Dedicated to my dear parents- a truly inspiring pair xo
It's fair to say, that it is because of my mum and dad, that us girls were born with the inbuilt travel bug.
So when mum, in her usual caring and 'always thinking of everyone else before herself ' manner, suggested that maybe, if it wasn't cramping my style, and ONLY if I was sure, she might like to join me when i hit France, I was RAPT.
Honest to god, I'm weird like that, the thought of sipping coffee and munching on fresh crossaints with my frenchie friend/mum filled me with glee!
So after much reassurance on my part, and the firm yet gentle encouragement of my ever supportive and precious dad, the plans were put in place.
Actually, its fair to say, that I was rather preoccupied with the earlier parts of my trip, so mum did most of the planning.
And my god, her planning was good.
Coming from sunny Spain, the skys seemed duller, they were definately rainier, but my spirits couldn't have been higher. I was back in gay Pareee darhhling! And.. I was about to meet up with one of my favourite women in the world.
After succesfully tackling the Metro and, with luggage in one hand and my brolly in the other, I managed to navigate myself to 'our' address.
Our VERY OWN PARISIAN APARTMENT- if you don't mind!
(One of the many plus-es of travelling with mum was her insistence that we stay in better than average accomodation, which after months of schlepping it in hostels, I was NOT complaining about.)
And then, silently congratulating myself on my improved sense of direction AND punctuality, and with rain dripping off my nose, I waited. After a while, a taxi crawled it's way through the cobblestone streets and stopped right infront of me. The passenger was preoccupied with paying, but then she turned and started laughing, because there I was grinning madly and waving at her through the window.
Mother and daughter re-united.
After much hugging and gleeful giggling, we made our way up the tiny twirly staircase that led to our first floor front door. And entered a dream come true!It was perfect. Spacious and light filled with bright moroccon-esque furnishing and windows which had wooden shutters that opened right onto the bustling street.We could not believe our luck.
For a whole week we could completely immerse oursleves in the heart of Paris and pretend to be genuine Frenchies! Bliss!
We wasted no time in catching up on each other's news over a genuine cafe au lait ( coffee with milk) and a fresh chevre ( goats cheese) baguette. ( A meal which would be repeated a ridiculous amount!) mmmmmm :)
The next week flew by in a fabulous flurry of rich, mouth watering food ,easy , fun company and surreal sights which I'd seen pictures of since I was a child.
We woke up every morning to the hustle and bustle of the Parisians going about their morning routines and we quickly developed a lovely routine of our own. I would go out for a walk, enabling mum to have a precious lie in with a good book. I would soon return though, with a fresh, warm French baguette from the local boulangerie ( not sure how to spell it, but it's basically a delectable smelling bakery!) We'd then feast at our little kitchen table on this fluffy, more-ish bread, with pots of berry jam and tea. Perfection...
During the week, we climbed to the very top of the Eiffel tower( well as high as you can go before they make you take a lift!)
This is no easy feat , either I might add. Incase you failed to notice, that thing, is tall! The view however was well worth it.
I visited the Louvre, where I was surprised and a little amused to find myself being quite moved by the Mona Lisa . Maybe there was even a tiny tear shed. Maybe :)
We roared with laughter over a one man show called " how to be a Parisian ", which was basically just a piss-take of all the snobby,snooty ( surprisingly factual) stereotypes about Parisian people.
We celebrated Mum's b'day. I insisted on creating the traditional Smyrk family ' b'day chair' and declared it a day of essential COMPLETE over-indulgence. A challenge which we both completed admirably.
We scoffed down more delectable, rich , traditional food, polished off many a bottle of vino and toasted mum with Cassis and champagne. That night there also happened to be street festival of 'light' which I insisted I'd set up earlier with the relevant authorities in honour of mum! ( such power!) It was stunning and it's overall theme was 'embrace everyones' differences' which again , we happily toasted!
After a week,we were sad to say goodbye to our little Parisian home, but our 'schedule' told us it was time to move on. Baguette and take away coffee in hand, we caught the train to Aux En Provence ( sorry if I've murdered the spelling again!)
It was lovely and sunny here, which was a welcome change and the market filled streets were lined with rows of leafy trees.
