The Garden Station to Rome and back in 365 days (ROME!)

Veni, Vedi, Vici

Words often attributed to one of the most famous of all Roman Emperors,  Julius Ceasar. Well supposedly anyway. I believe a rough translation is "I came, I saw, I conquered"

I would like to add this sentiment to our first sojourn into the Roman night, but I don't think it would be accurate. First off was the intense heat, even after the sun had dipped below the tallest buildings (no idea where the horizon was in reality), secondly Rome is like any other international tourist destination these days and there were always a plethora of itinerant Hawkers selling all manner of pointless goods. Although the one that caught my eye was a collapsible condiment tray. 

We just decided to gently investigate the local area and see if we could spy a suitable place for our first meal in Italy. Around Rome Termini there are plenty of options it transpired. This was also where the largest collection of hotels were centered so restaurants also followed.

We first had to make a visit to see the lovely dog that seemed to spend the night on the flanks of Termini station. It was a friendly dog and it's owner was indulgent so we were able to say a big North East hello. 

In front of the Termini is a bus interchange along with a small market area. On either side of the station run two streets and these contain a range of hotels and restaurants, behind these streets lies a grid of streets all lined with restaurants, hotels and shops. Just about every taste is catered for. Having not been to Italy before we really wanted to sample Authentic Italian Cuisine. After some tramping around the lanes to find a flavour of the local environment we plumped for a restaurant just around the corner from our hotel. I will be honest here. I dont recall the actual restaurent we visited however the Antica Taverna Alba on Via Milazzo looks like the one we went to and is in roughly the right place. So lets say that was it.

Our first Restaurant of the holiday!

We sat out side in the warm Roman night. Very warm Roman night! Did I mention the heat already? 

My wife had recently made the decision to become vegetarian, we were unsure if the Continental attitude to life would stretch to accomodate vegetarianism but we needn't have worried. 

For her main course my wife selected a vegetarian lasagne and subsequently rated it as one of the best meals she had on the entire holiday. I forget what I ordered. Not very good travelogue material but there you are. I write this at some distance in terms of time. I think I chose a pasta dish as not only do I like pasta but I really wanted to see how the authors of the food stuff are prepared to eat it. I tend to overcook it,  smother it in a jar of prepared sauce from the supermarket and then heavily cover in grated cheddar. It is not, I discovered, the way a Roman would eat it. Their way is much better. The pasta is a little firmer and a lot more than a supermarket jar went into the sauce. I think I had something like Alfredo or it may have been Carbonara.

We drank well chilled white wine and ate a gentle pace. As we settled the bill we realised the restaurant had packed up the rest of the outside dining area and we were the last to leave. This would be a theme for me. I think Italians dine earlier if they dine alfresco. Just seemed everywhere packed up around us. It did not spoil our enjoyment and not withstanding that they tidied up around us we were not in slightest encouraged to move or eat faster. They were perfect hosts.

One reason for a close location to the hotel was that after indulging ourselves in Roman cuisine and viniculture we would only have a few steps to waddle back to the comfort of our air conditioned bedroom.

Did I just say air conditioned? Hmm... well it was like this...

We got the first bit right but I would say that the airconditioning was almost, but not quite entirely switched off when we arrived back in our room. Being strangers in a strange land we assumed this was as good as it got. We did get comfortable, sort of, but both suffered a heat and food fuelled uncomfortable doze all night long.

the Garden Station to Rome and back in 365 days (Arrival)

"But that's the glory of foreign travel, as far as I am concerned. I don't want to know what people are talking about. I can't think of anything that excites a greater sense of childlike wonder than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost everything. Suddenly you are five years old again. You can't read anything, you have only the most rudimentary sense of how things work, you can't even reliably cross a street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.”

― Bill Bryson, Neither Here nor There: Travels in Europe

Nothing fits arriving in Rome for the first time like this quote!

