Can't Touch This

I think that one of the most difficult things about this Pandemic is going to be the physical distance that it imposes between between us all.

Since losing M I have become a much more tactile person. I was always a little more of the not "stand-offish" exactly, but "I only saw you yesterday, why are you hugging me?" type. Don't get me wrong, with my oldest/closest friends I have always greeted them like clamp the mighty limpet. But casual social cuddling wasn't really my jam. But at a time when so many people were saying to me "I don't know what to say" the comfort of being embraced, the reassuring hand on my shoulder, someone just sitting quietly holding my hand. Those were the things that made it all more bearable somehow.
And since then I have joined the ranks of the huggers. If someone is upset, I'm now usually the first one to leap over the table and crush them to my, less than ample, bosom.

I feel so deeply for anyone who is grieving right now, because a loving elbow bump is not really the same.

As humans we need touch. We thrive on it; hugs are one of the nicest things about humanity. We hug one another to comfort or to celebrate, to express empathy and to share joy. The best feeling in the world is when another human wraps their arms around you and crushes you to their chest.


Right now, and for the foreseeable future, we are in a hug-less zone. A contact free freefall where the one thing that we all crave to make this situation a little less surreal, a good solid hug from another human being, is not really an option.
We say so much to one another through the medium of touch. When we don't have the words, or the words just feel inadequate, a hug sends the strongest message that we are not alone

So instead the very things that have been keeping us socially distanced from another are going to become the things that keep us socially connected (and sane).
In the absence of meetups and Friday drinks we are forming chat groups. Instead of texting we are calling one another again. I've had more phone conversations with friends and family in the past two weeks than I have had in some time. We are all so busy that dashing off a text has become the norm. We have all seen the memes and I have often been guilty of replying to an attempted call with a text.
"Sorry I can't talk right now", which most people know is social code for "I'm watching the last episode of Fleabag".


I am picking up more often now, after all, that is why God created the "pause" button right?

And for elderly people, who depend upon their social activities to get them out of the house and into society, this is potentially devastating. I am deeply concerned that people are literally going to die from loneliness.

Because while our generation are used to using technology to keep in touch on a regular basis a lot of older people are not.

So, if you haven't already, teach your older family members to use WhatsApp or Messenger and form a family chat group.
And if they are already down with technology advise them to stay away from every click-bait "article" on Social Media.
Encourage them to check in with you before they start to panic about something that some clueless dickhead has re-posted on FB from "Stuff". Which is, incidentally the most infuriating source of "fake news" and irresponsible "journalism" in NZ.

And for everyone talking about cancelled gigs, postponed holidays and idiots hogging all the supermarket supplies. I feel you, I get it, The National just moved their April gig to December and I am pretty darn sad about it.

But, I am not working in one of those supermarkets, I am not a front line health care worker, I am not a victim of domestic abuse looking at the terrifying possibility that I may end up trapped in quarantine with my abuser.

I like John Oliver's take on it (anyone else see the most recent "Last Week Tonight" and think "yep, sh!t is getting real?).
We all set our phone timers for 30 seconds and give ourselves that long to complain about the way that this Virus has negatively impacted our lives. Be it a postponed trip, a cancelled party, empty pubs on St Patrick's Day, the NBA cancelling the season, anything you like, go to town...for 30 seconds.

And then start thinking about what we can do to preserve our humanity while we wait for all of this to complete the cycle.

Because it will, maybe not sooner and almost certainly later, this too shall pass. And what we will be left with are the consequences of however we treat one another right now, as individuals.

And in the meantime, loving elbow bumps all round. People are amazing (and sometimes awful) but mostly amazing.
There will be hugging again!! And when there is, I am planning to be at the front of the queue.

Five Go Mad In Paradise - Travel Tips for Samoa

Beginning with a Public Service Announcement: 
The sun is a hot and burning thing (surprise!), wear factor 50 sunscreen at all times. Ideally, wear a rash vest whenever swimming/snorkeling. Kiwis can become a tad complacent about sun exposure in other countries. "Oh, you guys actually have an Ozone layer so I can forget to re-apply my Factor 30 for five hours when swimming". Most of us got some degree of sunburn on the first day and, not being one to do anything by halves, I got sun-stroke and had to skip the Giant Clam snorkeling expedition the next day. I was very disappointed, not least of all because of all of the quality innuendo that I missed out on!

