Genova Today

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RAIN SET IN UNTIL END NOVEMBER

That’s right folks, it has predicted (according to the captain) that it will rain in Genova until the end of November, although the weather prediction says otherwise http://uk.weather.com/weather/10day-ITXX0031. This so called "forecast", however, will not deter social lives as the weekend ahead is said to be debaucherous and everyone attending should bring rain coats or umbrella’s and probably helmets. This news also yields a possible no-show by the boss which means freedom for the rest of winter. We are on stand-by and will keep you updated.

CHEF TO RETURN

Bruce, our South African-born chef, is said to return on Sunday the 21^st of October for an undecided period of time due to boredom, both on his side and the side of the crew. Thank goodness because I fear my secretly (and surprisingly) good culinary skills are earning me the name of cook for the winter and its just too stressful I tell you! I will now also finally be able to get my Charmaine* on in accordance with aforementioned debaucherous weekend.

EXTRA-CURRICULA's

My search for a yoga centre has sadly bared no fruit and, although I continue to keep my hopes up that perhaps I might get a reply to my class inquiry, I feel I am forced to join the City Gym which Al and Ruben are addicted to. I like to look at it as a crew bonding opportunity and a way to keep the muffin out of my muffin-top during the winter. I went for a try out and I must say there aint no gym like an Italian gym. Step class was hilarious and Boxing kicked my ass, but had the best instructor! He cant speak English unfortunately so Im gonna be hitting them Italian language books hard!

Cervinia

There is also talk of snowboarding/skiing sessions in the upcoming weekends in the mountains of Cervinia. If the snow has started falling is a different question. Nevertheless I look forward to making a fool of myself whilst attempting to become a pro snowboarder.

Gin and Tonic night also seems to be catching on. It is a night randomly picked during the week where I sporadically decide to have a Gin and tonic with whoever will join. This week it was Tuesday night and mention must go out to Simon from Happy Days for educating me on the history of Malta.

On that note, more intelligent reading shall be done so as to involve oneself (me) more in conversations such as the aforementioned one about Malta. “Wow” and “That’s so hectic” can only keep the conversation flowing for so long. (Also note to self, buy a kindle).

HOLIDAY ADVENTURES

I have also officially booked my ticket to Ireland for the 21^st of December and am going to be staying with Tara, a friend from home. I am way too excited considering it is only October and cant help but picture a “P.S. I Love You” type scenario, although without the dying husband part. So more just the part of falling hopelessly in love with a handsome Irishman, and him also falling equally in love with me – that part is quite imperative.

And finally, my broken heart has forced me to spew out a poem to honour a friend that I have lost, explain the waning of relationships and how love just makes you feel shit in general. Enjoy.

To Have Loved and Lost

The sting of winter hits like a thousand knives,

Cutting, cutting, slowly cutting.

The wounds are deep but there is no blood,

Yet is feels like my body is drained of warmth and life.

The tree’s are bare, there’s no-one there,

I wander and wonder why it had to end,

Why the tree’s and blooms we bother to tend.

Year in, year out, they always die,

Their beauty just a passing sigh,

A whisper of what could be,

An empty promise of what you cant keep.

My heart is ice and my eyes are dry,

I have no more tears to cry,

The twinkle I held dear in my eye,

Left without even saying goodbye,

I look back and see the signs,

I really was alone the whole time.

Disillusioned by a giddy love,

Only from one heart and never enough.

And so I sit and feel a fool, for ever having loved you.

*Charmaine (v;ad): Refers to one Charmaine Kerry Crouch. used to describe actions of  raucous proportions, includes but is not limited to, dancing on tables, skinny dipping, running around (naked or otherwise), being the life of the party, causing mayhem etc. Usually linked with drinking (up to and including numerous bottles of wine, vodka and other alcohols). Can be done during the week or on weekends. 

Rocking the Crazies

Home really is where the heart is and there is nothing better than coming home after 6 months knowing that you have money to spend, friends and family to see and good times to be had.

Me and Lanie

Dad and puppy Nietschka

I arrived at JHB international and burst into tears at the sight of my mother (because I was so happy to see her). I went home, hugged my cat and lay on my bed, it felt so good. I visited the spectacular Botanical Gradens with my aunt, cousin, mom and second mom. I got to see Lanie – not under the best circumstances (RIP Leila) but it was great to see her again, always the first to pop in when I get back! I got to see all my school mates at a braai organised by one of my oldest friends, Nikita Saber – we’ve been friends for 17 years! I jammed at Tiger Tiger with the most awesome group of boys I know and even got to meet some Aussie rugby players!