Until We were on the ground I didn't realise they were landing aircraft on 2 runways and sending aircraft out on a third, situated at the bottom of the other 2. A particularly Italian design solution. I had seen an American Airlines 777 off in the distance that seemed to be following our trajectory only some distance away. I assumed everyone knew what they were doing but I have a particularly low opinion of Italian competence it would seem that I couldn't be sure. American pilots have previously landed at the wrong airport because Europe all looks the same to them.

Despite my fears surrounding Italian ATC we rolled up to our gate with no hitches. We never fight to get off a flight, something always seems to catch us on the way out so we just take a deep breath and gird our loins for the circus that is passport control/luggage reclaim.

First impressions of Rome Fiumicino (Leonardo Da Vinci - name droppers) were good. Modern airport etc. Passport control was automated and worked fine. So my preconceptions were just that. A tense wait for luggage - you never know if it has made! And then we moved into the throng. We were spotted immediately as travellers in need of transport. Taxi company reps hounded us all the way to the steps of the rail way station.

I watched a You tube just like this one below back in the UK. The train rolls up right into the middle of the airport and I would say it was pretty much the best way to get there so long as your start or destination are close to Termini Station. Which ours was because I booked it that way!

The Train was comfortable with plenty of space for luggage and was a smooth ride. So much so that after the excitement of the flights it was the first chance to unwind and sure enough we both dozed off and failed to see the outskirts of Rome pass by our window

Rome Termini is a pleasant enough experience, as far as mainline train stations go. The train stops quite a long distance from the exit for some reason. The mainline trains pull up to main gates just like you would see at Waterloo station. However the Rome airport express ends up on a platform a good trains length further back so you have a bit of a trek with your luggage just to join the main concourse. 

The main concourse was busy but not over crowded. Lined with shops and coffee outlets 

a picture paints a thousand words

   I think I mentioned I had booked a hotel as close (and possibly as cheap) as I could get to the station. It was situated pretty much at  the exit you can see in the photo. 

So we strolled through the terminus, recently voted top ten in Europe, until we hit the outside world, the heat and the crowds and worked out how to get across the road to our hotel. The hotel Siracusa. The website given will show you a picture of the entrance lobby. It was just as that when we arrived but with a fella at the desk. 

We had braved the road outside, Italians DO rely on other peoples brakes! The heat was growing but we stepped into air conditioned comfort and, as the door swung shut behind us, surprising serenity from the noise outside. The concierge greeted us politely and dealt with our arrival swiftly and efficiently. A surprise to us was an 8 euro room tax applied every night spent in a hotel but seemingly only charged on or after the actual night. I wondered why it couldn't be charged up front but my Italian was not up to enquiring. Mind you my use of Italian barely stretched beyond "Hello" so I was doomed to stay in the dark on this score.

We were handed our keys and staggered to the lift. After calling the lift I was somewhat surprised when the doors opened and my wife frowned as if puzzled, upon which the doors closed. Quick as a flash I called the  lift again and once again the doors opened. This time I discovered the reason for my wife's concern -  someone (The same person my wife must have spyed) was in the lift and that person quickly tried to send the lift upwards. Again.

What was this? Did Romans not actually allow the use of the lift? The lift got away from us this time, so we called it again and decided on tactics. We would rush the doors! I was to throw my suitcase (the biggest) in and my wife was going to follow up by rushing into the lift and gain control of the lift buttons whilst the occupant was pinned to the opposite wall by my suitcase. 

The doors opened but no SAS entry tactics were necessary as it was now empty. We progressed in mildly perplexed silence and then hunted down our room. The hotel appeared to stretch over the top of many business on the street and our room was over the furthest of them it seemed. On arrival of the specified door I placed the key in the keyhole and turned it. The piece of key I was holding turned pleasingly but  the rest of the key did not and soon our key was in two pieces with one half resolutely stuck in the keyhole and the other in my hand. 

This was definitely a first. At that precise moment I was wondering whether booking in haste whilst on a bus (and selecting cheapness) really had been a good idea. A jog down to the concierge (not risking a lift ride - Mk1 staircase) and back eventually delivered some sort of locksmith. Entry was gained and the errant key was extracted using a substantial pair of pliers. 