Speaking of weather, it was the start of the rainy season when we arrived in early November. It rained once on our first day, it was monsoonal but brief. Other than that any rain was at night and the temperature averaged around 31 degrees.

Make the most of your duty-free allowance: Wine is expensive and usually not very nice. It's difficult to store it at the optimum temperature in the tropical heat. It goes off quickly, especially once it has been opened, so do not order it by the glass unless warm kerosene is your tipple of choice. Apparently, we drank all of the decent Chardonnay that they had on-site in the first five days and the last bottle of Substitute Sav that we ordered was corked, or more accurately in these screw cap times ...screwed.

Take local cash: ATMs are like Unicorns over there and a lot of places do not have EFTPOS. You will need it for transfers, taxis, food, and drinks and pretty much everything outside of the resort. Most local attractions like swimming holes etc charge a small entry fee and you will need cash for those. If you do forget to go to the bank before leaving the exchange rate at the local airport is surprisingly good.

In terms of packing your own tasty snacks, you are allowed to take food in so long as it is sealed. We took a LOT of cheese and crackers. Possibly too much cheese as we were frantically inhaling it two hours before our flight was due to leave. Poor Ruth turned into a back street dairy pusher in an attempt to divest herself of the last of it. Pays to bear in mind that you can't take it back into NZ once it is opened.  

Tours: The cost of booking tours through the "Tour Desk" is eye-watering. Even the guy actually working on the tour desk thought it was a better option for us to get a taxi for our day trip.  

And speaking of taxis, be sure to lock in any taxi quotes at the reception desk. Our transfer from RTP to the Sheraton went up ST$20 overnight from the rate we had been quoted the day before.

• Service: Island time is a thing, service can be a bit haphazard, just go with it. One day I waited an hour for a tuna sandwich (they were probably sending out for extra tomatoes*) but hey, it's not as if I had anywhere else that I needed to be. I have since read a few Trip Advisor reviews around the speed of food delivery that seem somewhat mean-spirited. It's not that anyone is deliberately dawdling, it's just that time moves at a different pace there. Embrace it, go for another swim while you are waiting, they haven't forgotten about you. Actually, sometimes they have forgotten about you and that is when all of that cheese comes in pretty handy!

Our cheese supply for one week

It does pay to be very clear when ordering your food and beverages. Especially if you have any major food allergies. *On four occasions my increasingly heartfelt request for "no tomato" in my tuna sandwich was reinterpreted as "kindly take ALL of the tomatoes that you have lying around in the kitchen and place them in my sandwich. "Not a major for me, I'm not allergic to tomato, I just hate it in sandwiches, but if you have any serious nut allergies or similar I would advise being extra vigilant.  And I have almost forgiven Clare for launching into a rousing chorus of "Let it Go" when the third tomato infiltrated food item was placed in front of me. And yes, I do hear you saying that the definition of insanity is continuing to order the tuna sandwich expecting a different result. I think it had turned into something of a running joke by the fourth attempt.

Natural Hazards: If you are nervous about Tsunami risk be aware that the resort is an absolute beachfront experience. We felt one tiny earthquake while we were there. It was enough to cause us to cast a wary eye out to sea and actually read the Tsunami evacuation instructions in the room. That done we went back to eating our cheese because if you worried too much about these things you wouldn't go anywhere. Maybe just don't watch "The Impossible" before you go!

• Take reef shoes, or buy some in Apia for the princely sum of ST$10 (approx NZ$6). There are a lot of rocks in the water. And be careful around the coral, obviously for ecological reasons but also because of coral cuts. They can become infected very quickly in a tropical climate.

Also Mosquitos, Samoan mozzies are vicious and apparently had not eaten for a month when we arrived. They latched onto us like millennials on an almond latte.  Take mozzie repellant. Based upon our experience the local specimens have developed something of a taste for Aeroguard and none of the "natural" options gave them a second's pause. Much as I hate the chemical warfare approach, the only things that seemed to work were Deet and Bushmans. Both of which are the rough equivalent of hosing down your body with liquid Napalm.

Ideally, take one of those plug-ins (the plugs are the same as NZ over there). We spent the week comparing the size of our mozzie bites and passing around the antihistamines and anti-itch cream like party pills. On the bright side, there are no malarial or dengue-fever carrying mozzies there so you may be itchy but you won't be in mortal peril.  However, Zika Virus has been a thing over there and although there are no current outbreaks it really does pay to avoid being bitten if you can.