Here we continued to consume ridiculous amounts of cheese and wine and saw a fantastic little French string/ brass quartet. Despite my school - girl French, I was able to enjoy it thoroughly , due mainly to the theatrics and European melodrama of the lead singer- fun!
Oh.. AND I headbutted a waiter. Yep. Well, his tray at least. He was coming to our table with a tray of drinks that we'd ordered and I leant forward at just the right/ wrong time and headbutted his tray. This basically resulted in a whole glass of wine whacking me on the forehead and then emptying itself all over me! I literally had wine dripping off my nose...The waiter was horrified and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Mum laughed. Alot. So did I... after a wrung out my hair . Classic me. :)
After a few days in this lovely warm town, we caught another train to Marseillles. This time mum's choice of hotels, literally left us speechless ( which, as I'm sure you know, is NOT a common occurence for me!)
Our window was perched on the edge of a very pictureresque cliff face which was directly ontop of the ocean. A tiny turn to right,and there was our very own, gem of a beach. Amazing.
To celebrate our good fortune, we ate THE MOST DELICIOUS fresh, balsamic and goats cheese baguettes and drank ice cold wine ( sensing a dining theme yet?!)
The next few days were passed in a blissful haze of sunbaking on our little beach and eating dips and crackers by our window as the sun set over the ocean.
Again, we were reluctant to leave this fantastic find, but our track record was getting good, so I trusted the next place would be just as brilliant. It was. Another train ride and we arrived in Nice. VERY Nice . he he :)
We stayed in this funny little hotel called Hotel Paradise , which was situated smack bang next to the Armani and the Gucci store. ( Yet disgracefully, every morning we emerged in our t-shirts and jeans- nothing but couture for us!)
We spent our days wandering along the Cote d' Azur, which well and truly live up to it's name, and we explored a fantastic food/flower/souvenir market. We drank frothy cappucinos and cheered a three piece jazz/American folk (!?) band which was playing in the middle of the square. We then ate the most amazing ( your guessed it ) goats cheese burgers and crunchy homemade pomme frites ( chips!) Just writing about that meal makes my mouth water...
The next day after practising our pronunciatian an annoying amount of times we took the train to Ventimigla- Italy baby!
We hadn't planned to stop over here, but there was another massive transport strike in France and we were advised to get out while we could. So thus we landed in Italy a day early, without the comfort blanket of Mum's fabulous french speaking.
And let me tell you. This place was a perfect introduction to Italian food. oh. my. god.
We squeezed our way into a little local bar, with loud talking, grey haired Italian men on one side and glamourous dark haired women on the other. Gleefully we feasted on free tapas ( yep free- with every drink!) and wine.
Then we discovered a little restaurant hidden away down a little street, where the atmosphere was warm and so were the staff, who kept plying us with sparkling wine and free spirits. I ate probably the best pasta of my life. Basic spag bol , but with fresh , amazing ingredients, that made me want to eat it over and over again. If only I wasnt so damn full ....
The next day we trained it to a huge central station , aptly named St Lucia (!!) and before we knew it we were standing on the banks of the grand canal- Venice. And once again- (incredibly) lost for words.
It was just like all the pictures , but with so much more. Dappled light played off the water and real life gondalas drfited down stream, laden down with singing men in striped shirts and boating hats! Wow.
A kindly old Italian stereotype of a man insisted on leading us ( over sooo many steps, with our luggage) straight to our hotel. And refused to accept payment, simply tipped his hat and twinkled his eyes. Lovely.
It was a funny little place which reminded me of someone's fussy grandma's house- groaning with trinkets and pictures of jesus and ( weirdly) a real life pet parrot!
We settled in nicely to our little room, which once more had shutters which opened right onto the cobblestone alleyway.
The night called for a magical toast overlooking the sparkling canal, complete with free fat olives and oily bruschetta.
I arose each morning to get in a jog up and over the many bridges which characterise this city. I'd return to join mum for a free brekkie, served painstakingly by our landlady, and then we'd venture out together into our little street.
And EVERY morning, as the sunlight dappled across the water and we marvelled about the glorious lack of cars, we stood still for a moment and just drank in the view. It was quite surreal.
We passed a lovely few days, wandering through alleys of markets, eating fresh gelato, and adoring the anticipation of yet another evening meal of truly amazing food.