The room was pleasant enough and with some relief we settled in for a couple of nights. The view from our window was adjacent to the flanks off the Termini station. It was also where the local homeless appeared to gather. One of whom appeared to own a large and friendly dog. This dog became the object of my Wife's attention and we were duty bound to go and say hello to it later in the evening. 

It was late afternoon by this time so we decided to rest up before venturing out for dinner

This, for me was the start of the holiday. There are too many twists and turns involved in travel for me to properly enjoy journeys of this nature. When you are in charge of other peoples happiness there is a certain amount of strain involved. Now that the flying was over my wife could also relax and start to enjoy the scenery.

The Garden Station to Rome and back in 365 days (Travel Phase)

The continuing tale of my summer holiday...
For late arrivals, this is the saga of what happens when you spy a holiday opportunity from a TV show.

Humphrey Bogart

There is a quote attributed to Humphrey Bogart goes something like this

"The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind."

Nowhere is this more apparent than at any airport in the UK in the midst of a holiday season. And Newcastle was no exception. The holiday started early for many expectant tourists including ourselves. I even had a chance to sidle up to one of my work colleague's progeny and put him in fear that the long reach of his Mother might well reach all the way to Magaluf! (it does by the way)

The announcement of our gate for the flight to Rome was made and we stood from our position in the bar, swayed slightly and started to make our way, along with approximately 150 of our fellow travellers. Most of whom had also indulged in a beverage or two. The staff obviously hadn't indulged in a beverage (can't speak for the flight crew!), as a result the quote stands because there is nothing worse than a sober person amongst a group of drinkers. also nothing worse for a sober person than a group of drinkers. The "happy" drinkers are in a completely different place to the staff. And sometimes it shows.

Still, we were at the departure gate and awaiting our boarding instructions. I glanced out of the window and became aware that our plane was not exactly Chameleon like but definitely confused. All the words on the plane spelt "JET2"but the tail insignia showed an insignia I am sure belonged to another company once. I did not make this identification to my Wife. She had already been wound up by a neighbour who pointed out that Jet2 own and operate some of the oldest commercial jet liners in the UK. Not a fact she had wished to be made aware of. There was no point telling her these aircraft are designed for a long life - so they should considering how much they cost!

I find this part of the journey to be the least edifying of my journey. We are penned in like sheep, a few windows available to so that we may watch our luggage being flung about the tarmac. This reminds me of an incidence that occurred to me a few years back in Amsterdam. Follow the link for the details

After what seemed like for ever, whilst nothing very much happened, we were called forward to board our aircraft. My wife gave a reluctant sigh and we joined the throng.

I always marvel at modern aircraft as I cross the threshold of the cabin. It is all calm and smiles as we enter but in a short time the forces of physics that will be exerted on the exterior of the aeroplane are way beyond what a human can experience. The outside temperature is about -60 centigrade and the air is rushing along the fuselage at close to 600 mph. 

Any way back to our flight. We were pretty close to the back of the cabin. I had a window seat and my wife was next to me which was a relief as I was too cheap to cough the extra £5 to ensure we sat together when we booked the flight. I believe Jet2 have won awards as an airline. The cabin was in good shape and belied the aircraft's age. Just as well.

However I did note that the seats were stripped back to the absolute bare minimum as far as structure went. I did wonder whether they had managed to cram another couple of rows in as a result! It felt like one of those parties games I played as a kid. A kind of hide and seek only in reverse where one person hides and then everyone else hunts them down. The difference is that when the hider is found the seeker has to clamber in the same hiding place. Stuck at the back I felt like I was at the end of  very big game of sardines where 150 people had all clambered into the cupboard with me 

Then an announcement came over the public address. It was just the usual "shut up and sit down because we want to get going!" only dressed up as "welcome aboard" type announcement. What intrigued me the first time was that it was preceded by the first few bars of the advert. It was to become something of an albatross around the neck of public announcements for the rest of the flight. ALL public address statements led with this music and by the time we had reached Rome I had heard the refrain at least 20 times. 