• Tipping: As in most of the Islands, tipping is appreciated but not expected. We decided not to tip individual staff as we went along. Instead, we made a team donation to the local school when we checked out.

Cost-wise overall we worked out that our stay cost us approx NZ$100 a day on top of our pre-paid accommodation.  This included food, drinks, and excursions which makes the resort incredibly good value. We had rather a lot of cocktails and none of us are bird-like eaters so we were pretty happy with our final bill.

Wifi is expensive and patchy. If you have Vodafone's $7 a day roaming package you will be fine but if you are going to be relying on the local Wifi I would suggest that you do not go on holiday with any deadlines hanging over your head. 

Speaking of heads, if you want to do the flowers in your hair thing it's good to know that those beautiful hibiscus flowers close up at night leaving you looking as though you have purposely tucked a piece of decaying vegetation behind your ear.  Go with the Frangipani at dinner time. And always check any potential adornments for ants BEFORE attaching to your person.

And finally...

As It Turns Out, You Can Go Home Again

So today is Marty's Birthday. 

I don't say "would have been" because it it still is. It is a still a day to celebrate his life, his spirit and his quintessential Marty-ness.
A month back in the UK with the people that I love has made me braver. It's funny how we draw so much strength from the people who have our backs, and our fronts, and our hearts. 

It has been a month of confronting the past at every turn and drawing strength from that to face the future. 

And for every moment when I been almost physically punched in the chest with grief and longing for him to "just come back dammit" there has been a moment of pure joy and and a growing conviction that I will be OK.

That although things will never be the same that I can get through this, that I am getting through it, and that there are still a lot of things left to be grateful for.

It was not the trip I was expecting. I anticipated more tears, and a lot less laughter.  More painful moments and less beautiful, hilarious ones.

There were many speed wobbles. 

Meeting my one year old niece for the first time and looking at her lovely little face and thinking "M will never get to meet you now and he would have loved you so much" 

He would have picked her up and casually carried her around on one arm as though it was the most natural thing in the world.  He was always the baby whisperer. 

Babies, as a rule, cry when someone hands them to me, they hang on like limpets knowing that they are in the hands of a hopeless amateur. clinging to whatever they can grasp about my person...so many broken necklaces.

M would also have been been down on the floor for hours giving her walking lessons. 

Many times we would have people to stay or go and stay with friends and they would call a couple of days later to tell us that the baby had started walking after a few coaching sessions with Uncle Marty.

I'm sorry you missed out on that Saoirse, I'm sorry that you and your brother will miss out on him, I'll do my best to make it up to you both, we all will.

And then there was walking along South Bank in London, looking at the lights on Tower Bridge and thinking "last time I was here you were right next to me" and yet I could still hear him in my head saying "I still am sweetie"

And going to the National Theatre alone because it was always one of our places. 

There is a story behind that one. My Dad was a big theatre guy, he took me to RSC when I was seven to see "Much Ado About Nothing"

I don't imagine that I understood much of the plot at that age but I remember him returning me to Mum and proudly saying that I had "laughed in all the right places".

When I went back to the UK on my OE Dad started taking me to the National Theatre and when he died Marty and I agreed to try and see something there whenever were in London.

Our first outing was to see "An Inspector Calls".  Not having been to the National before Marty was blissfully unaware that the average length of a play there is approx two and a half to three hours.

So we get to intermission, I was in a seat closer to the aisle than M and employed our usual theatre strategy  which was for whoever is in front to head straight to the bar before it becomes a complete scrum. 

Once I had secured our drinks I began the "Marty Hunt" this was a game that featured prominently in our marriage due to Martin possessing disappearing skills that would have made David Copperfield envious.

After five minutes of futile searching I resorted to phoning him. "where are you?" "I'm outside waiting for you, I've got your coat from the coat check" 

"Why have you got my coat now?"

"Because we are leaving?" This last was delivered in a what I can only describe as an "I love you but sometimes you are not very bright" tone.

I was very confused by this point  "are you not enjoying it, I think it's really good"

"What?, yes of course I enjoyed it, it was great"

Ahhhhh

"You do know it isn't finished yet don't you?"