Me and Mom

Botanical Gardens

Then, to spoil my fun, I had to do what I came back to do – renew my visa. Dum dum dum (dramatic music sounding in the background), because as every South African passport holder who wants to go ANYWHERE knows, you simple cant buy a plane ticket and leave. No, you have to give a book size stack of papers proving that you are indeed an upstanding citizen (which I am) and will be returning to your country after a limited amount of time (which I am not). Anyway this time around I had the right papers but still didn’t get the visa I wanted….endless frustration I tell you! So any EU or British passport holders, do not take those things for granted, you have no idea how easy your life is.

Because this time around I had got the visa process (mostly) right, I realised that I had 2 weeks left in SA to play, and as everyone knows, when I have time to play, I pick Cape Town as my playground. In a weird coincidence my brother’s friends’ aunt was on the same flight as me and gave me a lift to Stellenbosch where the adventure began. Staying at my brothers place was definitely more bearable than usual thanks to my OCD complex leading to me providing them with cleaning products which had, suspiciously, lasted a whole year.  Anyway as it was test time Stellies wasn’t its usual raucous self, which was probably not to my detriment. Spent some quality time with my brother and cousin, watched some rugga, drank beer, ate biltong and walked around with no shoes. It was a good couple of days but then it was time to head to Cape Town. Thanks must go to Mike Ceruti for the lifts, shelter and the Mandela-Rhodes place and entertainment during my stay, which was also contributed to by Bronwyn Morris. I got to catch up with an old flame, another school friend and my old flat mate. It made for a great week.

And then….there was this thing that just kept getting in my face, it was everywhere I turned and eventually I couldn’t ignore the signs any longer. So, my plane ticket scheduled for Saturday was excitedly and also bank-breakingly {new word} changed to Sunday. Ticket was bought and plans were made. I was officially going to Rocking the Daisies with Bronnie, her flattie, Randall and the Herms girls. I then got a call from my blood, who was trying to make plans with me for the weekend. To solve the dilemma of me being in Darling and him in Stellies, I got him a ticket. So now the weekend crew was complete.

Darling

So finally Friday came, and what should happen, possibly the worst thing ever, the car we were going to RTD in started smoking from the engine and this was accompanied by a foreboding  electric smell. After opening the bonnet for closer inspection we agreed that we had no idea what we were looking at but that the car was most definitely undriveable {another new word}. This was not ideal but thanks to a lot of tears and sympathy at the VW workshop, we hired a Yaris, cheap cheap. This was one of those truly significant moments where I truly felt all grown up. So up we packed and 5 of us plus luggage, tents and groceries and off we went. After quite a smooth drive and a less than smooth wait in traffic to get in, we finally made it and headed into the camping area. It was unbelievable packed and we found our campsite located a bit too close to the toilets. Later we realised this was only really a problem when the poo truck came. Nevertheless we didn’t plan on spending much time there considering the amazing line-up and attractions that the festival held.

Shanty Town

Me and Bron

After a hubbly session which resulted in some blisters on my leg due to unnecessary pipe tugging, we headed to the main stage to check out what was going on. We managed to see Machineri which had a few good tunes but were a bit too heavy for my taste. Next was December Streets which was definitely a favourite. Unfortunately, because of aforementioned car troubles we missed Short Straws, Two Minute Puzzle and Beatenberg, all definitely worth a listen.

After a large night and not so much sleeping, especially because we were situated on a fairly main thoroughfare, among other x-rated reasons, the next morning was mostly spent waiting in numerous lines for much needed coffee and showers in the Daisy Den (specifically equipped with hot water, hair dryers and mirrors for those not so hippy hipsters). After which we headed back to our stomping ground to see Trenton and Free Radical. We then decided to visit the comedy tent but arrived a couple of hours early and only realised about an hour into waiting to off we went again and I believe we saw The Rudimentals but its hard to tell. My dear brother then led me to the drunk side and roped me into the “eco-friendly”/slightly degrading task of collecting a cup full of stompies to trade for a full can of Black Label. After some more pointless shenanigans and some stuff I cant really recall we enjoyed a smashing performance (as always) by Desmond and the Tutu’s. Some electro tent vibes and some jamming in a tent that looked like a shanty town we headed over to the much anticipated Bloc Party performance. Besides the fact that at this point I had pretty much no idea where anyone I knew was (I later found out my brother had wandered into a vineyard and was reliving his lunch time meall), I thoroughly enjoyed myself. The performance was electric and the crowd was pulsing with energy. The night continued in a similar fashion and did not stop until morning.

