28 March 2024 – 7 April 2024

Our Easter trip this year was going to be a rapid tour of Israel and Egypt, which we were all super excited for. This was high on our ‘must do’ list and had been organised almost as soon as we landed in the UK. Tickets purchased, family informed, itineraries documented and diving trips booked. It is the perfect time to be in the region – not too hot, not too cold and we could just about cram our ‘Middle East Taster’ itinerary into a busy Easter holiday. 

Unfortunately this wasn’t to happen, and a few months ago we made the difficult decision to delay introducing the kids to this amazing part of the world until next year. Easyjet and BA were both all too happy to ‘refund’ our trip – which, after cancellation and other fees, left us not quite enough for a Standard Express train ticket.

The kids still rave about their Italian experiences in 2019/2020. These comprised a week in Tuscany with friends (where we sat in a Euro-style ‘resort’ cooked prawns, drank copious amounts of rose, swam and played table tennis) and a ‘day trip’ to Italy from Aix, where we had one of our most memorable lunches ever, in the mountains above San Remo. 

It was time to introduce them to a bit more of the ‘classic’ Italy, just enough to get them curious and make them want to come back again on their own. So, we chose Venice (because, well, canals), Rome (because it is Rome, and it is awesome), and Cinque Terre (because we wanted to get them hiking, and we hadn’t done this area before and heard it was wonderful). We also threw in Paris at the back end, to coincide with Sophie and Julien from Aix (now South Africa) for the weekend, which also happened to be the Paris Marathon, so we put that on the itinerary too. 

The other surreptitious goal of the trip was for the girl to fully take responsibility for all their own stuff. Packing it, and carrying it. All in. We were going to introduce them to train travel and backpacking – none of this ‘daddy drives you everywhere’ that they had got a bit too used to.

In preparation for the trip, the girls packed their own stuff. No checking, no safety nets. We were leaving on Thursday afternoon, straight after school. Jessie packed on Monday night. Sienna, taking Jessie’s lead, also packed on Monday (but did not pack pyjamas, something we discovered in Venice). Ellie packed Thursday afternoon when they got home from school. This basically sums them all up. As planned, Liz took a wheelie bag – as we didn’t have enough backpacks to go around. 

We all met at Liverpool Street Station for the girls’ first trip to Stansted Airport. Immediately, Ant was given Liz’s bag – meaning that he was now carrying his own pack + day pack + Liz’s bag. Apparently independence only goes so far. 

I’m not sure what we were expecting from Stansted Airport – our understanding was that it was put up in a hurry some 25 years ago when ‘Go’ and Ryanair were just starting up – a bit like a tent at Glastonbury – and was planned to be reconstructed into something more permanent at some stage. 25 years later, that stage is not yet upon us, and it is exactly the same as it was before. 

We knew what to expect from Ryanair, we played by the rules (still haunted by our 350 euro check in experience in Athens in the summer) and made our way to the gate. We didn’t even blink when the plane was delayed for 2 hours, just telling ourselves that is the price you pay for the discount fare. 

In any case, we survived the flight and touched down in Venice around midnight, pleasantly surprised that our bags were there to meet us at the carousel. 

The kids were shocked when we headed for the bus from Mestre into Venice – surely a car hire, or at least a cab? – but they recovered by the time we pulled into Venice and they saw that there were, in fact, no roads. 

Watching the kids’ faces as we made our way by ferry along a very quiet Grand Canal at midnight to our apartment near the Rialto Bridge was worth the Ryanair flight. We hadn’t been to Venice for almost 30 years (even longer for Liz) but still remember something of its beauty and uniqueness. The kids were gobsmacked as we passed palace after church after palace of stunning, brightly lit and sometimes slightly crumbling buildings on our $100, 20 mins ferry ride (yes, not a taxi or gondola, this was the public ‘ferry’ at $20 a trip) – but again, worth the price of admission. 