"Of course it is finished, we've been in there an hour and a half, how much more can there be?"

"About another hour or so"

"F*uck"..(long pause)... well I did think the ending was a bit sh!t"

"What, somewhat "inconclusive"?"

"Yeah....I'll just come back in then shall I?"

We laughed about that for years. And sitting in the theatre, without him beside me, it still made me smile...through the tears.

It rather sums up our story really, It was a wonderful play but the ending was a bit sh!t and somewhat inconclusive.

So Happy Birthday my love. We will have a whiskey or two for you tonight, I will have people that we both love around me and we will swap stories and remember you and all of the ways that you made us laugh.

I'm sure that there will be some tears but so long as we can smile through them I know that you will be happy.

Knowledge Is Power

Part Two - The Practical Stuff

This whole experience has been a giant learning curve for me. I have discovered that in many ways I have been the modern equivalent of Betty Draper, the quintessential '60's housewife from Madmen.
I may be all "girl power" on the outside but turns out I have the financial skills of a goldfish on crack.

All of the boring things like paying the bills and managing the day today financial grind of running a house have somewhat wafted past me.

Don't get me wrong, I have always contributed financially, I just never really thought too much about what happened to the money after I deposited it in the joint account. I didn't need to, Martin was good at that stuff. In any partnership you assume your roles, it is just the way that it is.
I am and always have been pretty random when it comes to money matters. Maybe it's the creative in me, or maybe it's the fact that I dropped maths in fifth form and enrolled in drama instead. Which pretty much tells you everything you need to know about me vs fiscal responsibility.

But in the past seven weeks I have had to step up because if I didn't then I would currently be sitting in a freezing house wondering why nothing is coming out of the taps.

And because everything happened a lot faster than we had anticipated I have had to learn on the job. And employ detective skills that Hercule Poirot would be proud of in order to find out some pretty basic information. Not the least of which being "where exactly is our money invested because I remember signing some stuff but I have no idea where it is filed".
And yes, I know, ridiculous right? But after 21 years with someone you don't always pay full attention when they are mansplaining things to you after a couple of glasses of red wine (sorry M, I know I nodded sagely at the time but a lot of things flew right over my head)

So here a few pointers in case, heaven forbid, you ever find yourself in a similar situation.

Have a spreadsheet, list everyone that you pay, what dates those payments are made, what accounts they are coming out of and where possible have direct debits set up. And when you set them up make sure that they coming out of an account that will not be frozen whilst the bank wait for probate to come through. A process that can take months, so be prepared for that as well.

And I say these things from painful experience.
Two weeks after Martin died I received a letter from the bank listing fifteen Direct Debits and Credits that had been arbitrarily cancelled when they froze his personal accounts.
Which meant fifteen calls to various institutions and service providers saying the same exhausting, soul destroying things over and over again.
Which is the stuff that leads to afternoon whiskey drinking...

Also do not be in a hurry to deactivate their mobile or decommission their email. You will need to re-set a lot of passwords, new passwords are either sent by email or text message. You will need to be able to access these things. They can also give you information about the whereabouts of funds, unpaid bills and service providers that your partner may have just dealt with directly

And now for the really hard stuff

Whatever your situation, if you share your life with another human being then you need to discuss the following things. Ideally over a nice bottle of wine,somewhere beautiful where death feels like an abstract concept.
This is the part that we got right and I am beyond grateful that we did.

• Do you both have Wills? Do you both know what is in them?  Do you know where are they physically located? Ideally you should have copies on file with your solicitor. So many friends and family have told me lately that they do not have a Will. I am very passionate about this one, If you have children it is a non-negotiable, and if you don't, it's still pretty much a non-negotiable.

So just do it and once it is done you don't really need to think about it again. It does not have to be expensive, you can do it yourself off the internet (a two second Google yielded this https://newzealandwillkit.co.nz/) Or Citizens Advice will help you. I'll help you, that is how important I think it is.

• If the very worst happens, do you want medical personal to try and revive you, and yeah that one is really tough but in some circumstance your partner will be asked what your wishes are and that moment,when you are upside down and back to front and your world is falling apart is not the moment to be second guessing yourself because you don't know the answer

• Organ donation - yes or no? Obviously this information is on your driving license but it's much better to have a heads up rather than finding out at the worst possible time that your partner has promised their body for medical experiments.