Main Stage

Tent view

All-in-all the performances I saw, and remember seeing, were outstanding and all deserve a YouTube search. The next day we engaged in the painful task of packing up in the rain. I then realised that, oh no, my flight was not far off and we hadn’t even exited the farm yet. I filled the car with tension on the drive to the airport. Thank goodness just made it because my mom and bank would have been less than impressed had I missed my flight. I ended up flying with my high school Maths teacher and the December Street’s guys – and yes I did get star struck. Finally made it home and enjoyed my last home cooked dinner before another flight the next day.

Me and the best brother in the world, Siemon Smit

This blog entry is dedicated to all my amazing friends and family who never fail to warm my heart and make me wonder why I left home. 

La La Land

When money falls into the hands of, how should we put it, the slightly eccentric, things can go dangerously awry as I learnt on our last charter. We were given a 10 day charter in the middle of our boss trip, what a relief…..or so we thought. We were about to find out how sorely mistaken we were.

Two days before their arrival, we were to expect 5 guests. The day before, it went up to 7. An hour before it went up to 8 and not long after back down to 5. Eventually it settled on 5 sleep on guests and 3 extra for dinner. The numbers weren’t the problem but the constant changing of plans should have been our first clue about the madness that was about to ensue.

That night we welcomed Madam, her husband, best friend, teenage daughter and friend. The first night went as smoothly as planned as we had the chief of police of Monaco on board, it kind of had to go according to plan. Although he was a very nice chap and didn’t seem to mind chaos too much as it came with him in the form of his 5 year old son (we were literally running after him). This evening lulled us into a false security that led us to believe that this was going to be the easiest charter ever, I mean, 4 stews, 5 guests, maybe a couple more, what could go wrong??

The next day is when the madness began. Now it is all very confusing as the charter was kind of upside down (awake all night, sleep all day) but I think this is how it went…..

View of the boat from Hotel Splendido

View of Hotel Splendido from the boat

We made the 6 hour trip to Portofino where the crew were treated to dinner at the Hotel Splendido. The best hotel in in Portofino required the best ensemble, so off we – I want to say trotted but we were, in fact, chauffeured, looking rather dapper. We were greeted with Belini’s (champagne and peach juice for those who don’t know), whilst listening to the live in-house pianist and made small talk with the teenagers about Justin Bieber (obviously), appropriate club wear and who the best comedians were. I cant remember what I ordered for a starter, so it couldn’t have been that good but the duck I had for main was delicious as was the strawberry tart for dessert. After dinner, feeling slightly fuller and slightly tipsy we returned smack bang to reality and off goes the gorge dress and on with the uniform. My night was made rather exciting though thanks to Tom and his fishing skills. He managed to hook an eel and bring it to the surface but  made the mistake of handing the rod to an inexperienced fisherman who let the bugger get away. I think this was much to Toms relief, he made no secret of the fact that he hated eels.

Not long after sunrise (around the same time we went to bed), we were heading for Nice airport, 6 hours in the opposite direction, to pick up another guest. And then back to Portofino again. And then back to Nice airport for some more guests and then back to Portofino again! We ended up making the trip 3 times in 2 days and clearly burning fuel (and shit load of money) was not their highest concern.

Sunset at anchor in Cannes

Amongst all the mad travelling, we also had slightly made guests. Madame was rather fond of rosè – slightly diluted in a huge glass which was drunk as a breakfast replacement and for refreshment throughout the day. There was also trails of vogue cigarette and jack daniels and coke (a splash of coke poured into a generous amount of jack, that is). Magnesium sachets were also taken at breakfast (rosè), ironically, to prevent complete bodily breakdown from alcohol abuse.

Husband was also quite an interesting character who was equally fond of the vino and had to be reminded everyday where his cabin was, despite it being the only one on the middle deck. When emerging for breakfast (around 12), my “bonjour” was greeted with what I can only describe as a kind of grunted “meeeeeehhhhh” sound and the sight of his shirtless torso – think shrek sized belly, sometimes pants-less and on one occasion wearing his wife’s shirt. Madame’s rather suspicious “best friend” couldn’t speak English (slight difficulty), always carried Madam’s money for her and argued with her like they were an old married couple. Lesbian rumours were hardly squashed when Madam revealed she hadn’t slept with her current husband….ever and after a particularly vino fulled evening and early morning gave Danny kisses on her neck.