We piled into our wonderful Airbnb overlooking the Rialto markets and the Grand Canal beyond and passed out for the night. 

The next morning we woke to the bustling sound of the market below. We looked out the window to see the empty stands from the night before heaving with fresh fish, fruit, vegetables and spices. It wasn’t quite Aix, but it was far larger than we had expected. We threw some food at the kids and piled out of the house, keen to explore the city before the daytrippers arrived from the mainland. 

We spent the morning admiring the city from atop Saint Mark’s Campanile – the tower opposite the Doge’s Palace in St Mark’s Square. It offers sensational views of the Venice rooftops and beyond and gives a great introduction to the fact that Venice is actually a series of islands, rather than just a town with lots of canals running through it. 

From there, we made our way across the square to the Doge’s Palace, where Jessie gave us her pre-prepared guided tour, teaching us about the history of Venice as a Renaissance powerhouse, and the Doge’s role in leading this amazing city-state until it attracted Napoleon’s attentions in 1797. The Palace itself was incredible outside and in, both the architecture and the artwork providing a fascinating viewpoint into the city. 

By the time we left, the day trippers were in full force, and human based traffic jams were the order of the day as we made our way through the narrow ‘streets’ in search of affordable food.

Fun fact – Venice doesn’t have to be expensive (at least not for food) as long as you don’t mind standing up, and eating/drinking in the equivalent of a very non-covidsafe packed underground car. It is illegal (and enforced) to eat food on the street and to sit anywhere on streets or bridges, and there are heaps of good takeaway pizza or pasta places – so the order of the day seems to be to order your pasta in a box and then smash it whilst standing up in these tiny little shops. Or you can pay double to sit down and watch the tourists walk by. 

After some more exploration, the kids were cooked, so, after hitting the markets downstairs for supplies for dinner, we dropped them home and went out to invest all the money we’d saved on lunch in Aperol Spritz (and the excellent local ‘Standard’ Spritz) in the local square. A much better use of cash. 

Our attempts to DIY dinner were slightly waylaid by blowing the fuse in our apartment mid-cook, and not being able to find the fuse box. After a few unsuccessful attempts to call the landlord, we hit the streets looking to procure candles – from shops, then from restaurants. We came back empty handed, and settled for salads, mostly cooked risotto (not recommended) and cold meats for dinner in the dark, accompanied by the telling of stories. When we asked the kids what their highlight of Venice was at the end of our time there, they called out this night – apparently we should turn out the lights and serve crunchy rice more often. 

Eventually we found the fuse box (ground level, in a nondescript cleaning cupboard) and we were back in business in time to finish the night with some excellent gelato from down the road and into bed. 

The following day, after Ant explored pre-tourist Venice on a gentle run, we did the requisite photos by the canal. In particular Liz wanted to get a photo near the Rialto Bridge where he. mum had been around 40 years earlier.

For lunch, we invested in a 24 hour ferry price (for the bargain price of $50 AUD per person – ouch) and made our way to the beautiful Murano island, which is famous as the home of glass blowing in Venice (someone, after the great fires of the 1500s we assume, had recognised that it was not smart to have a glass blowing industry which requires lots of heat next to beautiful, wood framed palaces, and had moved the industry to another island). 

The island is stunning, and would be well worth staying on if we were to come again. Today we settled on a walk around its beautiful canals, bridges and buildings before an excellent lunch before a lovely boat ride back. 

Continuing the marine theme (hard to avoid in Venice), we then wandered across Venice (getting crunched but tourist induced ‘peak hour’) and acquiesced to the kids request to go on a gondola. Liz had done this before, but this was a first for Ant, despite this being his 4th visit here. No doubt something to do with the price tag. 

We parted with our almost $200 for our 30 mins of meandering down a backwater canal, into the grand canal (which felt something like taking a tricycle onto a motorway, dodging all the ferries and taxi boats) for some 100m, down another side canal to an industrial area, turning around and replaying our steps. Doing it with 3 kids, a 25 year old gondolier and within direct eyeline of about 2000 tourists made it about as romantic as catching the Underground at Bank in peak hour, but a lot slower, and (in the case of our trips up and down the Grand Canal) a fair bit more hazardous.

