Adventure Italy

JTandPC, September 2003

Arrival into Rome at sunrise was on schedule and the transfer to the train uneventful. With the Lonely Planet (LP) as our trusty guide and camera at the ready we set off for a fortnight in Italy - what fun, pasta, sidewalk coffees, chianti, gelatis, history and culture, all before noon, ha ha ha!!!!,

The broad plan was to have a day in Florence with a mission to replace Jan’s handbag. Then head off through the rolling hills of Tuscany to coastal Cinque Terra, the majestic Lake Como, Dolomites, Venice and on to the Amelfi coast before checking out St Peters and returning home.

Accommodation in Florence was our only booking. Being early September the European holiday rush was over so we were confident of finding places along the way. A combination of web sites, e-mail addresses, phone numbers and the trusty LP guide book plus some rapidly learned local knowledge along the way resulted in an amazing array of accommodations many of which were medieval buildings with breathtaking views of mountains, vineyards, lakes and the sea.

We took the train to Florence then hired a car. With a map of Italy supplementing the LP, our navigator was set for an intense on-the–job training exercise. We dropped the car off in Venice and for the rest of the trip we used trains and buses, which gave our navigator a reprieve, think Peter mentioned 101 Navigation for Girls.

Florence
Travelling north with clear blue sky soon saw us into the Tuscany countryside with endless grapevines manicured into the gently coloured rolling hills and a scattering of delightful villages. A short taxi ride to our vintage B and B by the river just below Michelangelo Plaza and we were into an afternoon of strolling through the narrow streets absorbing the culture. An Italian lunch of scaloppini and pasta complete with Chianti provided energy for the escapade. It was great, we realised ”Wonderful” we are in Italy.

Plazas, Duomo, the statue of David, Ponte Vecchio, the high street shops, art galleries and the river. We saw them all and wondered in the ancient beauty of every building stone, wooden doorway and the rings on the walls where horses were tied.

Being Sunday, Louis Vitton, Bvlgari, Chanel etc on the high street were closed. (How sad !!!!) However the leather shops were all open and ready to receive Jan. All catered for tourists. Some catered for serious handbag shoppers and the owners were quick to identify Jan. Each had a dedicated floor for handbags with 1,500 to 2,000 bags. We looked at the lot !! After checking 15,000 bags I figured we were doomed, but one popped out of the woodwork and it was just right. Well almost, it exceeded the budget by a wide margin; but the option of looking at another 15,000 bags was too daunting. So Jan now has a stylish bag from Florence and is delighted. Mission accomplished!! . Peter was terrific, patient and joined in with the selection. Actually by the third shop, Peter had sorted out the differences with styles, quality and razzle dazzel.

Dinner was pizza in the park by the river just across the square from our room. With a top bottle of Clare Valley Riesling, a treat received en route, we settled down with our goodies on a park bench overlooking the river to Michelangelo Plaza. Out of the blue an Italian Moma MaMia appeared with a table and insisted we use it. Just a taste of the hospitality extended to us throughout our stay. Dinner was great. Then with an early night and a long sleep, we were ready for our Italian Adventure.

Tuscany
Abandoning public transport we picked up a small car and set off on the highways and byways of Tuscany.

First stop was the old walled, car free, city of Sienna. A long narrow winding road up a steep hill led to the car park, then through the pedestrian only gate and a walk along narrow lanes took us past numerous gelatarias in 700 year old buildings to the town plaza. Centuries of history surrounded by stone buildings the elliptical plaza slopes down to an amphitheatre which is now filled daily with tourists. On occasions the local orchestra charms the throng with chamber music and operas

We retraced our steps through the narrow streets and lanes to retrieve the car and move on to San Gimignano, a famous small Tuscan village from medieval times. Another walled car free village on the top of a hill, we were permitted to drive through the narrow streets and gates to drop our luggage off at the hotel door. The car park is on the side of a hill and a set of stairs took us back to the narrow pathways which all wind up to the central plaza.

Several hundreds of years old, the hotel is in the town square by the well. We picked it from the Lonely Planet and made the reservation by e-mail!!! There was an unexpected “wow factor” when we opened the shutters !! The vista was vineyards and soft rolling hills away to the horizon, just like the postcards. We knew we were in Tuscany. From the end of the corridor another window looked over the village wall, across the fertile valleys to the distant mountains.

From a small café in the plaza and sipping an espresso (great coffee) we soaked up the atmosphere of the towers and arches of this medieval village as the sun set. Then off down the alleyways to the recommended restaurant for some local delicacies and wines. Following a glass of top local spumante we had the wild boar with onions and the duck with potatoes. Chianti from the neighbouring valley was the choice. Our taste buds were tantalised.

Next morning we were up early and walked around the lanes and pathways to the top of the wall. The narrow vertical slots used to shoot arrows at invaders provided an interesting view of the Tuscan countryside with grapevines, olive trees, cut hay and some ploughed fields. As the village came to life vans delivered their provisions to the various shops and restaurants. By far the largest was the gelati truck. How the driver navigated the narrow lanes and gates is beyond belief. As the hordes of day tourists ascended the pathways we moved on.

Cinque Terra
Travelling west to the coast near Pisa we traded the byways for the autostrade to La Spieza and then back onto narrow lanes to the “Cinque Terra”, one of the most amazing parts of the world. A travel article described it as having one of the global top ten walks. The Lonely Planet confirmed it as an area of fascination and intrigue dating back a millenium. We were not disappointed. Spread along 25 kilometres of coast line 100 km east of Genoa there are five villages on the sea and hundreds of acres of terraced vineyards on the steep slopes of the 500 metre high hillsides. A walking track links the villages as does the main train line from Genoa to Florence and local ferries. Most of the trail line is in tunnels. Express train riders see nothing of the area. A local train takes tourists from one village to the next and we used this to return from a walk and a ferry ride.

