from really tough, to really terrific. Another life lesson. When adulting is all too much. Go back to your inner child and play for a while. Reconnect with the simplicity and joy of doing something just for fun. Not for an outcome.

    It possibly helps when you're on holidays in Europe.
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  • Dag 16

    Dijon, France. Non merci.

    18 november 2023, Frankrike ⋅ ☁️ 12 °C

    Crossing the Swiss / French border around 1530, we finally arrive in Dijon, France around 1900. Noting this is the 2nd last night of the tour, and our first of two nights in Paris, a small group of us head out on a tram to Dijon square. It's Saturday night. It's busy. Getting a table for 7 is next to impossible.

    We eventually find a bar that also serves food. Hardly ideal for the children in our group though, nearing 2030, it'll have to do. Mason, our lead navigator, does a spectacular job of leading us to correct tram numbers and finding possible venues to dine. He is 12. I'm 45. I hang my head in shame and accept navigation and I are never going to be mates.

    Tired, exhausted, we head back to our hotel. I decide to enjoy a long hot shower. Sometime near the conclusion of my shower, I am horrified / mortified to find a man entering my bathroom. The stuff of horror movies I feel. There's nowhere to hide. I am completely starkers. Like most of us are when showering. I scream. I yell. "What the f*ck!", grab a towel and chase this man out of my room.

    I see the room filled with steam, which had caused the fire alarm to trip. I calm myself and realise I've now transformed the bedroom into a steam room. Also. Heard of exhaust fans France?

    The mortifying experience continues as the next entourage, tour director Luigi and hotel representatives knock at my door to see if I'm alright. I yell through a crack in the door. It was the steam!! I don't smoke!! I'm not okay! I've just been viewed in my birthday costume by a complete stranger!

    I learn over breakfast the following morning, several guests had assembled in the foyer to evacuate, anticipating a fire. Not only am I overwhelmingly humiliated for the intrusion and exposure, I've also interrupted an entire hotel. I was just showering! Luigi assures me the only issue he has is not knowing it was my room, and him not being the first responder. And how lucky the hotel employee was to view such a beautiful woman. Not reassured, I accept I can only move on.

    Dijon, thanks for the mustard. That's about all I've got for you.

    en avant pour Paris.
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  • Dag 17

    bon après-midi, Paris, France

    19 november 2023, Frankrike ⋅ ⛅ 15 °C

    Surviving the dijonaisse disaster, our tour heads to our final destination. Paris.

    The group fatigue is so heavy in the air, you could almost bottle it. We are collectively exhausted. 9 days. 7 countries. Was the best saved for last? Paris is spectacular, though I think a favourite destination will only reveal itself for us all on retrospection.

    We spend the afternoon touring some of the architectural landmarks of Paris by bus. We view what remains of the Notre Dame. The Louvre. The iconic bridges and the grand lady herself, The Eiffel tower. Statue of Napoleon.

    The architecture is so exquisitely detailed. The investment of time. Money. Intricacy overlooked in our modern world, though I do consider the investment in such luxury, was in a time of significant wealth disparity and showmanship of status and power. The beautiful buildings all begin to look the same. This is easy territory for me to get lost in.

    The highlight of our visit to Paris is our city of lights dinner. Our group head off for an evening of French cuisine, entertainment and the Eiffel tower at night.

    I bravely order la grenouille - ze frog. Kermit arrives, and I try a little. The meat is tender, texturally similar to chicken; though it is so heavily marinated in garlic it's difficult to discern the true meat flavour. I do not finish Kermit. Miss Piggy, I am not.

    I move on to the snails. I've had them before at a classy French restaurant in Melbourne. I'm not sure our restaurant tonight is fine dining. The snails are okay. Chewy.

    The highlight of the evening is the entertainment - an accordian player and beautiful multilingual french / english singer. I am overjoyed to hear Non, je ne regrette rien, by Edith Piaf. I request my favourite song, la vie en rose, and my heart swells watching Brandon and Julia, a married couple of ten years, slow dance to the most beautiful ballad of love. I've attached the video. Excusez-moi at my terrible interjections in English. I can usually hold a note much better than this. Just ask me. Though, I've enjoyed some wine tonight, and this is such a beautiful song. And moment.

    I'm seated next to Michelle. I'm saddened that tonight is our last evening together before she returns to California. We commit to our journeys of self-love and compassion, and I'm so very thankful to have made such a connection with such a wonderful human being.

    Our night concludes with another visit to The Eiffel. Too much wine. Not enough sleep. Farewells to the group we've spent what seems like forever with.