We made our way back home, and slid into our now proven recipe of pre-dinner drinks and home cooking, before heading out to wander the streets at night with a gelato in hand. 

The following morning we were up early and on a 7am boat heading back to the train station. This is the time to be in Venice – the early morning light glistening off the pastel colours of the amazing palaces and stately buildings, before the hoards of tourists descend for the day. It was unquestionably beautiful and unique, and we were so glad to have had the opportunity to come back here again, and to show this to the kids for the first time. 

We all felt a bit sad to be arriving at the train station, and back on ‘solid ground’ again, but we were excited to take our first train trip for the holiday, across the country to Cinque Terre. 

It took us 4 trains, 5 hours and some brisk hustling across Florence, Pisa and La Spezia stations to make our tight connections between trains, but we started catching glimpses of the Mediterranean by early afternoon, and shortly we were pulling into Monterosso del Mar, our base for the next couple of days. No bags or children were misplaced in the journey, so that was a success. The train trips were comfortable, relaxing and so much better than driving – so we’ll be looking to factor these into more of our trips going forward. 

Cinque Terre is famous for its 5 picturesque villages nestled within about 15 kms of each other and connected by walking trails (and trains) that meander along the stunning coastline between them (think Bondi to Bronte coastal walk but with beautiful hilltop villages rather than 1960s apartments between them).

We were told that the paths were well marked and the main hazard was likely to be falling over other tourists. In any event, we were excited to be doing some walking with the girls (something they haven’t exactly been ‘all in’ on previously) – this time they were curious, mainly because of the promise of pasta and gelato based bribery. 

Our initial plan was to split the main walk – from Monterosso to Riomaggiore – in 2 days, around 8 kms per day. This was unfortunately scuppered when we realised the southern section (Rio Maggiore to Manarola to Corniglia) was shut due to landslides, so we had to change our plans a bit. We would leave the ‘classic’ trail from Monterosso to Corniglia for our second day (when the weather looked perfect), on the first day we would head down to Riomaggiore and venture into the hinterland. 

We spent our first afternoon on our balcony and in the area exploring the town of Monterosso and planning our walk for the following day. There was plenty of literature on the ‘blue trail’ between the towns, the minute you ventured off this, things got a lot more sparse. The first night we were there, it rained some 50 mms, ensuring that the trails would be nice and slippery.

We headed out the next morning and took a train to the town of Riomaggiore, the southernmost of the 5 towns. We consulted with the local trail information, who suggested that we take a different route to the one that we had planned – we went with the local advice and changed our plans. Following his somewhat sketchy directions, we went in search of the trailhead – eventually being rewarded with the world’s smallest red and white symbol timidly scratched on a rock next to a gap in a hedge. 

We looked up at the ‘trail’ as it streamed water down the slippery rocks and muddy, steep trail making its way up the top of the ridge, heading inland. The girls looked nervous, and Jessie downright angry. We began to climb. 

We climbed for about 45 mins, reaching the top of the first ridge without spying another human. Signage was sporadic at best, with no indication of the trail that we were on until we made the top. Eventually we crossed a road between sections, and there was a realisation that the advice we had been given was probably not that well suited to the group we were with. We consulted our ‘map’ and it appeared we could bail out of the full walk if we headed along the road and connected with another trail to get down to Manarola. 

We set out, the girls particularly enjoying our ‘scenic’ route through a tunnel with cars sporadically zipping past.

Eventually we connected with another trail that seemed to be heading in the right direction, and slipped and slid our way back down from the ridgeline to Manarola. Fair to say that the girls were not that impressed with the first section of their hike, and there would need to be a significant amount of gelato on offer to make them hit another climb anytime soon. 

