Still if you’re going to do something adventurous, it’s best to do it at nature’s extreme.  It sounds a lot better to say you went over a 7 metre waterfall in a raging torrent than a mere trickle.

Besides the company we did it with, River Rats, were all seasoned professionals. At one point, while we were waiting to get wetsuited up, there was a pounding deluge of rain on the hut which had us all worried.  But the guides didn’t bat their eyelids ”Yeah all the rain means the river’s running higher than normal out there, should be good” drawled one. 

Another ran through the saftey routine with a sardonic jauntiness that belied the seriousness of the endeavour.  “Don’t put get your foot stuck on the rocks at the bottom of the river, that would be very bad”, “Don’t wind the safety rope around your neck if we throw it to you”, “Try to swim to the boat before we go over the waterfall.  If you do go over make sure you smile for the camera”.

Naturally hearing the worst case scenarios always makes a nervous group of girls even more nervous.  Once we were in the raft and heading downstream we were fine, and front paddling and back paddling like seasoned professionals.  

At one point I wished the river was higher, the boat smaller and there was no guide to tell me to front paddle and back paddle.  Heck I wished I was the guy shooting out in front in his kayak into the foaming froth.

Sky jump next anyone?

That’s a heck of a lot of money for a couple of holes.  Especially when the results won’t actually predict earthquakes but only “better understand the implications of a natural disaster”. 

The implications of a natural disaster are pretty obvious: disastrous.  I’m not sure how spending $2million is actually going to benefit anyone in this scenario.  Scientists will obtain data which doesn’t actually predict anything, meanwhile the $2million could quite easily go into helping many other areas of Auckland society which sorely need it.

(Or perhaps help the residents of Christchurch still trying to recover from their natural disaster that noone predicted?)

Besides Auckland already has a network of early detection seismometers including six in existing boreholes. So along with all the volcanoes (last count 55), does it really need any more holes?

“A common issue tourists face during their travels is the fact that while having internet connection is a given for them, many hotels, especially the luxury ones, are charging extra. Many agree this is not acceptable.”

I came across this in Italy when I splashed out and stayed at a 4 star hotel in Ravello.  When you’re paying €290 per night for a room it’s a little surprising to be charged €3 for half an hour’s use of the internet, and more than a little frustrating when it doesn’t actually work.

Apparently the thinking behind this on the hotel’s part is that if you’re rich enough to fork out for a room in a 4 or 5 star hotel, you can afford to pay a little extra for the internet.  Which kind of sux really.  If you’re paying that much for a room, internet usage should be included with the free shampoo!

Things probably won’t change though unless people start refusing to pay and being vocal about it.  And although free internet isn’t on the top of everyone’s priority list when it comes to choosing a hotel, it certainly makes 2 or 3 star hotels with unlimited internet usage more attractive in my book when choosing where to stay.

As usual, what I want and what Italy wants me to have, are two different things.

I wandered into the Piazza Duomo thinking I’d go up the back streets.  On the steps of the duomo were a beautiful Italian couple just married.  I couldn’t help but take a photo:

Too gorgeous for words eh?  Continuing on up the back streets in search of my take-away seafood risotto got me nowhere.  I almost caved and got a prawn cocktail and a bruschetta, but no, I needed take-away seafood risotto.  I can be stubborn when I want to be.

I walked along the waterfront and spied some steps going down into a back alley. There was a trattoria sign so it looked promising.  Yes, it opened up into a kind of small piazza with lots of restaurants.  I asked one of them if it did seafood risotto.  It did – ‘fisherman style’.  Take-aways were not an option.

I don’t know why I always assume everything is chopped up into tiny pieces.  I should have been warned by the ‘fisherman style’ description, that it was not going to be elegant eating.  One day I’ll learn.  Forty-five minutes later this arrived.

So much for take-away seafood risotto chopped up in small perfect pieces in a plastic container.

After de-shelling my way through this lot I figured what the heck, I’ll have desert too.  And that was even better; a small, round cake with ricotta and pears. Kind of like a cheesecake but not as sweet. I didn’t take a photo because I ate it too quickly.  Divine.

Then the band started playing.

Nearly two hours after arriving I left.

The moral of the story is, never go looking for a quick meal in Italy.  You’ll find yourself eating things you never thought you’d eat, and having a much better time than you expected to have.