    I'm grateful to have an additional night in Paris before my departure on 21/11, 1600 Paris time, to Istanbul, for the final leg of my journey. The Mediterranean (and a little more of Italy 🥰).

    Au revoir, à bientôt, to my newest friends, and an abundance of gratitude for our shared experience.
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  • Dag 19

    Discovery. Recovery. Alone in Paris.

    21 november 2023, Frankrike ⋅ ☁️ 12 °C

    Bon voyage. Au revoir. The tour is terminé. Luigi has returned to Mario. My new friends, either on return flights home or extending their time in Paris by a few days. I'm en route to Orly airport and heading for Istanbul!

    Yesterday was an epic day of rest. 15,000 steps aside, I rested. Mostly. And it was beautiful. I moved hotels to have access to a gym, save $200 and be closer to the airport.

    I'm astounded by the balconies that aren't quite balconies. There's really not much preventing a fall. Not a thought to indulge.

    I chose yesterday to indulge my other passion. Food. I sat in a beautiful Parisian Cafe. I read. I pondered life. And dined on Mille Feuille- with raspberries. A snot block back home. Délicieuse. Not as good as a snot block from Richmond Bakery and Cafe in Tasmania (award winning snottie, circa 2003). I'm pretty worldly it seems.

    My lack of research prior to this trip has finally tripped me up. I can't get to the catacombs. Booked for days / weeks in advance. The Louvre? I attempted a visit yesterday, walking the 30 minutes there. I'd not planned it well. The line was long. I had however walked off my indulgences. AND! Successfully navigated all on my lonesome, the 1 hour return on foot. #learningmapreading.

    I'll google the great arts. I know it's not the same, but it's the best I can do in limited time and mental capacity.

    Continuing my quest for authentic (and delicious) French food, I ask a local for a tip. I head to Brasserie Pastis. I cleverly navigate my way there. Knowing I won't be sharing air with 36 others on a confined coach and can fart freely, I order a French staple. soupe à l'oignon française. French onion soup. It is stunning.

    I follow with another favourite. Crème brûlée à la vanille. I declare it the best I've ever had.

    This quaint French bistro is everything I needed in that moment. A tonic for my health and heart.

    I wake at the ungodly hour of 5am today to get a run in. I manage just shy of 9km before I'm politely kicked out. I'm relieved. Exhausted. I had reserved the gym 5-6am. I should've been up at 4. C'est la vie. The final leg of my journey offers many more opportunities to train.

    Viva la France. Onwards to Istanbul and the Mediterranean.

    Au revoir.
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  • Dag 19

    Istanbul, Turkey. A whirlwind stop.

    21 november 2023, Turkiet ⋅ ☁️ 13 °C

    Pegasus airlines. Seems legit. I chose the aisle seat and my regret is heavy after Frenchie wakes me 45 minutes in to use the facilities. I was enjoying the best nap I'd ever had. Most unhappy.

    I think it's pretty standard etiquette that middle seat gets the arm rests, though he takes precisely 2.7619cm of my chair space too. I do not. At all. Like the feeling of his arm hair. He won't stay still either. I'm being velcroed without consent.

    I appreciate how tired and cranky I am at how much this annoys me. I think one must accept close confines with strangers on economy air travel. I am relieved to speak neither French, nor Turkish, (türkçe konuşmuyorum), and not regrettably, use this as my reason to not speak. An unusual setting for myself.

    Losing a few hours on the flight, I arrive very. Very. Tired. Just before midnight. I've not eaten since Paris. I order room service, wanting to culturally immerse myself in middle eastern fare. I order meatballs/ pita. A mezze platter type dinner. I don't notice the raw centre of what is actually just a beef burger chopped in half, until the next morning, though I'm immensely grateful my body knew 15 minutes after I'd eaten it and ejected it.

    The sign for the "spa" within the hotel should've been a giveaway. Kum spa. Yeah. Nah. I'll pass thanks. The phone in the toilet leaves me wondering too. Hello? Room service? I'm a bit constipated. Can you assist? Pretty bizarre, though this 80s relic may have come in handy for multitasking meetings and bowel evacuation in an era pre zoom.

    Everyone smokes here. Everyone. And everything reeks of stale cigarettes. The people smell of it. My hotel room reeks of it. The taxis. I am not shocked, though, after witnessing similar throughout Europe.