• Burial vs cremation?

• Religious or non-religious ceremony? If either of you are religious then you probably have a church already. If going for a secular ceremony is there a particular venue that you have a connection to? 

• What music would you like to have played? Make your playlists together. And update them whenever the mood takes you. I know it sounds morbid and confronting but actually that part can be rather fun. You will be surprised at the passionate musical debates that can ensue. As in "seriously, Toto???" And if your partner fancies going out to the strains of "Africa" may I humbly suggest that you consider rethinking your relationship, same goes for anything by James Blunt. That may even be grounds for a quickie divorce.

• Hymns or no hymns? Personally speaking any kind of forced communal singing gives me flashbacks to a room smelling of cabbage filled with kids slowly sucking the life out of "Jerusalem" and "All things Bright and Beautiful" (St Denys school hall circa 1972). I swear that God must have had his ear plugs in every morning at 8.00am UK Standard time. But hey, some people really love a good hymn or two, just like Karaoke only (relatively) sober.

These are always going to be confronting and difficult conversations, to face the mortality of someone that you love head on takes emotional courage but you only need to do it once and if you can do it you are giving each other a priceless gift.
To able to answer those questions without hesitation, when they are being asked by people that you do not know, because they HAVE to know, is empowering.
You cannot control what is happening or has happened to your person, or what is happening to you, but being able to say "I know that this is what they would want" takes away a lot of self doubt and pain. It also shuts down any dissent immediately, believe me, noone is going to argue with that sentence.
If they do then they are just being an arse and you have my permission to tell them so...kindly and lovingly of course.

And now for something completely different,,,

Part One - The Emotional Stuff:




Knowing that something is going to happen is not the same as having it actually happen. The fact that you may have seen the train heading towards you in no way diminishes the extent of the damage that it causes on impact.
When you live with someone who has been diagnosed in the later stages of a terminal illness you tell yourselves a lot of things.
That you will be exceptions, that you will beat this awful thing together, that you will fight it with every weapon at your disposal, that sheer tenacity and will to live will win out in the end.
And you need to tell yourselves that because that it what drives you to keep fighting even when things look hopeless.
And sometimes, for a lucky few, those things turn out to be true.

But the bottom line is that if the diagnosis comes at stage four, there is no stage five.
This is never going to be a fair fight, the dice are loaded and the bad guys are likely to win in the end. Which doesn't mean that you have to make it easy for them and it doesn't mean that you give in to despair and take to your bed like a heroine in a romantic novel from the 1800's

What does mean is that you fight back by making every day count. You look the truth in the face, as unflinchingly as you can and you look to your person and you say "you are here NOW, we have NOW...let's make it count"
And that means different things to different people. You don't have to have a "bucket list" - we always hated that expression. Noone has to jump out of a perfectly good aeroplane or go swimming with large toothy fish. Unless of course they really want to do that in which case you need quash your own fears and support them. You do not have to do it with them though. Especially not if they want to combine the two and jump out of an aircraft into shark infested waters...that is just crazy and you should probably try and talk them out of that idea.
The best way to make every day count is by continuing to make plans, by saying yes instead of no, by being their co-driver instead of their handbrake.

Earlier this year Marty wanted to to go to the Argentina for the World Cup qualifying round.
It was a last minute opportunity to go with his brother and he was given 24 hours notice.
Instead of saying "have you gone mad?" I said "do you need me to help you pack?"
He had the most amazing time, yes he was tired and in pain for some of the trip but he wouldn't have given it up for anything and his brother will never forget that time that they spent together.

I guess what I am trying to say is once you know that the storm is coming, even if you batten down the hatches and secure the anchor, it is going to come anyway.  So you may as well lash yourself to the mast and face it head on, because these really are the days that you are going to remember when the storm has passed. You should make them as extraordinary and life affirming as you can.

And if you hate your job and you have the means to do it, now is the time to quit. Work will still be there when you come out the other side but wouldn't you rather spend the time banking memories?
It was best decision that I made in the last three months of Martin's life. I only wish that I had the courage and foresight to do it sooner.

If you have money put aside for a rainy day then I would ask trust me on this one, it is never going to rain any harder on you than it is right now.