Originally settled a thousand years ago the villages were built on what little flat land could be found with some form of port to provide access by sea. The terraced vineyards came in the 1500’s.

We opted to take the LP recommendation and stay at Vernazza, the smallest and most attractive of the five towns, another car free village. Population 1100. Arriving late in the afternoon and with the LP advice that there were many rooms available to rent we rang a few doorbells and managed to find a room in the centre of the village opposite the bakery. Quite spacious and clean it was at the top of 48 steep steps, cash only and run by Ticco, who turned to be one of Vernazza’a colourful businessmen. The village is right on the sea with a small harbour and beach and about a 100 square meter patch of flat ground. The old buildings are all several storeys high, full of steep steps and perched on the steeper hill side around the sea. Following drinks on a rock at sun set we dined on the freshest seafood and pasta, with local red wine. Superb.

Next morning we were up at sunrise and walked the 5 km from Vernazza to Cornoglio. From the village square we climbed hundreds of steps to the start of the track. Along and upward, past cliffs and steep hillsides with terraced vineyards, olive trees and tomato plants the views up and down the coast were superb in the early morning light. Past a remote farmhouse where the owners were on the balcony meditating as they gazed over the Mediterranean Sea. From a high point of 250 meters the track began to descend to the village and down to the rail track. After a two hour walk we arrived in time for the 0830 train with a 3 minute ride back to Vernazza and breakfast. Then a ferry ride to Riomagglio, the fifth village. The views of the terraced hillsides and old villages are splendid. No wonder the walk is rated as one of the ten best. The village harbour shelters the local fishing fleet and the odd luxury boat, and is surrounded by the village square and some art galleries (where the order of the day was: check our website and yes we deliver to anywhere in the world !!). The walk along the cliff track back to Manorola is called Lovers Lane and is worthy of its rating as one of the best walks. This track rises only 50 metres above the sea and is no more than 10 metres back from the shore line, an indication of the steepness of the cliff line. The lunch spot was on a table cantilevered out over the azure sea. We took the train back to Vernazza and were intrigued to see a musician complete with double bass. It turned out he, the violinist and clarinet player were travelling minstrels and spent the afternoon in Vernazza entertaining diners at the various outdoor restaurants and cafes.

Lake Como
The autostrasse to Genoa was exciting as lack of land dictated a narrow road width. Slow moving trucks filled the outer lane and keeping up with the cars on the inner lane meant taking on the role of a formula one driver. Views were minimal as most of the time is in tunnels. Bypass Genoa and over the hills (more tunnels) and onto the plains for a more relaxed but nevertheless speedy ride on the wider road to Lake Como. The LP recommended the west side of the lake and one of the smaller towns. We chose Menaggio. This turned out a good decision as all the road signs mentioned this town. However the road along the lake is no highway. It hardly passes as a byway. A narrow winding road through many small towns and villages it did not take long to put the adventure back into motoring. From time to time the road got even narrower and avoiding contact with vehicles going in the opposite direction required more nerve than skill.

About half way along Lake Como, Menaggio is a picturesque town right on the lake with a backdrop of steep hills. Across the lake the mountains of the Dolomites beckon. We walked along the foreshore to seek some accommodation. The five star Grand Hotel with its magnificent gardens and opulent verandahs looked full so we pressed on. Opposite the jetty was a charming hotel (2 star) with a vacancy sign. Yes there was a room with a balcony overlooking the lake. Wonderful. Settled in and with a few drinks on the balcony the sunset was great. Next morning the lake was calm and truly majestic. Fisherman casting rods and ferrymen getting their vessels fired up for the day amid energetic locals exercising and tourists just taking it all in. The walkway behind the hotel had a stone tablet on the wall which was inscribed some time in the first century. Mounted on the ancient church wall we reflected on the Roman history.

The steep rocky hillsides behind Menaggio are topped with grass meadows and grazing cattle. Small villages are perched up high, each complete with its own church.

Dolomites
With Lake Como in the rear view mirror, we took the right hand option at the junction to St Moritz, which was 50 km to the north. Upward and eastward we ascended into the ski towns located at various passes in the Dolomites. The mountains reach another 1,000 meters through the glaciers to the sky. Numerous ski lifts from tee bars to cable cars had all slopes covered. The runs were mostly blue and black and looked good. With the scarcity of pink runs, Jan was somewhat relieved it was summer time.

Countless hairpin bends and several spectacular valleys later we arrived at the town of Madonna di Campiglio. Recommended by the LP this most spectacular village hosted the World Ski Championships some years ago. With assistance from the local Alpine office we had a guide to the walks and accommodation in the village. A reconnoitre of two laps around the village let us suss out our first pick, a nice Tyrollean style pension near to the town centre. Knocked on the door and yes, one night is fine. We settled in and had a few drinks on the balcony watching the sun set on the 3,000 meter peaks across the valley and above the pine trees. Even at the end of summer the town was busy.

Next morning after a hearty breakfast we were ready to tackle a walk in the Dolomites. The weather was inclement. Undaunted we set off and took the gondola car to the top of the first level, about 700 meters above the village. We chose to walk down the south side track and absorb the mountain vistas.

Clouds swept in and views became infrequent. When we did get a break it was all worthwhile. The rocky upper slopes start at the base of the cliffs then turn into grassed meadows of the alp which down lower gives way to pine trees.

Over one crest the sounds of 100 bells rang out, each with a different pitch and each attached to the neck of a cow. The herd was relocating to greener pastures. The track swung around and the village came into view at the base of the valley; quite spectacular. We pressed on down the steep track through pine tree glades, over small creeks and grateful we had taken the gondola car to the top.