Anyway after Nice airport we made our was to Bonafacio where we were treated to a lobster dinner at the islands best seafood restaurant. The lobster pasta was the best and the crumbed mussels are also a definite must-try!

The travelling circus then proceeded to Elba, against the captains wishes as there was a huge strom brewing just off the coast but what charter guests want, charter guests get! The next day I got to experience what the boys had been suffering all trip long – non-stop energiser bunny on a mission to fish water-sport and beat the boys to death. After some fun banana boating and not so fun but rather suicidal manta ray* riding, I walked away with a salt chafed throat, bleeding and grazed, with much higher respect for the boys.

The last day was by far the worst. Two-to-three meter swells, an 18 hour journey with guests who, in the midst of head-splitting crashes of crockery on the floor, vomiting guests and crew occupying all bathrooms, lethargic, seasick teenagers, asks you – who is basically K.O. on the sky lounge floor – in his slow grunty French bur: “ou est le van blanc” (where is the white wine). Most people in my situation would have brought their breakfast back up but luckily I hadn’t eaten for 24 hours so I stumbled over to Tom with a glass and he did the rest thankfully.

After what seemed like a life-time of craziness we waved goodbye to our guests, only to see them an hour later for dinner again. This charter really was lasting forever. So up the hill in Monaco we went to a quaint Italian restaurant where we were force fed not only heaps of food, but also bottles and bottles of wine and limoncello, which is the last thing you feel like after being seasick for 18 hours. Eventually after the longest dinner ever, half of which I found numerous different ways of disposing of countless shots of limoncello on the sly, it was home time. Very disappointingly and after all the cocktail making, cookie baking, mad water sports, drunken ramblings (we were the recipients), cleaning  and cooking critiques, crazy travelling and guests who took the phrase “make yourself at home” way too literally (sometimes eating dinner in the crew mess), we were left with nada.

The Last Supper

Its hard to believe that all this happened in the space of 10 days but as the title suggests, this really is a crazy world and I suggest to everyone who wants to become above financially stable, make sure you are also mentally stable or risk causing madness (and not the good kind) wherever you go.

Nom Nom Nom

This one is for the foodies out there!!

 Now I am in no way, shape or form (excuse the pun) headed for a career on the cat walk or swim suit editions of Vogue and I have come to peace with this fact. So instead of trying to do an all-liquid diet, no carbs after five, a tea only day (my own invention) or my favourite: cutting out EVERYTHING that has sugar in it – yeah right – I am now happy to indulge in whatever delicious treats come my way.

You see the key is not to cut out food groups or food altogether, or tasting food and then throwing it back up again, the key is, everything in moderation. Being the little piggy I am, this is still an on-going battle I am trying to win; striking a balance. It is, however, an extremely difficult feat when your boss buys 5 cakes at a time, making sure he finds out what your favourite is first as well as the fact that the chef on board is extremely proficient at dessert-making as he is an ex-pastry chef.

As a stewardess, its difficult to make it to meal times when guests are on board because we are at their beck and call and when we do get to sit down for five minutes we stuff as much as we can down our gullets because we don’t know when we will get another chance. I suppose that is also why we get extremely fat during the winter months, we are busy preparing ourselves for the busy summers. Anyway, I have picked out my favourite starter, main and dessert that (fellow safa) Bruce Marais has made so far and thought I should share that as well as a few other amazing meals I have been fortunate enough to sample.

Favourite Starter: Crumbed goats cheese with a baked fig.

Favourite Main: Grilled duck with beetroot, carrot and spinach, topped with an orange sauce

Favourite Salad: Salmon, quails eggs, beetroot, rose petal, and truffle salad

Favourite Dessert: Chocolate fondont 

Other delicious treats!

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Villa Life

You might think this is going to be a glamorous entry because of the title, but I assure you it is far from it.

The Villa

Sometimes when people have too much money they don’t know what to do with themselves so they buy a yacht. Basically a floating hotel that can take you almost anywhere in the world at your disposal. But this isn’t always enough so,  what a lot of yacht owners do is buy Villa’s as well. And not in a different place, no sir-ee, they buy a villa that is just up the road from the port that their boat is based in because when you get bored of the boat, you go up to the villa darling. And visa-versa.