Do all of the things, say all of the things, because these are the memories that will sustain you later on, when  you are feeling more alone than Tom Hanks before he found Wilson the basketball on that deserted island.

And in the aftermath...

Embrace new things and new people. Your energy will be different now, you will attract different kinds of people. You will attract more empaths. People who have been where you are will be drawn to you. It's not a "misery loves company" thing, it's more of a "recognition" thing. And it's a good thing, embrace it.

It is OK to talk about your loss, but is also OK not to.
The most important thing to remember is to be kind, Other people are also grieving for your person.
The emotional Tsunami that wiped you out also crushed a part of them.
You are all in the same leaky boat, it's just that their boat will somehow keep sailing forwards with a big hole in it and yours has just washed up on the rocks.
People will want to talk to you about the person that you have all lost, it is important for all of you that you have those conversations.
But it is hard, and you shouldn't underestimate that. And you need to be aware that at in the early stages your main job, your primary responsibility, is to take care of yourself.

I had a moment, sitting at lunch with a friend when the realization hit me that I was becoming exhausted saying the same things over and over. And at that moment I knew that I needed to get away by myself for a bit.
Because talking to other people about what you have lost helps with processing it to a point. But some things you really do have to do alone.

Do not allow yourself to become a vessel for everyone else's pain, you have your own pain and it is more than enough to deal with. No one expects you to fix them, they are on their own path and coming to terms with the loss of their friend or family member in their own way. All you can do is be kind to one another.

Which is important to remember because people will say some weird sh!t to you!

Not because they are insensitive or cruel, just because it is the way that it is. Nobody knows what to say but as humans we fear a void. And so we fill it with whatever we can. And sometimes what we fill it with is kind of odd, or inappropriate or premature (exhibit A, "you are still relatively young, you will meet someone else")
They are not trying to hurt you, or seem indelicate, they are trying to comfort you and be there for you and sometimes they will get it wrong. Give everyone a leave pass for a while, same leaky boat remember.

People will tell you how strong you are being. This does not obligate you to maintain a facade of strength. It does not mean that they will think less of you if you if you fall apart in front of them.
As someone that I love very much said to me "it is OK to lose your shit anytime you need to"
Your people will be always be your people, you just have to trust them enough to let them really see you.

If you have been on this ride for a while then chances are that 80% of your grieving may already be done by the time you get to ground zero. But that last 20%...that is  the part that you may never get over.  And that is OK.

But you cannot allow it to consume you either.
It is OK to go out and have a brilliant night with people who love you and forget about it all for a while.
You are a person not a shrine.
You still have a life to live and the person that you have lost would not have had it any other way. They would be happy to see you laughing, they would wrap their arms around you and tell you that it is alright to be happy again, that that is all that they really want for you now.
The love doesn't go away. You will still feel them around you, often when you least expect to. They are out there in the ether lighting your way forward.
They are that voice in your head when you are feeling overwhelmed saying "you've got this".
Some days you will be braver than you ever thought possible. You will have conversations on the phone with faceless strangers who are "sorry for your loss" but will still tangle you up in a webs of bureaucracy. Who will follow their well intentioned condolences with a polite request for a copy of a death certificate.
And every time that happens you will think that it will break you, but it won't. You will send them what they need, brace yourself, and make another call, and another, until the words become almost devoid of meaning and every call becomes just another task that you have to complete.

And some days you will listen to to your person's voicemail message over and over whilst you sit on the couch in their dressing gown in the middle of the afternoon and sob into a glass of their very expensive whisky. Knowing that they would have been be furious with you for adulterating it with ice and water because you have never really been  a whisky drinker...until now.

You may be having a day when you cross multiple tasks off of the seemingly endless list that you have to get through to slowly and painfully erase the person that you loved from the public record, or a day when getting out of bed and having a shower feels like a major accomplishment... and yet you do it anyway.
It is important to appreciate that either way you are still here, still breathing, still feeling, still moving forward.
And that they would be so very proud of you for that.

This could be the end of everything or the beginning of another chapter. Try not to reach back for the life that you had before. It is still there but it will never be the same as it was. Instead try to look forward with an open heart. And say all the things, do all things, do it for the person that you lost and do it for yourself.

Just probably not the skydiving into sharks thing...