    I wake early for breakfast, figuring I at least owe Istanbul a few hours of exploring. I recall the airport transfer upon arrival and his statement of "Are you crazy?" when he learned I was travelling alone. I suspect he thought I was coming to Istanbul to explore solo on foot, though finding myself down some sketchy streets, leering men and rough as guts sheila's - tells me I'm not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

    I reverse my path. Clutch my bag tighter with regrets high as also at this very moment, my BGLs plummet and I almost do too. I keep my wits. I hear an American accent. A couple. I befriend them in an instant, get directions to the cruise terminal and navigate my way firstly, to a Cafe to replenish energy. Secondly. Back to hotel to finish packing.

    During my Istanbul wander, I'm surprised by the amount of cats I see on the streets. I presume they're strays, and shoo one away as I attempt to enjoy what is my 2nd breakfast at a Cafe. The waiter then pats him and declares he is his cat. That maybe the case sir, but this is my breakfast and until I see evidence of parasite treatments, I'm not sharing.

    I'm impressed with my growing navigation skills. I make my way to the cruise terminal with ease. I board the ship, the Norwegian Gem, and befriend some Aussies and Brits over lunch.

    I spot an American trying to take photos of Istanbul through foggy glass. I suggest he go upstairs to get better pictures. He said he can't or he'll lose his wife, who is in the bathroom. I cheekily ask - is that a bad thing? He said yeah. I'm going to keep her. The police asked too many questions about the first two. I love this blokes sense of humour.

    I check out the gym and my heart soars at the gains I can make this final leg of my tour.

    Then I return to my room. It is luxurious and nothing like the toddler accommodation I'd been offered on Crown Princess earlier this year with Mum and Dad. I score a balcony too! I buy the Barbie movie I'd been meaning to watch (Margot Robbie. No more words needed). And nap til dinner.

    Cruising pace needed for both the mind. Body. And Soul.

    #homesick.

    I appreciate I wasn't able to give much to Istanbul, Turkey, though it hasnt left a lasting impression.

    Onwards to Kusadasi, Turkey.
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  • Dag 21

    Kusadasi, Turkey. Happy Thanksgiving

    23 november 2023, Turkiet ⋅ ⛅ 21 °C

    With most guests on board hailing from the USA, I'm greeted rambunctiously today with "Happy Thanksgiving!". It's lovely, but I a) didn't know it was thanksgiving, and b) didn't know it was a greeting like happy birthday; and c) I'm too tired to explain that in Australia, we are abundantly grateful, but Thanksgiving is an American holiday.

    None the less. I'm taught my reason to be thankful over breakfast. I enjoy a piece of bacon. I'm hungry. Food hasn't settled well the last few days and I've not eaten enough. I don't chew a piece of bacon properly. I soon realise I'm actually not able to swallow it, and it's stuck in my throat. I can't breathe. I stand up, no concept of time though it's been a bit since last breath, and point to onlookers at my throat, panic setting in. Miraculously, the bacon dislodges and I'm both immensely relieved and extremely humiliated. My throat is swollen. Bruised. The idea of breakfast is pretty much abandoned.

    I rest most of the morning (you've got to love that part of cruising - the capacity to rest!), and we arrive at Kusadasi sometime around 2pm.

    Too fatigued to book an excursion (I am dissapointed not to have seen Ephesus - The temple of Artemis (See images from good old Googley), I did explore the old markets (bazaar!), and ponder the world in a beautiful turkish Cafe. I watched as some young women chatted over a game of backgammon, sipping their turkish coffee.

    I enjoyed mine too, with a side of beautifully cooked spinach and cheese gozleme. The most beautiful moment arose when I paid the bill. The lovely restauranteur spoke English well and asked where I was from. I tried to thank him in turkish, but the word wouldn't stick in my tired brain. Teşekkürler. He kindly said you can say tea? You can say sugar? Say them together, like tea and sugar. That's how it sounds. I thanked him and his wife for the beautiful food.

    He then said most Australians come here in April. The realisation of where I was sunk in. I said of course. Anzac day. Gallipoli. Tears had already sprung to my eyes as the significance of where I was overwhelmed me. I composed myself and promised him I would return to Kusadasi in April sometime soon. He said to me in his thick accent. You have a beautiful heart. I can feel it. Don't ever lose that as it's special. I was moved beyond words and marvelled at the beauty in life that sometimes comes not from incredible landscapes or architecture. But from the connection we have with others.

    I returned to the ship and on this thanksgiving day. I'm overwhelmingly thankful.
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  • Dag 22

    Athens. Democracy. Olympics & Marathons

    24 november 2023, Grekland ⋅ ⛅ 14 °C

    Of all the cities I wanted to explore on this holiday, Athens was close to the top of my list. One of the oldest cities on the planet, and the most ancient in all of Europe.

