A Minor Miracle For Mangini's

The Minor Miracle Being Three Days In The City Of Canals Without A Dunking!!

Venice is without doubt one of the true wonders of the world and our trip started in style. Picked up at our hotel doors by executive mercedes with blacked out windows leather everywhere and air conditioning turned up full blast. If only George Clooney had been inside too Debra would have been well chuffed! We were whisked to the train station around thirty miles away with a slight delay for traffic build up on one of the roads and a couple of German lads bursting at the seams jumping from their car and peeing for what was an unusual length of time by the roadside in front of us. That bit of excitement out of the way we arrived at the train station with plenty of time to spare. The local train to Venice pulled in first and hoards of tourists crushed in to the un-air-condition carriages, joining the already sweating throng of tourists from further up the line. Our Eurocity train rolled up a few minutes later and we were in our pre-booked table seats in no time and on our way in air conditioned spacious comfort. Thankfully I had researched and found that prebooking seats online was not expensive. Rather like booking via the trainline website there are bargains to be had. Arrival at Venice Saint Lucia Station was a perfect way to get a first glimpse of the canals and beautiful buildings that the city had to offer. Through the concourse and into the afternoon heat and bustling madness we went. Tourist travel tickets purchased we were on a Vaperetto (water bus) in no time on our way along the Grande Canal, zigzagging from one side to the other, dropping off and picking up tourists and locals alike. Underneath the Rialto Bridge, past the Peggy Gugenheim Museum and onward toward the famous Saint Marks Square. Unsurprisingly it had changed very little since our first visit. There were still thousands of Chinese, Japanese, American, European, Asian tourists crammed in. Thankfully we didn't have to get off there. By the time we made it a few more stops along the line there was more space to manoeuvre. You don't get much time to get off once the vaperetto has slammed into the side so we jumped ship and found ourselves on dry land with only a short walk to our hotel.

Showered sustained and suitably refreshed a short time later we were back on board making the same journey only in reverse towards Saint Marks Square, which thankfully had cooled off and calmed down considerably as most of the day trip tours had left. Walking around the square listening to the music from string quartet, jazz band and piano at the various outside café evoked strong memories of our last visit, in fact I think they may have been playing the same set! Walking out of the square in no particular direction and getting lost in the quiet alley ways is part of the charm of the city and we did just that. For a good hour or so we twisted and turned, crossed bridge after beautiful bridge, watched gondoliers navigate with a skill that made it seem effortless and finally popped out at another arched street entrance to Saint Marks Square, not knowing how we had managed it and knowing we would probably never manage to find the quirky shops and bars we had passed along the way. Not to worry though as there are hundreds more to go at the next day. Well we had popped out into the square it seemed like just the right time to park ourselves at one of the fine café, listen to the music and have a drink. Don't worry we were well informed of just how expensive it would be but what the hell, when in
Venice and all that! To tell the truth the dry martini I had was possibly the best I have ever tasted and Debra's wine was perfectly chilled and delicious too so the eventual bill had a more palatable flavour to it and the band were very good too!

Day two, my Birthday and it was more of the same. Start in the square, point in a direction and start walking through the alleyway. We ended up this time on the other side of the city next to the hospital, watching the ambulance boats zoom away with lights flashing and horns blaring. One thing about Venice is that you are never too far away from a vaperetto stop and we hopped on board the next one that came along, which delivered us to the island of Murano, famous for it's glass foundries and wares of all different shapes, sizes and colours. The heat emanating from the foundry doors was so intense that paying three euros each for the privilege of sitting watching the artisan at work was not an option, it was hot enough outside as it was! Walking along the canal side with shop after shop of Murano Glass was a wonder to begin with but it got slightly tedious and I couldn't help thinking that if you opened a shop selling anything but glass somewhere along the strip you would make a killing. Thankfully there were a few trattoria dotted along the way which made the burden bearable and the fish dishes tasted amazing. Back over to Venice and more walking. This time we popped out at the Realto Bridge having set off in the complete opposite direction, we weren't surprised though. We had promised the kids a ride on a gondola to immerse ourselves in the culture, but when Olivia had seen hundreds pass by with all sorts of people in them being gawked at she decided it was far too tacky and cheesy a past time so it saved me a good hundred euro and I was a happy chappy! What a way to spend my Birthday though, in the city and with the people I most love in this world!!