Verona
The LP had interesting comments about Verona, a retreat for Romans two millenniums ago. Stay in the centre it said and even recommended “a place”. So we followed the signs to “centro”, parked the car and found “the place”. But alas, no rooms. Plan B was the local hotel booking agency across from the Arena. We managed to get a small room in a hotel just outside the city wall.

On check in the receptionist enquired if we had come for the opera at the Arena. No wonder the town was booked out. There was nothing in the LP about the opera. However the courtesy bus was leaving in 40 minutes and the receptionist was confident we could get tickets. So, opera it was.

Cleaned up and on the bus for the 2 km ride to the city centre; we found the ticket office in the lower level of the Arena and managed two unreserved seats on the stepping stones. Start time was in 20 minutes. Assured we could get some dinner inside we were advised to take our seats.

What an amazing place. Built 2,000 years ago, but unlike the Colosseum, the Arena is in pristine condition and is used each year for the Opera season. Running from June through August about four Operas are performed five nights a week.

Tonight was Carmen. We were shown to places on the second but top row of stepping stones. Each step is about half a meter high and our seats are fifty meters above the stage. The base of the Arena is the size of a football field and the outer perimeter is similar in size to modern day stadiums. All built without cranes, hard hats or shop stewards !! A fellow came around with a bucket full of rolls and beer. We took a ham roll and two cans of Fosters. Yes, Fosters !!

With the twilight gone and a full house, the orchestra commenced the overture and the show began. A cast of hundreds including horses and donkeys were in fine form under the stars. The acoustics were great. Apart from the odd plane returning on the home track just overhead there were no interferences.

Venice
Dropped the car off and walked across the plaza to the ferry terminal. We took the 90 minute Grand Canal option to travel to St Mark’s Square.

With all stops and a slow ride between each wharf we had plenty of time to absorb the activity on and about the Grand Canal. Old warehouses, hotels, art galleries, churches, the markets and all manner of watercraft from luxury speedboats to barges, ferries and gondolas galore made for a scenic and interesting ride which took well over an hour.

Disembarking at St Marks a stroll across the crowded square led to our hotel just one laneway back from the cathedral and next to MacDonald’s!! A small one star hotel with a newly renovated air conditioned room, we found it fine. One star means no eating facilities so we dined out for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Being in the heart of tourist Venice we were not far from the crowds during the day, but by evening the neighbourhood was superb. Cafes and restaurants abound as do small hotels, Venetian glass and art galleries plus honest looking African men selling “Luis Vitton” bags from fold-up quick get away sheets. The prices asked were a lot lower than we saw in the High Street. It’s a mystery !!!

This evening we took a chilled bottle of Charles Heidseck to the Ponte dei Sospiri, a delightful bridge behind St Marks. Armed with a slice of pizza and some glasses borrowed from the hotel we settled onto the balustrade and sipped the bubbles while taking in the gondolas and the view. It was great fun and rather romantic. This bridge, features on postcards and in the movie “The Italian Job”.

The plan was to walk around the alleys, bridges and galleries of Venice. First stop was St Marks. Being Sunday morning, the front door was closed to tourists but the side door was open to worshippers. We took in the morning service in this wonderful 600+ year old cathedral. From the floor to the ceiling it is a marvellous combination of architecture and art. Both the priest and the organist were in fine form. We had taken our seats just in time for the offertory hymn. There’s a lesson for sinners !!!

St Marks Plaza is full of shops, offices and galleries. Further out, the alleyways and canals of Venice open a new dimension of wonder. On the way to the Rialto Bridge we passed Trattoria Sempione. Right on the canal in a 900 year building, the window tables of this restaurant caught our eye. On closer inspection there were three window boxes with geraniums overhanging the canal and gondola station. It was superb. Can we book the window for dinner ? No. “You and 400 others want that table. We open at 1840. The first customer in line gets the pick of the tables. The Japanese get in line at 1730 !!”

On to Rialto Bridge, art galleries on each side of the bridge and just one busy photo spot to capture the activity on the Grand Canal. We lined up behind the others and recorded our images of this busy waterway. On through the maze of alleyways, residential units, the fruit and vegetable markets on the canal edge, a few hotels, the odd shop and even a school. The northwest side of the Grand Canal is less commercial than its counterpart on the south.

Weaving our way around the alleyways and small canals, the wonder of spring flowers in window boxes and old doorways down to the water line was to behold. No gondolas on this side of the Grand Canal, all functional craft to move freight and goods. The residents all walk. One was scurrying with a piano accordion over his shoulder. A few canals later he was playing to the café set. One of the three pedestrian bridges over the Grand Canal took us to the rail road station on the commercial and tourist side of Venice.

From the rail station the alleyways are more like malls. Residences give way to shops, cafes and galleries. The rubbish bins have signs advising the number of metres to the next MacDonald’s. We managed to absorb it all; galleries, museums, craft shops and even the entrance to the local casino where we asked to declare our revolvers and pistols. We must have crossed fifty bridges over canals. A truly different day; culture, history and art, from the Guggenheim Collection and mask shops to the New Zealand Trekka. The “Trekka” ?? This was the New Zealand made cross between a Land Rover and the little Czech car driven by Mr Bean. Several hundred were built for the kiwi farmers in the 1960’s. Now billed as a work of art, it is housed in a 16th century church, which made it all the more outrageous and fun.

The mask shops are fascinating with countless varieties of hand crafted masks ready for the winter festivals.

