Roma. We only decided to go the day before. A massive cold front came through the north, temperatures plummeted and mist started falling from the sky. I had a completely unfounded notion that Rome would be a shell of its ancient glory, sucked of its soul by tourism. And that I would have my camera pickpocketed, which I had failed to insure before leaving Australia.
The house red
The other day Elspeth looks me in the eye and says “I can’t wait to be an adult.” Gauging from the smirk on her face, I don’t believe her for a second - but I play along. “Really. Why?” I ask. “Because I want to drink wine! And coffee!!” She cracks herself up laughing. I reassure her that being a child is infinitely better and we need to do those things to bring back the imagination and energy levels of our inner child.
Cinque Terre
I have been on the fence about taking the kids to Cinque Terre, renowned for its hiking trails linking intensely coloured villages cascading down craggy cliffs. I didn’t know if I had the stamina to experience this magic against a soundtrack of whinging and arguments. But after our time in Firenze, I realised it couldn’t possibly be worse.
Dolomites
A couple of months ago, Karl was doing some research on Italy; a concept that escaped me entirely. He raised the subject of bringing car seats for the kids, noting that the Italian standard was just a booster seat and that whilst that might be acceptable for Matisse, it was 300% illegal by Australian standards. At the time, I was feeling irresponsible and claimed if it was OK for the Italians, it was OK for me.