Our last day and we decided to hit the Lido Beach. Fully caked in factor fifty and laden with beach towels we trotted off in search of sand. When we got there it was so windy, we were instantly sand blasted and covered head to toe in sticky sand encrusted sun tan lotion. The red flags were flying and only the bravest kite surfers were out in the wild ocean. We walked to the edge, dipped our toes in, picked up a few shells, had a chat to a very nice local lady who was picking up clams for her lunch and then made our way back through the sandstorm to our hotel for much needed showers.

The journey back to Lake Garda was as efficient, delightful and un-eventful as our journey to Venice, except for one mishap which occurred just outside Venice as the train was silently travelling along the causeway linking Venice to the mainland. Debra was too busy looking out of the window to keep an eye and a hand on her newly opened can of beer and when the train suddenly came to a halt the can didn't and it first hit her in the crotch are, thankfully not spilling too much, then hit the floor, where upon the impact sent it fizzing down the aisle below the seats, wetting the feet of the mid west bible belt yanks who had just removed there shoes to get some air to their feet. A quick dash to the toilet, a handful of paper towels and me being apologetic in my best British accent as I was prostrate on the floor mopping up the spillage from around them and us. After the incident had passed and I was back on my seat downing my own beer I over heard one of them in their American twang say "yes it was beer but it's ok, they are Brits", to which I made like a toast to the queen and finished off the can ready for the next!

Fainting Kids And An Emotional Return

How the Italians manage to work in this heat is beyond me. Although working at anything other than a snails pace is beyond them. Once we had gotten our heads around Italian time it all works perfectly. If you want to catch a scheduled bus at 11.30 be prepared to wait until 12.00. If you want a taxi be prepared to hang around while he decides if it is worth his while and if you want a bell boy to help you lug your bags to your room be prepared to do it yourself. If I had known just how far up the hill our room was I would have waited until hell froze over for the bell boy, but being on English time and wanting desperately to get out of my jeans that were stuck to my legs like a (very) wetsuit I decided to lug our luggage myself, up, up and up until just short of heart failure and less a couple of litres of body fluid we reached our room. On a positive side it does have a vast balcony with what must be one of the most wonderful views of Garda and the lake beyond.

Once we had recovered from our journey it was only fair that a sample of the local vino, which we fell in love with on our first visit to the area, was called for. A few bottles of Bardalino later and Italian time started working its magic on us all!

Our first day was spent walking the streets of Garda, stopping off at various lakeside cafe's, sampling the famous Italian ice cream, coffee and Peroni. The second day I decided on the spur of the moment that we should take a stroll along the lakeside walkway to Bardolino, having read on tripadvisor that it was a beautiful way to spend an afternoon. Unfortunately you shouldn't believe everything you read. The stroll started well enough until just after the point of no return you suddenly come up to a campsite on one side of the walkway and hundreds of winnibago type campers on the lake side of the walkway jostling for position with their fold up camp tables, sun beds, deck chairs and cool boxes that look more like chest freezers. I was wondering if those folded away too! Let's just keep on walking it won't be long before the campsite is out of the way we stupidly thought. It sprawled all along the lakeside, spewing out camper after camper until Bardalino came in sight, and to make matters worse Oscar was hobbling and moaning because his flip flops had rubbed and caused blisters in between his toes. If you have ever been on a sweltering hot holiday on a dusty walkway with thousands of happy campers and a moaning teenage kid with bad feet you will know exactly how I was feeling at that moment .....and people wonder why I drink so much! To cut a long story short our trip to Bardolino was a really nice one once I had binned the bloody flip flops and spent a small fortune on a pair of Converse Pumps for Oscar who seemed to recover very well after that!