As the sun got lower in the west we took our place at the head of the queue for dinner at Trattoria Sempione. Armed with postcards to write and pre dinner drinks (a couple of cans of Heinecken !) we were in front of the Japanese. At 1840 precisely the window box was ours for dinner. The food and wines were extraordinary. We had the seafood risotto and some local sauvignon blanc; superb. The restaurant had been in operation for the last 300 years with a recent history of operation by seven generations of the one family. A bonus was the close observation of the gondola business in Venice. Right before our eyes we saw the various middle men collect and distribute the day’s takings from the oarsmen. The business of gondolas appears to be exceptionally well regulated !!

Amelfi Coast
The train to Sorrento travels south from Naples past Mt Vesuvius at Pompeii. Most spectacular. Sorrento is the end of the line and the “blue bus” to Positano departs from the station. Wending our way around Sorrento, over the hill and there is the blue water of the Mediterranean. From a range of high mountains the hills plunge steeply to the sea. The slope leaves little room for a road. This stretch of coast line, like Cinque Terra, is spectacular. Fifteen kilometres and thirty five minutes later the bus arrives at Positano. LP says get off at the first stop and walk down the road to our accommodation. Perched on the hill side with extensive views of the Amelfi Coast our “hotel” turns out to be three hundred years old. From the balcony we look past the bougainvillea in full bloom east to Salerno and west to the Isle of Capri. To the south is Africa. Down 200 metres is the harbour for Positano with all manner of craft from the Italian equivalent of a fisherman’s “tinny” to luxury cruise vessels. As the sun sets we talk to the people on the next balcony who are on their way back home to Melbourne. His brother recommended this and they booked some time ago. We found it in the LP and phoned that morning !!

Being a one star hotel, dinner was at the restaurant next door, sitting at one of the street side tables overlooking the sea. The view was great and the pasta marinara superb. The local red was worthy of a mention.

By the time the sun was up we had decided to extend our stay. The Pope could wait a day !! Down to the beach we took the ferry east to Amelfi. The ferry ride was fascinating gliding along in the azure sea with 1,000 metre high hills straight up from the coast.

Amelfi is another wonderful sea side town. Boats, promenades, cafes in centuries old buildings and art and craft stores a plenty. A feature is the local bus ride to the historic village of Raveli. High on the hill it is set amongst magnificent gardens. The ride is an adventure in itself. Darting in and out of old and ancient villages with extraordinary buildings and sweeping views of the Mediterranean we were even treated to a 2,000 year old method of transport: donkeys loaded with modern day bags of cement to carry further up the hill.

Returning to Amelfi we had missed the afternoon ferry. The remaining option was the bus. What a choice !! Although nearly full, we found a seat at the back of the bus. Views were limited but we soon realised this was the ride of our lives. It left the Great Ocean Road from Queenscliffe to Lorne looking like a Sunday School picnic !!

Having checked the bus timetable, next day we took the first ferry to Amelfi so we could return on the 1030 bus in the front seats !! Camera at the ready and with the window cleaned we were away. What a spectacle. Steep cliffs on the sea side with the odd house nestled in amongst the rocks, a swimming pool with the cliff face as one wall and a narrow set of steps carved in the rock for access to the sea. The hill side was equally spectacular. The width of the road varied from narrow to skinny. Frequent stops were encountered to let even motor scooters past. The uphill side was fertile with narrow terraces allowing the growth of grape vines, olive and lemon trees. The eighteen kilometres took an hour.

On arrival in Positano we were in time for the local bus to Nocelle, a small village about five hundred metres up and a kilometre back from the sea. On arrival a short walk on a narrow track took us to the recommended (only) restaurant overlooking ??? Yes the sea !! Wow. The views were superb. Just in front was the vegetable garden with lettuce, zucchini and tomatoes all flourishing, then the grape vines, lemon trees and the sea.

The food was simple but superb. We asked about some local red wine. Although the wine list had bottles from all over Italy, the local wine was served with the comment “my father makes it”.

The return was via 2,000 steps leading straight down to Positano; a pleasant walk.

Rome
Arriving at Rome Central Station we found the recommended one star hotel a few blocks away, just as the LP said. Checking in at noon we were off soon after to make the most of our last afternoon. With bus tickets in hand we set off for St Peters. First stop the Sistine Chapel. A long walk from the bus stop was rewarded with an alcove of extraordinary art before getting to the Chapel itself. Actually it turned out there were twenty alcoves of extraordinary art all relating to the life of Christ before we made it to the Chapel. We were overdosed on culture !!

Then the Sistine Chapel itself. With more archangels than you could imagine covering the ceiling and walls it is truly magnificent.

The return along the west side of the building which has a central garden contains works of art from all areas of Christian history. We did not take the personal guide which was probably just as well as we would still be there !!

From the chapel there is access to the side of St Peters. At the west end of the piazza which is 500 metres across, the basilica towers over the other buildings of the Vatican.

Entering St Peters is breathtaking. The footprint is the size of a football field and with the ceiling fifty metres above the feeling of space is incredible. Built over a150 year time frame from 1506 the basilica replaced the earlier structure which stood from 326. Apart from recognising the engineering feat the art is phenomenal. Stained glass windows above the alter filter the afternoon sun as its rays stream onto the floor beneath the central dome. Walls and ceiling are splashed with all manner of paintings and sculptures. The side wings house prayer rooms and confessional boxes. Although there were hundreds of people from tourists to devout Catholics taking prayers there was no sense of congestion. No wonder, it can hold up to 60,000 worshippers. One side wing houses a small museum filled with art treasures. On the wall a large stone tablet is inscribed with the names of all the Popes since AD 48. The bad news is there is space for only ten more names.

Leaving St Peters the piazza leads to the river. A short walk to the north east through narrow streets past some ritzy shops brought us to the crowded Spanish Steps. No Italians here; rather a cosmopolitan mix of tourists from all corners of the globe.