Runway 25

We headed up to runway 25, waited for a another jet to land, and then lined up for a our take off run.  I find take off quite exciting. That moment of trepidation when the pilots decide they are going for it, the engine note rises and off we go - we must take off. There is a little fear of the what if...? however. When I see the ground leaving me I am initially quite anxious but soon everything begins to look like Google Earth and I feel much more comfortable. 


The flight travelled down the eastern coast of the leg of Italy and I was able to identify harbours and cites based on my research on the afore mention internet resource. 

Irritating PA jingles aside (and it might just prevent me from travelling with them in the future), the cabin staff were great, My wife HATES flying. with a vengeance. However she does like the destinations when we get there so she goes through it. Fortunately there is medication available and it is called Sauvignon Blanc. Some premeds in  the airport. Followed up by some anaesthetic on the plane and she gets through. I am better but I really cant handle turbulence and that is where I need anaesthetic.

After several anaesthetics the aircraft dipped it's nose and started its descent into Rome Fiumicino airport

Next up...
take the train
Lift problems 
dysfunctional air conditioning
The etiquette of wine tasting

Schiphol and the Golden Shot!

Schiphol airport from the  air

Do you ever wonder how your luggage gets where it's going when you travel by plane?

It is something I care not to think about about too much whilst travelling. Once it rolls down the conveyor belt and drops out of sight with a resounding thud, leaving me wondering in how many pieces my valuables were now in, it is completely out of my hands. I just have to roll up to the carousel at my destination and hope for the best. To be fair I have only lost my luggage once. 

Sometime ago I bought my daughter a shiny new suitcase but the one we collected 8 hours later looked as though it had been dangled from the back of the plane by a rope all the way and struck just about every single blunt object in its path. So perhaps it is better not to inquire!

But I did have an insight when travelling through Amsterdam's Schiphol airport a few years back. I had just arrived back on a "red eye" from the US and guess what? I was a little bleary eyed. The tag line at the time for Schiphol was that all flights were under one roof, no need to change terminals. The result of this (that they didn't tell you) was that you pretty much have to traverse the whole of the Netherlands to reach the gate of your next flight. The plane has already landed in Germany and then taxied all the way back to Amsterdam followed by a forced march up escalators, travelators, past sushi bars, coffee shops and tech stores not to mention fellow travelers

Weary and thirsty after my hike from gate to gate I was assailed with some bad news. Well badish. The flight home was full! However would I like to accept a flight voucher of 150 euros, a flight to Edinburgh instead and a free taxi to my destination. I said yes to all the above

The desk clerk said "Great, thank you very much! now we just have to remove your luggage and send it to the correct flight"
"Fine!" I replied and turned toward a coffee stall I had eyed from a good half mile away as I turned onto the long corridor that led to my gate.
"Ah no, You have to tell us which one it is" She said. My mind raced as I tried to recall the distinguishing features of my suitcase. If I could remember which one I used. I think she could see my jet lagged and sleep deprived mind revolting in the face of such a task.
"You must point it out to us" she said. My mind, grateful at being able to drop the previous task, raced ahead with thoughts of just where and how I would do just that!

At that moment a lad arrived, with an expression not unlike a puppy that just wants to please, holding a radio. He exchanged a few words in what I presumed was Dutch but my language skills are such that I don't recognise English sometimes so it might have been anything. My mind was struggling with imagining just where this lad was going to take me whilst also trying to drag my attention back to the coffee bar.

Fokker 100

Before I could truly begin comprehend what was actually going on, the lad with the radio leapt into action going through a glass doorway and down a set of steps that must of been there before I just hadn't noticed it. 
"Come with me" said the clerk and begun position me at a window from which all I could see was a KLM F100 plane and what looked to my tired eyes a hay wane piled high with luggage. 
Stood next to the hay cart was our puppy eyed friend. He brought his radio to his lips and some words crackled across the airwaves onto the radio that the girl next me was carrying
"Can you see your suitcase?"she asked. I replied in the affirmative and said it looked like it was half way up the pile on the right hand side
"Can you direct him to it?" she asked
"Well I will give it a try" I don't know any Dutch so I thought I probably couldn't but what she meant was that I could relay the instructions to her and she would direct her colleague.