That's Amore (Italia Part 2)

Postcards from Napoli:

At the train station taxi wranglers shouting and gesticulating in rapid Italian - apparently it takes five guys to tell taxis where to pull up - all giving wildly conflicting instructions to those queuing for cabs and the drivers who are trying to pick them up.
They make liberal use of the universal language of the eye roll and rude hand gesture,
"Why would you stop there? Why would you do that??? 
You are interfering with our finely tuned machine, you are breaking the flow, you are an idiot of unparalleled and hitherto unheard of proportions"

Yet somehow it all works and people and taxis are united with phenomenal speed.


In a tiny Pizzeria a young American couple are at the table next door.  The guy is covetously eyeing a bright red Vespa which is parked outside.
The restaurant is cash only (common in the smaller places, they don't want to pay those nasty card fees) and the Americans are caught short.
No problem says the waiter, I take you to cash machine.  He jumps onto the Vespa and signals the temporarily financially embarrassed one to jump on the back.
When they come back the guy is beaming from ear to ear. 
His girlfriend takes photos of him on the back of the bike, much to the amusement of the waiter. 
They will remember the encounter for a long time, for Vespa-dude it was simply the logical thing to do.
When they leave the owner discovers that they have left half a carafe of red wine on the table.  He tuts, rolls his eyes and unceremoniously deposits it on our table.
"Wow thanks" 
"But of course, why would we waste it".


There are dogs everywhere, little dogs, big dogs, colossal dogs.  How do they fit them into those tiny inner city apartments?  Do the larger dogs fold down at night like Ikea sofa beds?


The coffee in Italy is amazing but getting my order right proves challenging.

I try out various permeations.  A latte is too milky and if you order one after 10am the baristas think you are bonkers.  It's like ordering a milkshake before lunch to them.
I move on to Americanos but they make them with cold milk and they are not hot enough. I like my coffee to stop just short of removing a layer of skin from the roof of my mouth.

So I switch to Espresso but it leaves me spinning around like Zebedee from the Magic Roundabout...on speed

On day three I find my drink, an Americano with hot milk...hooray!  I learn to order it in Italian, successfully negotiating World Peace could not have made me any happier.

I fall in love with the phrase "Grazie Millie" which literally translated means "a thousand graces".  It's a catch-all phrase for expressing gratitude and the Italians say it all the time.  It doesn't matter if you return your empty wine glass to the bar or rescue their child from a burning building.  They are grateful....a thousand times.

It is like being verbally kissed by butterflies wherever you go.

On a walking tour of Naples with Barbara, a local guide with a encyclopedic knowledge of the city.

"Look up, she advises, in Naples always look up, that is where the most beauty lies"

She pauses... "but perhaps also look down, and left and right, all at the same time, because everyone else is looking up and then...you crash"

She is right, amazing frescos and most beautiful statuary are located high above the streets.  I walk along with my head in the clouds while Barbara guides me to avert collisions like an extremely chic Italian sheep dog.

Presepi, nativity scenes, are everywhere in Napoli - there is even a street dedicated to them. They are an eclectic mix of the traditional and the kitsch.  Elvis and famous soccer players rub shoulders with the holy family.  
"I had no idea that Maradona was present at the Nativity"  I tease the stall holder. 
"But of course" he responds, "Maradona is a God".  
His response is unsurprising, they worship Maradona in Naples, it could be that they are confusing him with The Madonna, but I don't think so.
I am also rapidly learning that "but of course" is the Neapolitan equivalent of " well duh!"

Another scene has Trump, Nixon and George Bush adoring the Magi.  "Oh look  I quip, it's the Three Wise Guys".

Barbara shakes her head and looks pained "ahh Trump, in Italia we have an expression for people like him"

'La madre dei cretini é sempre incinta" 

"The mother of the idiots is always pregnant"

I instantly write it down so I don't forget it


"Well at least you guys don't have to apologise for Berlusconi anymore" I say comfortingly.

She laughs "Oh we will never stop apologising for Berlusconi!"   

Somehow having the Mediterranean sun on your shoulders makes even getting lost feel like an adventure.  Naples is full of random acts of directional helpfulness.  Stop moving for a few minutes and someone will come up to you and ask if you need help finding somewhere.  And if they are not sure where it is they will flag down another person and ask them for you.  And then disagree with that person about the fastest way to get to the place that they hadn't heard of until two minutes ago.