A short stroll east leads to the Trevi Fountain where it is also difficult to get a spot alongside to throw a coin over the shoulder. After sharing the beauty with thousands of tourists a twenty minute walk saw us overlooking the archaeological site which has uncovered the 2,000 year old relics of the Emperors palaces. Across the road is the Colosseum. Sadly this has not fared nearly as well as the Arena in Verona. Built to the same design much of the Colosseum is not accessible.

As the twilight disappeared we took the bus to our hotel. For our last night in Italy we dined on pasta and pizza with Chianti. The objective was to compare Roman pizza with Napoli pizza to determine if we could detect the differences detailed in the LP. We preferred the thinner bases of the Roman style. The anchovies and olives were common to both !!

What a Wonderful Holiday, an Adventure, A Food lovers Paradise, a Wine Delight,
Easy, Fun, We laughed a lot, and thoroughly enjoyed Ourselves.

Arrivederci.

India without Reality - January 2005

Why India ? You are thinking, and what is this without Reality, please read on !

Qantas recently started flying into Bombay (again); a daylight flight direct from Sydney. Little had changed; squatters in shanties parallel the runway, the short drive from the terminal to the hotel with people everywhere the chaotic traffic reminded us we are in India. The rhythm of life draws you in. This trip was a holiday, an adventure, so the objective of our planning was that this little encounter with the traffic would be one of our few brushes with the reality of India.

Our itinerary covered the Taj Mahal, an elephant safari in the Corbett Tiger Reserve, a camel mounted expedition through the dunes of the Thar Desert and a couple of nights in Maharaja Palaces. All were sufficiently removed from the chaos and noise of the hundreds of cities, towns and villages occupied by over one thousand million people in a space about half the size of Australia.

Peter’s colleagues and friends, SP and SS Kamath who he has worked with in India for 20 years, met us at the hotel where we compared notes after so many years. None of us had aged at all! It was a Cheerful, Delightful gathering of Contemporaries.

Bright and early we were off to Delhi. Most of our arrangements were made over the internet, part monies sent, there is always a minutes pause and a degree of trust. We spied a greeting sign with the name Cameron, oh that is us. Good, it seems to have worked.

Over an hour later our driver had navigated the 15 km from the airport to the “freeway” to Agra. Delhi traffic is now on a par with Tokyo!! The “free” way not only requires payment of tolls but bypasses very few towns. The 200 km took over four hours.

On arrival to Agra we received a traditional greeting - garlands of Marigolds were placed around Our Necks. Our room at the Taj View Hotel was just that; one kilometre from the Taj the view was superb. The drive down was circuitous due to regulations which prohibit internal combustion engines within close proximity of the Taj Mahal. The car is swapped for an electric three wheeler for the last 400 metres.

Through the forecourt with its arches and gardens full of people and squirrels we arrived at the magnificent entry portal with its 22 domes, one for each year of construction. Built over four hundred years ago and perfect in symmetry, the Taj Mahal combines elements of engineering, art, religion and brilliance to be one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It is a thrill when you enter the grounds. It is beautiful, like the postcards, it is better, it is breathtaking, peaceful, it is almost the year “1631” when the construction began, and from sadness comes great beauty. Exquisite screens and archways made with thousands of semiprecious stones.

We were treated to a long running history lesson of all the intricacies by our guide. The Taj Mahal was built by 20,000 Persians working day and night for 22 years. They lived in a camp adjacent to the structure. Marble blocks were sourced from Jaipur some 250 km to the west and transported by camel carts. The inlaid gem stones (malachite, lapizlasu, tiger’s eye and others) came from India and neighbouring countries. The layout is symmetrical and harmonious. The only departure is the vertical tabloids, which themselves are symmetrical but contain different chapters of the Koran. The gardens are magnificent with traditional bullock drawn lawnmowers. This is renewable energy at its best as they eat the grass they cut. The classic view is of the pool at the front of the Taj; however there are many other splendid aspects of this wonder from the gardens and the various alcoves.

This tomb for the wife of the local ruler was intended to be one of two. The other, for the ruler, was to be black, constructed from onyx on the opposite side of the river; however on his death the ruler’s son decided against extravagance and buried his father alongside his mother thus breaking the symmetry.

Everything about the Taj Mahal is wonderful we immersed ourselves in its beauty and mystic for several hours, much to the disgust of our guide whose mission was to get us into the nearby shops.

The 300 km drive from Agra to Corbett took all day. The countryside is flat and lush; the source of many crops of wheat, sugar cane, mustard seed and other basics. Whilst the factories which process the produce are relatively modern, the methods of transporting the crops are at best “traditional”. All manner of overloaded carts (drawn by camel, horse or oxen), tractors and trucks participate in this exercise. Much of the road was undergoing major maintenance which is done by manual labour. Stones are broken by hammer and hand sized before being taken to the section under construction in a basket carried on ones head. The asphalt is laid with a machine and the final finished job is smooth.

Road transport is described by the Lonely Planet (2004) as difficult and dangerous. Of the one billion people in India most are out travelling on the same road as you at the same time. The mode of transport is much the same whether on a freeway, country road or village track: trucks, buses, cars, jeeps, auto-rickshaws, tractors with trailers, motorbikes, scooters, bicycles, horse carts, ox carts, camel carts, goat carts, hand carts and pedestrians all going as fast as they can. Mostly they are overcrowded or overloaded. All figure they have priority which is ascertained by either flashing the headlights (if they have them and if they work) or by continuous use of the horn. The pitch of the horn is matched to the size of the vehicle. Failure of the horn is about the only defect which can put a vehicle off the road. Around town progress is slow but in the country one can average forty kilometres an hour on a good day.