What followed was an episode of a show called the Golden Shot. An early 1970's game show hosted by Bob Monkhouse where callers direct the aim of  crossbow at a target whilst just calling up, down, left, right and fire. 
And so it came to pass that I called 
"Up a bit, left a bit" etc etc. Instead of the cross hairs of a crossbow bolt I had a young lad with an out stretched arm with his index finger pointing at various items of travel paraphernalia. The catch was that there was an inevitable delay from my instruction,to it being interpreted by the clerk, recieved by the bloke on the hay cart and then executed.

It was quite some feat by this lad. He eventually had to start scaling the luggage mountain with his radio in hand and then point at luggage. Not an inconsiderable task.

My yet to be coffee addled brain was struggling with the whole bizarre nature of this event

After a few over fly's we landed on my luggage and then baggage handlers were summoned not only to retrieve my suitcase but the lad on cart also as he had become entangled in some netting around the suitcases. He returned to the departure lounge, eventually, after transferring the case to the cart heading for Edinburgh and received a metaphorical pat on the head from the clerk and he went on his way, no doubt to climb other mountains but also with the applause from the departure lounge ringing in his ears.

The morale of the story is that if you have ever wondered what happens to your luggage when you are in the air spare a thought for the handlers as they may just have moved mountains to get it to you

The Garden Station to Rome and Back in 365 days (Phase one)

The continuing saga of my holidays...

A recap. My wife saw a TV show- liked the scenery. Destination - Italy. I mucked around a bit (on the Internet) whilst on a bus to work from time to time and found hotels and flights and such.

Last time I promised you a taxi driver with a personality bypass. Unfair - I don't know what sort of day or rather night he had had. What became apparent early in the journey however, was that he was the least talkative taxi driver I ever came across. If it hadn't been so unusual I would of enjoyed it. I have had drivers of a broad range of beliefs and bigotry, all of which have attempted to gain one more for their following by describing these beliefs in great detail. 

This lad though just drove. Well, I was almost offended. Was I not good enough to follow what ever path he sought for himself? 

The part of the journey that is just before you actually leave the house is my least favourite moment. It is too late to change any plans so I should be able to relax and enjoy. However there are 2 sayings that cross my mind at this point. 

A chain is only as strong as it's weakest link
What can go wrong will go wrong (dear old Murphy)

All the planning that goes into a holiday, the packing, checking passports are in date, etc etc. and it all comes to a complete stop if you don't actually do something fundamental and actually arrive at the airport. Or forget the tickets (been there)

I booked the taxi over the phone. Dead easy just gave my post code and destination and a rough guide to the price. However the confirmation text only listed the address that was at the top of the list of houses that share our post code. I briefly considered whether this would really matter? I mean the house in question was only five doors up the street so it would be quite easy to leap out of the door and flag the driver down. Good sense got the better of me. I rang the taxi firm and they apologised for the erroneous text and yes they did have the correct door number. I did just wonder how often people jump out of the "wrong" house and demand to be carried somewhere, At 4 in the morning. I just didn't fancy that conversation at that moment at that time of day.

So all good, taxi firm texted me 3 times to tell me the make and model of car, the drivers name and how long until he arrived, The last text arrived shortly after he did but he got the right door. He helped me load the suitcases (not a given quite frankly) and then took a vow of silence for the rest of the journey save for a "thank you" on payment. 

It was a smooth ride to be fair, on our first date myself and my date (now my lovely wife) were nearly wiped out by a taxi driver who thought that having a loaded taxi travelling at speed through the streets of Shields was an ideal moment to see whether his brakes were in need of repair. A moment of joint jeopardy that worked my in favour as we "laughed" about it for months!