    Named after Athena, goddess of wisdom and warfare. Birthplace to the Olympic Games. Philosophy. Democracy. And the marathon. Of personal significance is the intersection between the latter two, though I don't mind a bit of a philosophical ponderance in my thirst for knowledge.

    It was with a heavy heart the fatigue I'd been nurturing took full hold today. Fever. Sweats. I was thankfully able to muster enough strength to explore the wonders of Athens, though sadly unable to run the half marathon distance I'd planned in the marathon homeland.

    Again, my disorganisation means I've missed the opportunity to book any tours. In truth, I was reluctant knowing I was brewing something and didn't want to waste the money. The gods (goddess Athena?) of this ancient city smiled on me and I met with a taxi driver / tour guide named Leo soon after disembarkment. Leo, Leonidas, quickly declared himself as the best driver in all of Athens. And he really was. My sample group of one confirmed it.

    Proud lifetime Athenian. Married for many years with two sons, both of which he is immensely proud. Leo took me on a personal tour of Athens and citing my love for spanakopita and baklava, used his local connections to ensure I feasted on superb Greek fare.

    The highlight of my visit today was sharing this moment with some special people in my life. My sister, Leah. My best mate. Confidante. Number one cheerleader in life. Knowing my sisters desire to explore Ancient Greece, we connected via messenger call as I climbed the stairs to The Acropolis. A joyous moment for us both.

    I then received a surprise video call from a dear mate with Ferdie. Ferdinand. How beautiful that moment was, absorbing the mammoth monuments, soaring views over the Athens landscape, immersing in the scale and history, to connect with home and those I love.

    Leo continued to drive me through Athens. I witnessed a changing of the guards outside the palace. I've not slowed this video down - its theatrical for sure. I saw the Temple of Zeuss, Olympic stadium. More history and photos than I could possibly share in this post.

    A brilliant morning in Athens and another wonderful day of connecting with local culture and people.

    Back on the ship by 1300 and back to resting to conserve energy enough for tomorrow's adventures in Heraklion. Crete.

    Below is a great read on the history of the marathon. If I can't do it, I'll read about it! 😉.

    https://athensmarathon.com/history/

    Many historians and philosophers consider the Battle of Marathon in 490 B.C. one of the most significant battles in human history; but the battle is perhaps now more famous as the inspiration for the modern marathon race. In order to understand the event’s importance to western culture, we need to go back to 508 B.C. Athens when the idea of democracy was in its infancy. Back then, democracy (dēmokratía), was a revolutionary new concept that gave the individual certain freedoms, a voice in how the power of rule would apply – “rule of the people”. This concept sparked new ideas and inspiration in Greek society and culture, and gave the people freedom to create, to be rewarded, and to be recognized for their achievements. Systematic thought that included the disciplines of biology, geometry, philosophy, and physics emerged. The Greek people introduced the literary forms of epic and lyric poetry, theater, tragedy, and comedy. In their pursuit of order and proportion, the Greeks created an ideal of beauty and perfection. At this point, democracy had not been tested or fully established. Then came the Battle of Marathon in 490 B.C. The battle was fought by free men with a new concept; freedom against suppression and slavery. John Stuart Mill, one of the most influential English-speaking philosophers of the 19th century, famously suggested that “the Battle of Marathon, even as an event in British history, is more important than the Battle of Hastings.” The Battle of Marathon is significant because it allowed democracy to develop and establish itself. If the battle had been lost, this new idea of democracy would have vanished and would not have been documented in history. There would not have been a second battle and another test at the battle of Thermopylae. After the Athenian victory at the Battle of Marathon, Athens reached prosperous new heights. Democracy blossomed and became the foundation of western civilization. L. Siegfried, a German philosopher said it this way: “When Greeks were fighting at Marathon against the spiritually unconnected mass of Persians, they were fighting as people who had clear awareness of the right for a free political life. The consciousness of mankind . . . was born at Marathon. We, the people of the West, must always kneel respectfully to the place where human dignity was established.” After the battle, legend has it that a Greek messenger ran from the battlefield at Marathon to Athens in order to relay news of the victory. He only said, “We were victorious!” and collapsed and died from exhaustion. The run became the inspiration for the Marathon event, introduced at the 1896 Modern Olympics. The original epic run of the messenger continues to inspire runners today. Today, athletes who run the Athens Marathon will be running in the same footsteps as the messenger. But when they run the original historical course, they run not only in the footsteps of ancient Greek heroes and legends, they also run in the birthplace of democracy.
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