Corbett National Park, is India’s first national park, located in the foothills of the Himalayas and inspired the India wide Project Tiger programme which started in 1973 and saw the creations of 22 other reserves, the Lonely Planets guide advises.
Elephants in national parks are becoming rather special, we believe there are only 3 parks in India that offer the opportunity to tiger spot from elephant back. This is one of the reasons we chose Corbett, also its location north of Delhi.

Another predawn start, with a cast of many - Guide, Cook and Driver, Peter and I journey by Jeep with trailer to the jungle. Forty minutes later we met up with our elephant (Laxmi) and his two handlers (Mahawats) who washed his back clean of any small stones before placing and tying on the seating platform. Standing four metres high we had no intention of following the handlers who ran up the elephant’s trunk to take our positions. An embankment was found and we gingerly mounted the seat. After swaying around for a while we both noticed our knuckles were white. It is a very odd sensation travelling on elephant back; you are seated sideways and yet travelling forwards. There must be an easier way of hanging on other than to the corner posts. This was not to be found until after the breakfast stop. Here the options were simple; scramble down the back rope of the kneeled elephant or take the bag of breakfast up and eat it from the seat. Whilst by no means the preferred option, the latter seemed to contribute to longevity of life. Opening fruit juice and peeling boiled eggs required two hands and we soon found that by sitting side saddle with feet pointing forward on the running board and leaning inwards we felt relatively secure. This also eased the pain on our white knuckles.

In our quest to spot a tiger, we journeyed through dense jungle, vegetation that was lush and green, past raging rivers, surrounded by cloud shrouded hills and mountains. Jungle noises a plenty, monkey cries, shrill and alarming, birds, called and sang, a few deer but alas no sign of a tiger. The tiger population numbers around 150 in this park of 300 square kilometres. The odds of seeing one before he sees you are probably on a par with winning the lottery!!! However we kept our eyes wide open and after seeing some footprints in the sand by the river we were a little less casual about how we hung on to our seat. Lunch was prepared by our support team with the cook resplendent in his white coat and chef’s hat. From a few pots and a two burner gas stove the culinary delights were amazing.

After a couple of river crossings we pressed on towards the Forest Rest House. Set high above the river, this 100 year old structure was built by the British with 18 foot ceilings and a fireplace in each room. It was rather romantic, dinner by candlelight, warmth by fire and a bird bath from a bucket of hot water, great fun. Being winter we appreciated the log fire with some of the logs being broken by Laxmi, he is a strong boy. Dinner was great and due to some overnight rain which postponed our early morning departure, we were allowed to sleep in. Heavy rain on a tin roof and feeling snug seemed a long way from the reality and frantic pace of city life in Dehli or Mumbai.

We bid Laxmi goodbye, he had a two day trek back to the resort and we pressed on by jeep. Fording the swollen rivers was an adventure, to be surpassed only by the narrow tracks around the mountain a couple of hundred metres above the river. To the north lay the foothills of the Himalayas covered by a dusting of overnight snow. India is full of contrasts. Wrapped in blankets to combat the wind chill factor of our open jeep, we took in some wonderful sights of fertile valleys with their terraced fields of wheat and mustard seed, layer apon layer of vivid green and earth coloured soils. Our guide Hem, told stories of local lore, of leopards and the men who went off to the military in order to feed their families. Life is hard here.

Leaving the valley a narrow track took us high onto the hills above the tiger reserve. Tiger scratch marks on the base of a tree caught the attention of our guide and we were given a lesson in animal cleanliness with the tiger cleaning his paws after a kill. The marks were long and deep, you could see the animals strength, it is easy for your imagination to run away unchecked, is he up or down the hill, scary but exhilarating. Numerous birds and deer were observed in close quarters going about their day on our trip to the next Forest Rest House at Kanda, situated on a pinnacle 1,100 metres above sea level. The 360 degree views were magnificent. Again the cook excelled himself and following dinner by the open fire we retired early for another 0530 start. This is great fun.

Much of the food is vegetarian for a variety of reasons. The lack of refrigeration is one but in Corbett Tiger Park it is mandatory to eat only vegetarian to remove suspicion of poaching. The flavours are magnificent; use is made of coriander, tumeric, cardoman and ginger. Death by hot curries or chilli can be avoided by requesting them not to be used or added. The vegetables are varied but lentils seem to pop up every time. Whilst no doubt lentils are good protein, the by-products!!!! After a week we declined the lentils. Few fruits passed the rule of “peel it yourself” but bananas were plentiful. Beer was good and readily available

The track from the rest house to the grasslands below traversed narrow, tight, sharp corners and went across numerous slips which had been cleared recently. In the pre-dawn, none of the bends and steep sides allowed us to share the confidence of our driver. Safely in the grasslands and a couple of river crossings later we pulled up at another rest house which housed an elephant. We were quick to accept the opportunity of a ride while the cook prepared breakfast.

This time we had a platform to mount the elephant, easy easy, we were old hands at this. Fifty metres from the clearing the handler pointed to tiger tracks in the creek bed and hearing the monkeys give their alarm call to the other prey of the tiger we were off up the creek. We needed little encouragement to hang on and keep quiet.
When the Mahawat, pulled up the bottom of his hat to uncover his ears so he could hear better, we straightened up and hung on. This adventure was very removed from our daily lives, this was intense and exhilarating!!!