We went to the Peggy Guggenheim museum which was a very impressive collection of artworks by practically every master, BEFORE they became a master. This woman practically dicovered and nurtered Picasso!
I was surprised by my reaction to a nighttime concert that we went to. It was opera, which i was slightly indifferent towards, but interested in. It was also a selection of Vivaldi classics, and despite my initial misgivings, it reduced both mum and me to tears.
We rode a very touristing ferry right along the grand canal and ate pastries and coffee in the sun.
A particularly memorable meal ( one of many) was a simple salad in the afternoon light, in a restaurant which was literally sitting RIGHT on the canal. Fun!
I soon truly realised why everyone always assumes I'm Italian ( apart from my name!)
Many of the women looked much more like my sisters than my actual sisters!
And, if I wasn't happily taken, mum kept boasting that she could have easily ' sold me off' to a million potential suitors!
Some of the Italian men were hilarious. After being informed that yes, I do have a boyfriend, one man dropped to his knees, clutching his heart and making sound effects - " You hear that sound? that is the sound of my heart breaking!!!" and... " Oh your name is Lucia, you know that means light? And its true, you are the light of my life , you light up my tunnel of darkness!" Hilarious.
Love a bit of drama in a man!
Our next stop, after reluctantly tearing oursleves away from Venice was Florence. Which I knew very little about. Apart from that red headed talent who sings and has a machine : )
And I adored it.
We were staying in one of the most amazing hotels yet. It was literally an old medi-evil building which had ( kind of) been converted into a hotel. Our room looked like something out of a Jane Austen novel, complete with a roof mural and windows that opened right into the city centre, with a perfect view of the famous Dome of Diamo.
We spent our mornings having brekkie delivered to our " chambers" and then ( just for a change) wandered markets and ate amazing risotto, salads, pasta and thin crispy crusted pizzas. We even claimed a 'local' bar- which boasted endless free bruschetta every evening ( a very filling danger when planning to follow it with a full meal- but too delicious to ignore!)
Mum explored a few museums which i couldnt afford and individually we climbed up our neighbouring Diamo- up an endless stone winding staircase which resulted in a spectacular mural on the domed roof and a wonderful view of the city.
We went along to a fun fully costumed opera, whihc was suitably melodramatic and entertaining.
Mum very generously ( with the help of my ALSO very generous friends) bought me an early birthday gift of a gorgeous pair of genuine suede ankle boots, which i will wear with Florence in my footsteps!
Then it was time to see Michalangelo's famous little pant-less friend. We were both kind of expecting ' David' to be just like all the pictures- impressive and a must- see, but not mindblowing.
It was mindblowing.
The second we walked into the hall where he is displayed in all his glory, we simply stopped and stared. It is a total work of incredible art. And my god he's huge! ( although surprisingly not in the manhood department ; ) )
WE watched everyone entering the hall and they all had exactly the same awe-struck reaction that we did.
Like so many of the sights I saw around Europe, it was something I's seen so many replications of, I just wasnt prepared for the everlasting impression the real thing could have. Truly breathtaking.
Then to Rome, where again we were blown away by the mammoth, slightly gruesome ruins of the Colleseum and then the Pantheon. Such history, some of it so unfair- yet fascinating.
And then, before we knew it, and we couldnt quite believe it, our shared european adventure was coming to a close.
I cheekily declared our last day another occasion of 'essential, complete overindulgence!' and we basically spent the whole day eating. Bliss : ) Gelato, pastries, spinach and ricotto canneloni, meatballs, garlic pizza, and blueberry pie! S
uitably sated and ridicululously full, we collapsed into out lovely hotel room ( complete with mini chandeliers- mum had decided to lash out!)
The next morning , in true mum style, she insisted on accompaning me to the airport, even though this meant she would then have to wait there for her flight for hours. It was a lovely gesture though and meant we could have one last brekkie feast together( albiet airport style.)
When we squeezed each other goodbye, I started to well up. We had just shared a truly memorable and indescribable experience. As mother and daughter/ addicted travellers/massive foodies and dearest friends, we had combined our love for Europe, with our love for each other and the result was a trip which will always be fondly and firmly embedded in a very special corner of my heart. J'adore maman. xx
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