Having made our way back into Manarola we spied other humans for the first time since leaving Riomaggiore and spirits lifted. We connected with a different trail that made its way back up and over the ridge towards Riomaggiore and the much promised lunch. This trail was better sign posted and better maintained, and had a few people on it. It climbed steeply out of Manarola and had amazing views across both the hinterland and the coast beyond, before making its way back down to Riomaggiore over a 5km stretch. 

Spirits sagged on the way up, but by the time we made it down to Riomaggiore and lunch they had been lifted again. 

On (retrospective) consultation of the routes that we had taken this morning, we discovered that the trails we had taken were marked ‘expert’ – which was exactly what we had in mind for our first walk. Not. 

We offered the girls the opportunity to walk back home, but they took the option of the train instead. 

Our itinerary for day 2 was a little clearer – we would be taking the main trail from Monterosso to Vernazza (for lunch) and on to Corniglia (for gelato). This was the open part of the ‘classic’ trail that made this area so famous. 

After our promises of yesterday, there was a bit of trepidation from the kids today, but we got them moving after breakfast, assured that we were sticking to the coast and wouldn’t be climbing like yesterday. The sun was glistening off the Mediterranean as we walked out of Monterosso and spirits were high. 

The path was well maintained and clearly marked, and there was certainly more company than yesterday – although not so much as to be annoying. Whilst the trails and views yesterday had been pretty, they hadn’t been amazing, and so we were curious as to how today would play out. Maybe we had just been spoiled from having access to coastal walks in Australia and wouldn’t think that this walk was so special. 

We quickly answered this question as the rough hewn trail made its way across stunning coastal scenery, through terraced vineyards, passed gentle waterfalls and around and over steep headlands with the Mediterranean shimmering below in the spring sunshine. The nature was beautiful, but this was topped off when we rounded a headland and saw the village of Vernazza pop up – with its pastel coloured buildings and castle nestled on top of the hill. 

Like Venice, this place was genuinely unique and special, and we were so fortunate to be here. 

We stopped for lunch in Vernazza – some gnocchi and a glass of wine to rebuild energy and give us ‘courage’ for the next section – before hitting the trail again for the second section to Corniglia. There were no complaints this time as we climbed out of Vernazza and we literally skipped along the trails, taking in the beauty. 

We were almost sad when Corniglia popped its head up and we made our way down, stopped at the trailhead to confirm that the onwards trail to Manarola was indeed shut (confirmed, unless you want to take the inland ‘expert’ trail – we looked at each other knowingly on this one and declined). Instead, we settled for some excellent gelato in the beautiful Corniglia village (probably our favourite of the 5 towns) and made our way down the many, many stairs from the village to the train station below. 

When we got back to Monterosso, Jessie and Sena announced they wanted to do it all again, and started scampering back to the trailhead. That was not the reaction we had expected, but we’ll definitely mark that down as a win. 

The following day we made our way back from Cinque Terre on the local and regional trains before picking up the Via Rossa to Roma. Train travel through Italy really was awesome, and soon we left the Tuscan hills behind and not long before we pulled into Roma Termini. 

Long gone are the days where Roma Termini felt like the best place in Europe to get pick pocketed, where you could have a gypsy baby thrown in your face. The station has been cleaned up and now feels like an airport, where the coffee and pastries were excellent and Armani boutiques dominate. No doube you can still get pick pocketed there, but you get to look at shiny boutiques and drink good coffee whilst it happens, which is nice. 

Liz had outdone herself again with the accommodation, and our home for the few days in Roma was just opposite the Pantheon, right in the middle of the town. This was the girls first visit to Roma and we only had a few days, so we wanted to make the most of it. 

Our first afternoon in town we hit the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain – where Sena gave us an excellent lesson in it’s history and function – and on to the Spanish Steps, all the time marvelling at the sheer beauty of the ‘normal’ architecture around Rome, and of course dodging the ubiquitous vespas that buzz their way around the narrow city streets. 