Please don't read this blog thinking that everything is disastrous for us as it is far from it. We are having a wonderful time here but it doesn't make for good reading when all I am telling you is how wonderful this meal was or that boat trip or that stroll along the the walkway in the other direction was. So I am trying to concentrate on the things we have done and are now laughing at after the consequences have dispersed.

A case in point would be our day trip to Melcesine, which is about twenty miles up the lake with a cable car that transports you to the top of Monte Baldo.

After waiting forty five minutes extra for the local bus (remember we are on Italian time so it didn't bother us) we got to Melcesine and walked up to the cable car station where we were greeted with a line of people snaking around the steps and up the road. The decision to join the back of the queue was taken and we kept telling ourselves as it juddered along that it wouldn't be too long before we were in the relative sanctuary from the beating sun of the station. After an hour or so we were there only to discover that the line of Sweaty Fat Germans was not only snaking outside the building but also up three flights of stairs in an un-air conditioned state of distress. We had come this far it would be silly to waste the money and turn back now I told everyone, who didn't look the slightest bit convinced but we carried on up and up and up until we finally reached the turnstiles and the vision of fresh air filled mountain with a cable car making its way toward us. All of a sudden the doors across the way opened and dozens of mountain bikers emerged fresh faced and not sweaty at all as if they had just stepped out of a mountain biking commercial. They were led to the front of the queue and given priority boarding in the next two cable cars while we were stuck behind plate glass doors watching them take in the mountain air. This sight proved too much for Oscar who was already feeling very nervous about going on a cable car in the first place. His eyes suddenly dilated and he keeled over in a fainted heap on the floor. After administering lots of iced water (thank god for the cool bag back pack I bought) to his head and neck and giving him a drink and something to eat he thankfully recovered but Debra was in a flap and Olivia thinking she was missing out on the attention began to swoon and had to be helped to the floor where the Italian male attendants came to her rescue with cool damp cloths for her brow. After letting another cable car go we had given the crowd enough to look at and Debra was adamant that we should forgo the ordeal we had been through and leave. Desperate to go on the damn cable car I persuaded Oscar that everything would be ok once we were up the mountain. He didn't look too convinced and the look from Debra would have knocked me out cold if I had given it a second thought. We finally got to the top of the mountain and it was as spectacular as I had imagined it would be. There were even bars up there for me to calm myself down in. The sight of paragliders running down the slope and taking to the sky from the top of the mountain with the lake thousands of feet below has to be one of my top memories of our Holiday to date. Thankfully the journey down was no where near as dramatic, but the sights were just as spectacular!

Yesterday we took a much more sedate journey on the lake by ferry boat to Sirmione and Salo, which is the village we stayed in all those years ago. Walking past our hotel and around the beautiful back streets brought back so many delightful memories of our visit when Debra was pregnant with Olivia and it was quite emotional to leave and watch the village fade in the distance hoping that one day we will return!

WiFi Access At Last

The lake is just as wonderful as I remember her from sixteen years earlier, when Olivia was still inside Debra's belly, being patted by all the friendly Italians saying "Ahh Bambini". Now she is a beautiful young woman turning Italian heads as she walks by. Not that she notices any of that nonsense of course!

Our flight took off on time and lasted a mere one hour forty minutes, which was just about durable for Debra as she has an innate fear of sitting in an aluminium tube doing unnatural things such as flying. The helter-skelter landing at Verona airport didn't do anything to quell those anxieties though and I must admit to having one or two thoughts that she might actually be right about it as we were parallel to the ground hurtling towards us as we turned what seemed like 360 degrees. Once the wheels touched the runway safely all such thoughts went right out of my head forever.... Depending how hair raising our return flight is!

The attendants on our flight and coach journey must have taken their inspiration from reality TV programmes of the day. Firstly there was our ever so gay, ignorant and so far up his own arse flight attendant who had finger nails that any diva would be proud of and wouldn't be out of place on such shows as Big Brother or Airport. I know that our flight was only short but the speed he brought out the trolley's was mind boggling! My hand had only just recovered from its onslaught of squeezing and turning pink as the blood flowed back into its veins when the first trolley arrived touting booze, which was a very welcome sight indeed. Once our drop down tables had been suitably filled with extortionately priced alcoholic beverages doled out by the diva himself it rocketed along the isle dishing out this, that and the other to the bewildered holiday makers.