The elephant made his way around and through the thick undergrowth but alas the tiger was not to be seen. The Mahawat decided the other side of the valley might yield a better result. Not until we got to the river did we realise we had to cross this fast flowing stream. Had we known there were crocodiles around we would have hung on even tighter!! More thick undergrowth and more tiger paw marks in the sand; more alarm calls from the monkeys. The handler listened intently. The elephant navigated the narrow animal paths and pushed through the undergrowth. No doubt the elusive tiger watched us from an obscure advantage point. Meantime there were plenty of deer, monkeys and birds. Even a tortoise swam around in a small pool. Being on elephant back, the other animals did not see us as a threat. We could have reached out and touched the deer. We were really glad we had chosen to ride elephants; this was so much closer to nature than in a motor vehicle and was really a lot of fun. The elephants were delightful, they looked at you with a twinkle in their eyes, I think they shared the fun.

Back across the river, we dismounted to a picnic breakfast before returning to the resort in the trusty jeep. After thanks and farewells, we set off for Delhi and the overnight train to Jodhpur with our car driver who had waited patiently for three days. The reality of the traffic on the overcrowded roads and the chaos of Delhi train station could not be avoided.

Arriving in Jodhpur on schedule we met our new driver and set off for the West Rajasthan city of Jaiselmer which was to be our base for a camel safari in the Thar Desert. “Can you believe I have gone along without kicking and screaming!.”

The history of this town goes back a thousand years. Originally some form of staging post for the camel drawn caravans plying the silk route, the city developed as a trading post for spices and opium. The fort was built to protect the inhabitants, many of whom became wealthy merchants. A feature of the local architecture is the lacework carved sand stone which adorn the balconies and windows. These lace like works are found in buildings called Havelis, there is a sense of the exotic, glimpses of a time past, the balconies private, where women could only see the world from inside their rooms, through tiny openings, viewing but not viewed.

Our guide whisked us around to the main gate of the fort and we climbed the 100 metres through several gates to the fort. Stretching 2 km by 1 km wide this 1,000 year old fort is home to 3,000 people and accommodates numerous tourists in rather congested hotels and guest houses. Jan took hundreds of photographs of the historical architecture and features, “every where I looked I saw chiselled and contoured shapes that begged capture”. The view from the edge of the wall which contains 99 cannon towers was spectacular. Our guide was equally as anxious to share his knowledge as he was to get us into some selected shops. Whilst fascinating for us, the latter visits did not bear economic fruit for our guide.

Making plans for the camel safari by e-mail seemed a bit shaky. We were uncertain of many things about our proposed night in the desert. Some web sites indicated fixed tents were available. The Lonely Planet mentioned other options, none contained all creature comforts and we had not established what compromises were being made. When the agent in Jaiselmer offered a Mud hut option with beds and bathroom at Khuri, we readily accepted. Although there was no hot water, it was a good choice.

The village houses are made of mud and straw, whitewashed and decorated using the patterns on Persian carpets. A tour through the desert village of Khuri by a man whose family have lived there for three generations was highlighted with visits to several of his friend’s cottages, one of whom was a potter who made a bowl using an old truck tyre for a potter’s wheel. Kids abounded, some were camera shy, others not; but they all knew the value of a 10 rupee note. When we ran out of “tens”, one man even went and got us some change! You know you are in Rajasthan when you see the women, their clothing is colourful and bright, their faces were covered, but they peek out at you and flashes of gold were seen, attached to ears and noses, these glimpses are like their embroideries all mirrors and patterns.

In the mid afternoon our camels arrived and with some trepidation we got on the saddle while they were kneeling. That was the easy part. Next the camel stands up, front legs first. “Lean back” was the instruction. We survived thus far and the camel handlers led us out into the dunes of the Thar Desert. We wandered, walked, took photos of this landscape and rode some more to Sunset Point. Peter is shaking his head, “this is all a bit amazing”. By the late afternoon the number of people on the top of the dune increased to over 100. Most arrived by camel but some came in jeeps and mini buses. We ventured to the western most part of the dune to get away from the crowds and enjoy the sunset. The colours of the dunes change as quickly as the light, wheat drifts to fawn to grey, while the sky goes from blue to pink with whispers of gold. As the sun slipped below the horizon, we heard a tinkling neck bell, our camels had arrived, what a sight, these ships of the desert silhouetted against a setting sun. Memories are made of this imagery. Looking east to check out the colours of the desert, around 20 km away the sun’s rays gleamed bright on the white towers of over 60 wind mills which formed a power generation farm. As the sun set on the dunes not far from the Pakistan border, this technology was in stark contrast to our location.

Off to bed early, for another early start to see the sun rise over the dunes then drive to Jodhpur. Bouncing around in the back of an old “Ambassador” (Indian made Morris Oxford of 1955 vintage) is not the most comfortable place to be. The countryside is dry, straw coloured with tufts of grass and scrub; sheep, goats, camels and peacocks slowly graze from vegetation to vegetation, ladies fetching water flash colour in an otherwise slow pace of life.

Arriving in Jodhpur from the west another reality check, we had to travel across town with all the horns and traffic to our accommodation at the Umaid Bhawan Palace. Built over 14 years from 1929, using local sandstone, this edifice containing no less than 347 rooms has a footprint of 200 metres by 100 metres with the central dome being 50 metres high. It is located on the hill inside gardens of a hundred acres for which the soil was carried by one hundred thousand donkeys. From the outside it is magnificent but the inside is to behold; opulence and luxury fit only for a Maharaja. In a welcome letter from The Household staff – “The Palace is still a Regal Court- The seat of the Rathore clan of Rajputs, the fearless heroic warriors who, for over 600 years, ruled the fabled desert kingdom of Marwar. We no longer aspire to being a hotel, we are proud of being The Palace, one of the grandest homes in the world”. Peter and I are very luckly, although Peter does think I quickly fitted into the role of “Princess”, I did pause for a second or so though!!