Once inside we joined a long queue of luggage, families, fractious children/couples and nearly all dressed for the beach already. 

There is not much more one can say about checking in for any flight. Most of us have done it these days they are pretty much the same where ever I have been. 

The same goes for security checks as we all suspend our personal space issues in the very necessary name of safety.

And so to duty free...

It has been  long time, in my opinion since the term "Duty Free" actually corresponded to any kind of actual deal. Still all those "luxury" goods are thrown at you as you progress to the most important part of the journey, the bar. 

So important have duty free sales become to airports these days it is now impossible to enter Newcastle passenger lounges with out running the gauntlet of aggressive Toblerone displays and itinerant perfume dispensers. My good wife sees it slightly differently I have to say. she enjoys a little wander through the exotic merchandise.


Having gained our consumer fix we arrived in the passenger lounges with bars and restaurants and coffee shops etc. This leads me to a question, and I have researched the answer far and wide (well family, friends and work!). The question is .... At what time is it OK to have an alcoholic beverage when awaiting your holiday flight?

You see it was not quite 6 in the morning and we had a good hour to kill. My research was inconclusive as regards a definitive consensus of opinion on this conundrum.  A lot of people would select a favourite tipple as this was officially the start of the holiday and so it was OK. Some would extend that philosophy to any time of day or night. When awaiting your holiday flight it was "De reiguer" to enjoy an alcoholic beverage of choice. And not just one but not so many you are denied access to your flight. However some respondents found early morning drinking was not suitable for them.

I was of the of the first group as was my wife. She was not getting on the plane without one. So we had two.

Next time .....
A flight of Sardines! Rome! As well as answers to important questions such as "who gets to test the wine?"

The Garden Station to Rome and back in 365 days (Overture)

A wise man once said that "a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step." I think it is attributed to Bhudda but that might be a Mandela effect! 

So here goes....

Last August My wife and I returned from Italy on the occasion of our first wedding anniversary.  We were married at the Garden Station at Langley It was a quirky venue and right up our street. However the route which led us to the steps of this venue were long and winding and worth of a series of blogs all by themselves.



It was just happenstance that we were on our holidays at that moment but it was a serendipitous way to round off to the year. 

Whilst awaiting our flight in Newcastle Airport. We reflected on a few issues relating to our journey and I made a mental note to record them and the subsequent turn of events


Let me take you back to a particularly rank January morning 2018 and my wife and I were just enjoying a morning coffee before setting off to our respective work places. On the telly was a early 00's US sitcom called "Everybody Loves Raymond". In this particular episode He and his family had travelled to Rome to meet his extended family. Once out of Rome they travelled to a picturesque Italian village next to a lake. My wife was very taken with the scenery. So much so she hunted it down on the Internet

The Garden Station

The village was called Anguillara Sabazia. And so the die had been cast. We also were to take a holiday in that fair village.

But, and there is always a but in these stories, we came across a small hiccough at this stage. Anguillara, it appears, is a long way off the UK holiday radar. Rome is only 19 miles away and many high street holiday companies were falling over themselves to offer me two whole weeks in Rome itself or even, if I was so inclined, some time in Naples. In fact I could visit many places of deep historical interest along with the capital  and  many more places besides, but not Anguillara Sabazia. They had never heard of it. 

So we delved into the world of online holiday construction. Many people do it this way these days. With the various online tools and web companies out there it is a way of creating a bespoke holiday package. The only advantage of the package holiday, in my opinion, is that in a strange land the package deal will get you from your flight to a bedroom with as little fuss as possible. Well almost. But it I do like the certainty that I will arrive at a hotel/residence on leaving my home. 

With this slight anxiety in my mind (but not my wife's - she does not necessarily share my concerns!) we searched flights. This is an area that can be as simple or as complicated as you like. I used Kayak.co.uk, there are many more but I have used this before and find it easy and useful. It is reasonable simple to adjust your preferences of times, destinations, number of stops etc and it even gives you a hint as to whether it is a good time to buy or not (my hint - ignore it!)