And staying in a better place than you thought as well.  This the foyer of my art-deco type hotel which has each room named for one of the planets.  I’m in ‘Neptune’:

And this is where you have to post what you want for breakfast:

Then it appears the next morning in front of you. Just like magic.

In Palazzo Vecchio in Florence, for instance, I went behind a chair to climb up some steps to look out a window.  All hell immediately broke loose amongst the three attendants.  “Signorina no, no!  It is dangerous!” 

Surely yelling at me, and startling me so I nearly fall down the stairs is more dangerous? 

“You should have a rope across there, or a sign so people know not to go up”, I say to one of them trying to regain my dignity. 
“No madam,” he says looking stern, “There is a chair in front and we are here to say ‘no’, “ as if this is a much better system. 

Some shopkeepers also seem to work on the premise that ‘the customer is always wrong and we are always right’.  Which is odd since the customer, especially in the summer months, is the tourist, and it would be a lot more fruitful for them to give ‘service with a smile’, instead of ‘service with a grimace’.

However, it must be annoying for Italians, especially when tourists intrude on their two hour lunch break. A couple of girls at my hostel learnt the hard way when trying to buy postcards right on afternoon closing time.  

They were ‘hummmpfed’ at several times and then smartly escorted to the door by the gentleman concerned.  I don’t think he even cared they didn’t buy the postcards.  Rules are rules after all.

Further on inside, there are clothing shops and a restaurant.  I sit down at one of the tables but I’m not sure who the waiter is, as there are a lot of youths hanging around looking purposeful but dressed in t-shirts and shorts.  Finally a waiter dressed as a waiter appears and I order pasta but he says the kitchen is closed.  Due to a power cut this morning there is only salad or pizza.   It is unfortunate as the pasta looked good. 

Outside there is a sea breeze which moves the humid air around slightly.  It feels like walking through a sauna.  I’m glad I left the air conditioning going full bore in my room. 

I finally get pasta at a tomato restaurant  ‘Pomodorino’, which has a lot of waiting staff and not many customers.  The owner is very tanned, wearing the typical pink shirt and looks rich, he says in rapid Italian ‘Are you alone?  If so I will be your friend for your stay in Naples, do you understand?’ 

Surprisingly I do, my Italian must be getting better.  He’s harmless enough though and leaves me alone to be tended to by the waiting staff.  I order some pasta dish with swordfish and aubergines and a meloncello.  ‘It is a liquor’, says the waiter.  ‘Yes, I know’, I say expertly, then realise it is probably not the done thing to have liquor with your main course but nevermind.  When it arrives it’s lemoncello and it’s so strong it makes my toes tingle. 

The pasta, which I had low expectations of, is amazing.  When you order fish in the south sometimes you’re not sure if you’re going to get a whole fish on top of a pile of pasta but this was tiny pieces chopped up with roasted aubergines, in tomato sauce with olive oil.  Simon Gault would approve.

Afterwards I head back to my hotel replete, and slightly woozy from the lemoncello.   It’s like stepping into a refrigerator when I get to my room, perhaps I went a little overboard.  I want to feel like I am in Naples after all, not Antarctica.

No matter what your ailment, the Farmacia always has something to soothe, heal or beautify it.

This also goes for ailments that are slightly obscure.

I remember one time I was in Florence and I needed something for a rather embarrassing problem (which I won’t go into details about), and which forced me to go to a pharmacy.  Blushing furiously I stammered out my request starting with ‘Ho una problema’, so the woman knew it was serious (well I thought it was).

Anyway, she immediately produced the required item, then proceeded to matter of factly state the instructions whilst also conveying the right amount of professional sympathy. And it was all done without so much as snigger.

It has since made me believe a visit to a pharmacy in Italy is more beneficial and more comforting than a visit to a church.

Who needs spiritual benediction anway? Today when I was in Venice and I was stung by a bee, did God take away the pain? No. But there was a nearby pharmacy selling ‘Dopopuntura Gel Forte’.  I rest my case.

It’s like going from the nineteen hundreds to the noughties in one foul swoop.

The purchase of the netbook took place last week and I have to admit I didn’t take much notice of the ‘specs’. It’s small, I can carry it in my handbag and it’s cute. What else did I need to look for? Er..apparently RAM, Processing speed, battery life, screen width, whether my fingers fit the keypads etc. etc.