After a few gulps from the miniature can of lager the diva was there again, trolley in hand, looking down his pointy nose at us for being typical 'Brits On A Plane' types. He asked us if we wanted a complimentary meal to which I replied that we had payed thirty quid to be provided with food on the flight and he smirked as he told me that the only food is what he was dishing out and it was complimentary! It was a good job that my seatbelt was still attached and my tray full of booze as I wanted so much to punch his lights out! The so called meal consisted of some sort of congealed mush on a soggy roll, a KitKat (two fingers) and a dodgy bakewell tart flavoured oat bar, which could well have been used to mop up the Exon Valdise oil spill all those years ago and was probably produced around the same time. Being a captive audience and in need of something to soak up the alcohol I ate everything in front of me including the kids complimentary meals too. The bakewell tart bar lived up to my expectation and swelled up in my stomach soaking everything up.....no need for Diacalm tablets as yet!! The rubbish was collected in a whirlwind of over scented diva and plastic bin liner before the last morsel reached my gullet and the next trolley arrived selling all sorts of airline logo tat and god knows what else as it wasn't there long enough to notice!

Travelling over the Alps at thirty five thousand feet is an experience to behold and keep within your memory for many years to come. The sight of snow covered peaks poking through soft cotton wool like clouds was breathtaking and made me forget what I had just ate.

Once we had thankfully recovered all our luggage and walked out from the air conditioned arrivals hall into the baking oven of an Italian afternoon we found our coach and sat there sweltering waiting for the usual stragglers that were still stood at the carousel urging their bags to emerge from behind the rubber curtain. Everyone desperate for the engine to crank into life and the air conditioning to begin blowing life saving cool air over us. Eventually we were under way and the air was cooled sufficiently for us to be able to appreciate the beauty outside. The attendant was also very camp and obviously takes his inspiration from the tour guide on the Channel 4 Coach Trip programmes everything except the amount of hair on his head was similar. But he kept the crowd entertained while the coach travelled along the lakeside. Thankfully we were second drop off, which is a story for my next blog as I am becoming very dehydrated here by the poolside.

Thankfully wifi access is is perfect in the bars of the hotel. As if I ever doubted it would be so!!

Keep on looking for my blog and happy holidays.

The Adventure Begins

Why do we think that any country outside the boundary of our white cliffs is a waste land, devoid of civilised society and everyday common all garden goods?

I found myself packing over a kilo of bacon this morning in a cool bag, inserted inside a suitcase. What was I thinking when I squashed two packs of weetabix inside another suitcase that was already bursting at the seams? Thankfully I stopped short of packing our last remaining Heinz Baked Beans tins. Only because there was literally no where for them to go!

After applying my common sense about the beans I then had to negotiate the stairs with four large, extremely heavy cases. Where's that weight lifter belt when you need it??

Two minutes before the taxi turns up and Olivia, who had been sprawled out on the settee while the mayhem gathered pace around her, suddenly piped up asking where her white converse trainers were. Debra in a state of what can only be described as mind blowing anxiety told her they had been packed away last night while she had been out roaming the streets. All hell breaks loose once again with olivia insisting on routing through the cases to find the only shoes that will go with the outfit she has chosen to fly in. Very Calmly (not) I instructed Olivia to go away and find something else to wear!

I think the taxi driver has developed a hernia after lugging our cases in his boot.

Things have gone surprisingly well since arriving at the airport, except for the guy behind us in queue to check in letting go of his case, which toppled over, scraping its way to the ground along Debra's calf and ankle .....ouch! She kept her cool and bottled up her outburst until later, when to expect it I can't say but I am sure it will come. I thought it might come when she kept making the metal detector beep and had to stand prostrate in the body scanner but she kept it together well and now she is happily shopping in the departures lounge as I am typing away on my phone, interspersed with a glug or two of the amber nectar!

Keep your eyes peeled for further exploits from the family Mangini as we venture to Lake Garda and Venice.

Happy Holidays!!