I guess the lesson learnt for me would be to check flight schedules before booking leave at your place of work. I booked 2 weeks in August with  out knowing whether I could encompass my trip to Rome's environs in that time. I felt confidant to be fair. Rome is a quite well known city thanks to his holiness The Pope. Therefore, I surmised, finding flights should be a doddle.

So I had my holiday dates and now searched for appropriate venues. The interweb listed many hotels in the Anguillara area but distances varied wildly and bookings filled rapidly and before I knew it all the closest and the nicest were gone. My next hit on the w.w.w. was AirBnB. A well known site that hosts people who put their own homes and flats up for rental. Hey presto we found a flat slap bang in the centre of town with a view of the lake (Lake Braccianno). Self catering obviously but well within our budget. We loved it. On trying to book it we found that we could only hire it for 10 nights due to a previous booking. Not a problem we thought, a mild shame but not problem. So I leapt in and booked it. And we were happy.

Not so fast lanky one (me) I started to look for flights. The flat was booked from a Sunday and I started scrolling all the various options for travel. Quite frankly I could have spent the day of travel criss crossing Europe on any number of options and airlines. But the issue I was not allowing for was my wife's abhorrence of flying. This was no small issue. Bless her heart though because she will drag herself through airport security for the sake of a decent holiday - but there is a price to pay! This was to have consequences

When I started a conversation about our travel options I was reminded, in no uncertain terms, about her serious dislike of flying and that she especially disliked takeoff and landing. Such was her feelings on this matter it became obvious to me that I could not put her through 4 of her worst moments before we even got to Rome. We must have a direct flight.

Doh!

You cannot fly direct to Rome from the north east of England on a weekend. Nor mid week. Just Monday and Friday! We had the choice of losing a day at the flat or spend two days in Rome either side of our time in Anguillara! Yeah no contest really

I had to crawl back to work and beg the extra days leave.

There was still a choice to be had. Jet2 operated all but 1 of the flights to Rome. I have excluded Ryanair as they go to an ex military airfield which is not connected to the Italian rail network. In fact it was no choice. Once I took into account the cost of getting to all the various airports they outweighed any cost benefit of not going from Newcastle. The flight times were quite good from our nearest airport too. The only problem was the cost. For a flight in August the cost was very similar to a trans Atlantic one. 

At this point I decided to do just what I nearly always do when confronted with a difficult decision - I ran away from it! well only for a little while. I was convinced the price would become cheaper. They weren't going to sell many seats at that price I reasoned.

I was sort of right but also  little wrong

I turned my attention to the accommodation to be had in Rome. As is my want I paid attention to the ridiculous TV advertisements that suggest Trivago should be my website of choice when it comes to hotel booking. It wasn't bad to be fair. In fact I would go as far as to say it was as good as it said on the ads. Perhaps not, but I used it all the same.

The website presents a map of your chosen destination covered in little flags containing a number. The number is the price for a room at a specific hotel located somewhere near where the flag has been placed. My eyes were of course drawn to the flags containing the smallest number, naturally. I was pleased to find however, that Rome was covered in lots and lots of flags. I compared this to London at the same period and could not find half as many, or as cheap! Interesting. 

Still it was now late June and we were flying in less than six weeks so I did not feel in a position to question this apparent mismatch. Trivago allowed me to rate hotels based on visitor reviews and My main concern was cost but I knew my lady wife would not feel comfortable in any old hotel room so I made a concession to cleanliness. I know, I know but i just cant help being thoughtful! I hope my wife doesn't read this. What am i saying I am usually lucky if ANYBODY reads these.

Onwards. Cleanliness and cost (not necessarily in that order) taken account of, position was paramount. The hotel on our first visit had to be within easy reach of the mainline station we would step off. Roma Termini. I will explain. I may have mentioned that my wife is not really very keen on flying, to counter this regular consumption of alcoholic beverages is required before and during the flight. Not copious amounts just a bit of dutch courage but regular dosing. After arrival at our destination the resultant come down of sobering up and relief at having survived can end in a short period of deep sleep. When I was a kid I was a Boy Scout and one of their motto's was "Expect the unexpected" or it may have been "Be prepared" splitting hairs really.