When the central government withdrew financial support for the Raj some 30 or 40 years ago they were forced to seek external sources of funding to maintain their lifestyle. Most converted their palaces into hotels. At Umaid Bhawan, 45 rooms provide luxury accommodation. Ours was a suite on the top floor of the south east corner which had previously been the children’s nursery. Larger than our apartment in Brisbane and wonderfully appointed, two balconies allowed us to admire the gardens. We were in the same wing as the current Maharaja and his immediate family.

We declined the “city tour” and spent the afternoon absorbing the wonders of the palace: the billiard room - full size and like a boys club, gardens with manicured lawns, blossoms everywhere, trophy bar – like fishing stores the murmur of tall tales could be heard, museum – what treasures, indoor swimming pool – art deco , ball room – upstairs was for the Princesses splendid in their jewels, so they could see but not be seen, , Prince’s meeting room, balconies and the dome before returning to our suite for a pre-dinner drink. How did Prince Peter and Princess Jan sleep? “Well”. Breakfast was taken overlooking the gardens where peacocks strutted their charms. We were treated to a quick inspection of some of the other luxury suites. Each had its own style of decoration and each resplendent in the layout and art work to say nothing of the generous size of each room. Our driver arrived and the time came to check out and move on to Udaipur.

Bouncing along the back roads of this more populated part of Rajasthan we passed through many towns and villages which formed our reality check for the day. There were surprises along the way, we stopped to take photos of a bullock driven water wheel, which feed irrigation channels, no wonder the terraces were so lush and green.

Arriving in Udaipur we stopped at the departure jetty for transfer to the Lake Palace Hotel. Despite our unpretentious travel gear we passed the security check and boarded the small boat for the short ride to this icon hotel. During Peter’s business travels to India in the 1980s this was his “barracks”. We decided to treat ourselves to the luxury of a night in this Maharaja’s summer palace and even rearranged our itinerary to be able to secure a booking. As it was we had to take a “luxury” room. What a surprise on checking in when we were advised that since we were only staying one night, our room would in fact be the best suite in the hotel! Apparently Queen Elizabeth stayed in this suite which was one of the original designed by the Maharaja in 1750 for parties with the most selected of his lady friends.

Before the butler opened the door he advised us to “hold your breath”. What a tantalizing statement!! We did hold our breath. On entering this outstanding room – The Khush Mahal Suite, Jan started grinning like a Cheshire cat, and is still grinning! Peter was pleasantly surprised at how well the barracks had scrubbed up (this is a slight understatement, ha ha ha!!!!). Did SP and SS who made the booking for us have an influence on this outcome?

How do we begin to describe the ambience and decorations of the Lake Palace and this opulent suite? Constructed on an island in Lake Pichola opposite the 13th century city palace by the son of the Maharaja to provide a place for moonlight picnics, this icon has 90 rooms, restaurants and havelis. The marble floors and steps are pristine and shimmer, the Belgian glass mosaic doorways are detailed and enchanting, the art works are superb, the Jhankar – the courtyard is also a performance area and around every corner is a treat, like the lotus pond. Our suite was magnificent with an alcove overlooking the lake, a sitting room on one end and a bedroom on the other with a marble floored bathroom as big as a lounge room. Six stained glass windows created a kaleidoscope of colours, tracking the sun’s every movement. Colours twinkled, yellows, greens, pinks, blues, reds, a rainbow played with the lavish furnishings and marble. The antique swing in the centre of the room promised regal Rajasthan. The thick rugs were decorated with a variety of animals, what did Peter say? Old. Yes “they were very old”. Entry was through the palace garden courtyard with the swimming pool and its famous mango tree next door. We walked around and around and took in the sunset and the evening lights of the city palace from several balconies. White washed and scalloped, corridors and windows, The Palace was dreamlike, lights glowed warm and the fabric covers of dining pavilions moved gently in the breeze.

After the evening song and dance entertainment by the bar we had dinner in the Neel Kamal restaurant. Our Table by the window overlooked the lily pond. We enjoyed the signature dish of mixed seafood and an interesting mix of rice with lamb, all served on Versace crockery with gold plated cutlery. The Indian Sauvignon Blanc was a pleasant surprise.

Our Suite, Dinner and the Lake Palace, were truly the makings of a Fantasy. For both of Us, our night there will remain one of our travelling Highlights.

After sleeping well we luxuriated in our room with breakfast in the alcove and then set off to explore every corner of the palace and take even more photos. We dropped our tickets at the travel desk for confirmation of our onward flight that night to Mumbai. Then the reality check; our 2030 flight had already gone, at 0700! Not cancelled, just preponed 13 hours. Fortunately we had looked at the backstops to the once a day flight and found that Ahmedabad was well serviced by many flights throughout the day and into the evening. The travel people got us a booking on an evening flight and our friends in Mumbai contacted our driver to advise the change of plans from a leisurely afternoon cruise around Udaipur to a run to Ahmedabad, 250 km to the south.

We checked out, thanked the staff for the wonderful experience in our magnificent suite and took the boat across to the jetty where Prakash, Peter’s driver for many years was waiting with his thirty year old Ambassador. The drive to Ahmedabad was a pleasant surprise. It used to be a narrow winding road through the Zawar hills and across the plains of Gujarat State with over 50 km of dirt road which took five or six hours. Now it is a four lane, dual carriageway freeway and the journey took less than four hours, although we did share the journey though with the usual crowd. Reality?

Back in Mumbai, we had lunch with SP, and to answer a previous question, SP suggested it was SS who had arranged the upgrade at the Lake Palace for us. I wanted to hug and kiss him, what a treat. Farewells made and Boarding Cards in hand, we were off Home and a different reality. There is no place quite like it, but we had an excellent holiday.

Welcome...

Welcome to the blog of Peter and Jan..

We plan to post our adventures here, to share with our loved ones around the globe.

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