I wish I had taken more notice when a friend asked me about it’s storage space. I said it had 1GB and she nearly died laughing. “It’s small and perfectly formed,” I countered. “Yes but 1GB? Oh dear!”

This distressed me somewhat but on checking I discovered it had 250GB of storage space. Whew!

Getting my head around going wireless was another steep learning curve. But after a few attempts at getting into the free Wi-Fi at the local library, voila here I am! In the noughties as opposed to the nineteen hundreds, and feeling quite proud of myself. I’ve even looked up mobile sticks at Vodafone Italy so I can roam freely across the country blogging as I go in September. Well that’s the plan. Getting wireless in a different country could be a whole new blog post.

Meanwhile I just need to figure out how to reconfigure my keyboard so the @ symbol isn’t where the ” symbol is. Hmmmmmm…..help?

Knitting skills are essential for the backpacker

A recent trip to Raglan (2 hours south of Auckland) found me sitting round a table one afternoon with a group of French, Belgian, German and Canadian backpackers.   The main topic of discussion, while  drinking some unnamed NZ beer, was travel and waxing lyrical about our philosophies of backpacker life.

Well, they were waxing lyrical.  My sister, her boyfriend and I were just in Raglan over the New Years break.  We had to be back to work on the Wednesday. 

Meanwhile, their stories flowed along with the beer.  We listened and imagined what it would be like to spend six months or longer backpacking round the world without a care except for, what the hell am I going to do when I get to Fiji?

This was the dilemma of one German girl who had been backpacking for so long that the thought of travelling to Fiji and sitting on another beach was quite horrific.  To while away the long hours of downtime and brain inaction (an occupational hazard while backpacking) she had started to knit hats for tourists. She was looking forward to starting her WOOFing job, cleaning the toilets.

A Slovakian girl who was backpacking for two years (source of funding unknown) was incredibly confident and opinionated on everything from internet reception, to how difficult it was to stay fashionable when you’re on a tight budget.  She was also incredibly trusting; she left her lap-top and cellphone in the midst of us strangers and was gone for over an hour.

Being with this random group of travellers on a hot summer afternoon, which turned into early evening and then rather latish at night, reminded me that another facet of life does exist.

It’s easy to forget when you’re in full time employment that there’s actually people out there travelling around and having all sorts of wonderful experiences.  But, being someone who craves routine, it does make me wonder how I would cope with the lack of structure when travelling for such a long time.

One day perhaps I’ll find out.  At least I know I can always fall back on my knitting skills if needs be.

This could be you!

It seems everyone is blogging these days, especially in the travel industry. Sipping fruit cocktails on a beach in Bali, whilst uploading posts to your blog via your laptop is now a ‘real job’. 

But starting a travel blog isn’t as easy as it looks, as I found out when setting up this blog as a part of a Web Writing Course through the New Zealand Writers College.  

Starting a travel blog

WordPress makes setting up a blog very easy but, if you don’t feel ready, a good way to start blogging is to write guest posts for other blogs.  Check out these posts I did for Travel Tips Plus and  travel blog Velvet Escape. 

Writing travel tips, such as the one I did for popular travel site Travel Dudes, can also boost your own blog ratings, as they Facebook and Twitter the post to their many followers .  

Maintaining a travel blog 

Consistency is key and the biggest hurdle I’ve found blogging is finding the time alongside a full time job.  It’s difficult to come up with regular posts especially when you don’t travel for a living.  But sometimes posts can come out of just being aware of your surroundings, like my post A Quaking Good Time in Christchurch.

Image Source: Criminal Justice

What makes a good travel blog?

There are a huge array of travel blogs on the net but there’s a distinct difference between a travel writer who blogs, and a blogger who travels. 

Some may disagree but I think being a good writer is essential to being a successful travel blogger. You also have to love  travelling, otherwise your travel blog can come unstuck quite easily. 

One of my favourite travel blogs is The Everywhereist, an ex-copywriter who freely admits she follows her husband around while he travels for his job.  Her blog describes their experiences along the way.  This could get boring but she’s such a good writer, and the posts are so entertaining that you just want to keep reading. 

After all the whole point of travel blogging is to entertain and inform.  Why would anyone bother to read about your experiences, and you to write them, if they weren’t entertaining and informative?

I’m learning that starting a travel blog is the easy part.  To be a successful travel blogger takes a lot of hard work and perseverance.