Roma Termini

To fulfil this motto I felt I needed to select a hotel so close to the Termini that I had half a chance of not only dragging two suitcases but  also doing this whilst carrying my wife on my shoulder. The area around the Termini apparently is known as a hotel district so this was not a hard decision and I selected the cheapest..... and cleanest.

For our return I rather fell into the same pattern but for different reasons. I was more confident of not having to carry my wife at this stage but lugging large suitcases through any city in high Summer is to be avoided. And I nearly succeeded but more on that in a later post

I felt quite pleased with myself at this point. A dangerous habit. Accommodation booked! Just get on with the flights. I was right that the flight price did indeed drop. Unfortunately only by £10 a seat. I dived in to make sure we could actually arrive at all this accommodation I booked and the the whole deed was done. 

I do get irritated by these "value" airlines booking procedures. The advertised price in some cases literally just gets you on the plane. If you want to carry any sort of luggage hold or other wise you find fees cropping up all over the place. To be fair the flights are still cheaper than old fashioned scheduled airlines but that is not the point. I chose not to pre book seats which meant there was a risk my wife and I would not sit together. My wife was not too bothered but I felt it was my duty to be on hand as moral support.

And so the prelude is done. All we had to do was turn up and enjoy the moment

Next up : a taxi driver with NO conversation, early morning  drinking (benefits there of) and an eventless journey (No Really)

Brexit, Trump and the World Cup

In an earlier post I mentioned how politicians use public occasions to gloss over their follies, in that case it was a royal wedding. They missed a trick. They should have put the wedding on the same day as the England World Cup semi final and Theresa May could of declared Martial Law and no one would have batted an eyelid. That is how complete the demographics would have been occupied. 
I would say I was in a largish minority that had no interest in the Windsor nuptials but I was in a large majority that was more interested in the England Football teams progress. Whilst mostly white males even my wife got her dander up during the match so we had most bases covered.

I was about to say that the Duke and Duchess of Sussex were not as good at uniting a nation due to their status as, just about as upper class as it is possible to get in this country. Overpaid, under worked and so pampered it is embarrassing to a democratic nation. However I have to admit that those labels almost completely cover Premiership footballers as well with the exception of the upper class bit. 
In this day and age it seems more national pride rotates around a squad of footballers than anything else. 
It has been a long time since it felt so good to be English though. And don't come back at me with all the stupid things drunken supporters did after the Sweden game. I never said England was a perfect place. 
Many countries recognise how sport can unite a disparate population. Except UK politicians it seems. Although some are content to ride the waves of the winners. It was encouraging to me that where ever you are on the Brexit debate we all came behind the three lions when it mattered.

So to Trump

I don't quite understand why there are people kicking off about his visit. He has many problems as a political leader in my view but he is a democratically elected leader of a democratic country. It is not as if Theresa May was trying to cuddle up to a violent dictator. I guess people have the right to protest.

My nemesis - I shall not name him, he just seems to be able to thrive on any publicity of any kind, was on the telly this week boxing for Trump and all out Brexit. His comments included the notion that all these trading blocks (EU, BRIC etc) were ideologically wrong and what we needed were individual nation states making bi lateral trade deals with other nation states. That's right, lets put the clock back 150 years. 

This may sound attractive to the likes of my nemesis but, as ever, it only really suits the big players. The Lithuania's of this world, or in fact any small nation, have very little negotiating room. Nothing to give and plenty to lose. It is interesting that this idea should come from the US. Currently one of the big players. What groupings like the EU give is some clout. Does the UK have enough clout to go it alone completely. The answer is it all depends

What is it this country does well? At the moment it is financial services. There is manufacturing and oil but it is financial services that largely keep the country on the straight and narrow. But can it provide work for the  entire country? Should it? 

However it looks like the UK Government has bottled it and gone for the sugar free option.