The upshot being that you often end up more confused than you were to begin with but it doesn't matter because five minutes later someone else will ask you if you are lost and the adventure begins all over again.

Scenes from an Italian Restaurant (Italia Part 1)

The love affair begins on the plane.  Waking from a fitful nap in that fugue state that is peculiar to long haul travel, it occurs to me that we are an hour from landing in Rome.  Why has no one handed me that vital piece of paper upon which I need to declare my intentions towards Italia.
Personally I have always thought that Arrival Cards are something of an exercise in futility.  It's not as if anyone is going to decide to save immigration time by writing "Drug Mule" in the "Occupation" field.  "Why thank you for your honesty Sir, now if you wouldn't mind going back the way you came in".
Likewise people smuggling in other illegal items do not actually write down the fact that they have a hotel fruit basket, a medium sized ferret and 2000 Rothmans concealed in their faux Louis Vuitton luggage.
Anyway I digress... 

"I may have dozed through the documentation distribution part" I think and flag down a passing crew member.

"Excuse me, I appear to be missing an Arrival Card"

"It's OK, you don't need one for Italy"

Huh'???? 

The good vibes continue when I hit immigration and the officer smiles warmly as he takes my passport.

"Benvenuto in italia signora". 
Good grief - anyone would think that they actually want people to visit their country. 

One very fast train later we are in Napoli. 

There is a famous expression:  "Vedi Napoli e poi muori", which translates as "See Naples and die", the idea being that once one has seen Naples there is nothing else worth seeing, comparatively speaking.  And whoever said it had a point because it is utterly lovely.

And there is a Volcano in the back yard of the hotel.

We wander into the centre of town and find a restaurant on the plaza, in other city this would be a tourist trap with mediocre food and a 20% surcharge.  In Naples it is full of regulars and each new arrival is greeted by the owner like long lost family. 

The Italians don’t do gratuitous drinking.  If you order an adult beverage it arrives accompanied by complimentary snacks.  It is responsible hosting at finest and something we need to get better at in NZ.

When the mains arrive they are delicious, and elephantine, I manage less than half of my pasta.  The owner, who seems to be everywhere at once comes to take the plates.  His brow furrows in consternation “you have finished?”.  I feel guilty “it is molto bene”  I assure him “just…a lot”.

“Eh, not so much” he says, “where are you from?”. 

“New Zealand”

“How long in Napoli?”

“Arrived this morning”

“Ah…sei stanco!!” he announces triumphantly.

Satisfied that he has identified the source of my disappointing appetite he takes the plates away.  I imagine him consoling the chef “It’s OK, she loved it, she was just very tired”

The European Champions League Soccer final is on and there is a TV outside the restaurant.  A crowd has been steadily gathering while we eat.  There isn’t enough room for everyone so the locals crowd around the perimeter to watch the game and the owner is happy for them to be there.

They are happy and friendly and vocal, a lot of good natured jostling for position ensues. 

I ask for the bathroom, the waiter starts to explain in Italian, it’s clearly not easy to find.  Seeing my perplexed expression he laughs “I show you”.

We go inside and I follow him through the restaurant, up two flights of stairs and through two huge sets of double doors.  I catch a glimpse of a busy kitchen, staff charging in all directions.

And through the second set of doors we emerge into a scene from “Big Night”

A massive room with tables everywhere and waiters delivering huge plates of amazing looking and smelling food to Italian families.  Everyone is eating and drinking and laughing and gesticulating enthusiastically. 

Not a tourist in sight. This is where the real action happens.  And from the street you would never know it was all up there.

I am entranced, I lean against the wall and take it all in, every table has at least three generations talking and shouting over the top of each other.  Babies to great grandparents, Sunday dinner Italian style.

I catch the eye of a passing waiter and he grins at me "up here is better no?"  "Oh yes" it's wonderful".  He nods "Si, si signora, but of course".

Later the owner brings chocolates with the coffee "Dolce!!" he announces triumphantly.  

And gives me a look that I translate as "and I dare you to resist it"

So I don't, and they are little morsels of heaven.

When I go to pay the bill the owner is there again, just like American Express in those fabulous old ads from the 90's he is everywhere you want him to be.

"Everything was bene?" he enquiries "Si, molto bene, grazie mille" 

"Good, you come back again, we are always here"

And I don't doubt that they will be, and how lovely is that.