Over the next few days we would do an excellent tour of the Colosseum,

do a fantastic drawing and painting class in the old jewish quarter (a redo of something we did on our last visit here 4 years ago),

Meet the pope….

learn to make and eat our own pizzas,

return to our favourite restaurant Da Gino de Parlamento at Parliament and

Favourite pizza at Campo Di Fiore

discover a new favourite Ai Tre Scalini thanks to Ellie’s tour guiding,

and, of course, eat our body weight in pasta, gelato and tiramisu – particularly popular in the evenings around the square in front of the Panenthon.

Rome delivered again, as it always does. There are so many reasons why its one of our European top 5 cities. 

Our last stop for the trip was Paris, to catch up with Sophie, Julien and the girls, and for Ant to try his hand at the Paris Marathon. 

Sadly we couldn’t make the train connections work in our timeframes, so we had to fly there – airport transfers, easyjet flights and taxis from Orly and so much less fun than watching the world go by from a train at 300 km/h. Still, despite Ant’s whinging, we arrived safely in Paris and to our hotel near Gare du Nord. 

It was lovely to see Sophie, Julien, Victoria-Louise and Alienor for dinner near the Bastille – the girls immediately picked up where they had left off in France 4 years ago – particularly Jess and Victoria Louise. The main difference now was that the conversations were happening in perfect, South African accented English rather than French, as they’ve been living in Cape Town for the last 3 years. 

The following day was the marathon, and Ant was up early to eat and try and convince his injured calf that it was going to be fine running the 42 kms around Paris. The last month had been more physios than running, after picking up an injury in training and it was pretty touch and go whether he would even get to start. 

The metros heading towards the starting line at Arc de Triomphe were packed with runners and supporters – the start times were stagged over some 4 hours to let the runners get away without starting a stampede. In our pre trip planning, we had anticipated an Australian style 7am start, leaving us time for a nice long lunch and a leisurely trip back to London on a 5pm Eurostar. In actual fact Ant got away at 1030. 

The run was spectacular. Thousands of supporters lined the tree lined boulevards as we made our way down the Champs Elysee, past the Place de la Concorde, around the Opera, the Louvre and up towards the Bastille. Ant took it relatively easy (keeping half an eye on the planned mountaineering trip to Mont Blanc in July) but was on track for a reasonable time at the halfway mark coming out of the Chateau to Vincennes. Liz and the girls were there at Bastille to cheer him on. 

Meanwhile the girls did a sneaky tour of Paris in between catching dad for a drinks break…

Sadly all went south at around 25 kms heading down the banks of the Seine towards the Eiffel Tower as Ant’s calf decided that springing off it was no longer feasible. The last 17 kms were covered in a weird, hobbling ‘speed walking’ gaite, which of course did no favours to overall times.

Liz and the girls said hi again outside the Louvre and then made their way back to the hotel to grab all the bags and get to the train station, leaving Ant a target to finish the race and not miss the Eurostar back to London. 

As Ant came out of the Bois de Boulougne for the last couple of kilometres, the increasingly concerned phone calls from Liz started. Gare du Nord was heaving, customs and security were not coping and the line was out the door. So much for our nice long lunch, we were now scrambling to get our train home. 

Finally Ant made it across the finish line, and as others collapsed and warmed down, he continued on without stopping, grabbing the medal and t-shirt and pushing into the packed metro station to get to the Gard du Nord. Warming down would have to wait until the Eurostar line – which attracted more than a few strange looks. 

Our ‘long lunch’ ended up being a baguette on the train, with a cheap bottle of rose to wash it down. Textbook recovery stuff.

We had covered a lot of ground in just 9 days. We’d seen some amazing sights, given the girls a bit of a taster for European train travel, caught up with friends and ‘run’ the Paris marathon. It was now time to head back to London and start the summer term – where the days get longer, exams get closer, the trees explode with green and cricket takes over pretty much every spare moment of family time. 

We’d had a great break and we were ready to get back into it.