So I found myself being taken away from the luxuriously air-conditioned interior of a super yacht where my most strenuous task was perhaps hoovering, to an ancient, dilapidated building where the furniture was older than me, clearly no magic cleaning fairies lived, and had recently fallen prey to a disastrous septic tank leakage and was now entirely covered in mouldy spores.

Beautiful olive tree

It has been the boss’s family holiday house for nearly five decades and not very well looked after. The boss’s wife, refused last year to stay there and I don’t blame her in the slightest. To say it needed re-doing is an understatement. So when the septic tank burst it gave her the perfect excuse to chuck the ancient furniture and start afresh. It was originally meant to be the top three rooms but it soon turned into so much more. Luckily we were left out of most of the upstairs re-modelling but we were dragged, forced smiles and fake enthusiasm on hand, to do all the dirty work. That’s right, there we found ourselves, in the middle of what I swear were the most scorching days of the summer, carting LOADS of crap in a wheel-barrow, up and down the hill. TV’S, couches, toys, tables, chairs, paintings, crockery, you name it, we chucked it.

Poolside view

Between the sweltering heat, heavy lifting and madam’s high pitched voice in our ears, I’m surprised no-one was killed. For four whole days we continued like this. Boris was near resignation point with the shelving incident, Tom, Ruben and Al were getting seriously ripped – against their will, Lisa and I were having our ears drilled and choking on mouldy spores, and all of us felt like we were going to drop down dead if there was so much as a light breeze the blew in our direction.

There was, however, a time at the end of the day that was magical. The boss barbequed all types of meat, there was bread of every kind, tomato tartar, and of course, the cakes. We all got to enjoy the sparkling pool and a cold beer. We also played badminton and boulles on the perfectly manicured lawn. That was our silver lining. But just as we were all getting comfortable with the good life, back to the boat we went, uniform, ice-buckets, dinner service and just like that the French Dream was shattered.

The boys playing Boulles

Pool break for Captain and Lisa

The funniest moment had to be when Madam was toasting us for all our help and said: “Ah but it was fun, and I think everybody enjoyed themselves.” This statement was greeted by silence and everybody hastily took a sip of champagne before they either laughed or swore at her.

Being subjected to this kind of manual labour, which is not in the original job description can really open your eyes. And here are some valuable lessons I have learned:

1)      Don’t marry for money, it isn’t everything, in fact in the greater scheme of life it means nothing.

2)      Everyone deserves to be treated with respect, whether it’s the gardener, the garbage man or Richard Branson, they are all people with lives and families and stories that should not be judged or dismissed because of their occupation.

3)      Don’t let Tom get hold of an electric fly swatter.

4)      Putting yourself in someone else’s shoes always gives you the best perspective.

5)      There’s nothing a cold glass of wine can’t fix.

Charter madness

I’ve been a bit tardy on my blog entries because we have been on charter for the past 10 days….my first charter ever!! And man was it easy! Six Russian guests travelling Corsica, Sardinia and Cannes and lucky for me I picked the first late night and because we alternate Danny got all the drunken Jagermeister and Limoncello nights so I definitely had it good.

Erosion effects

A beautiful doorway in Corsica

We managed to have quite a bit of time off considering we had guest on board and Bonafacio, Corsica was our first stop. It’s a beautiful island that depends heavily on tourism for survival. It is a quaint, clean, fresh island home to some unexpectedly rough people so Im told – every second shop is a knife shop! You don’t want to mess with a Corsican…or call them French, even though it’s a French island and French is their native language (?). Anyway its particularly beautiful when entering the port because you can see the effect that thousands of years of erosion has had on the walls which gives the island its fresh, clean look.  The small bars, restaurants and shops on the ports doorstep are only the tip of the iceberg and if you venture up the winding path to the top of the hill you discover the real Corsica. Shops with all leather items, a beautiful greenhouse blooming  with flowers, rustic restaurants tucked away in street corners, a shop containing every kind of hat you could imagine and the best part once you reach the top are the breath-taking views. Its no wonder the island can survive on tourism alone; definitely a must-see!

Bonifacio harbour

After the guests got comfortable and enjoyed the island we headed off to Corsica’s neighbour, Sardinia. It’s a bit, for lack of a better word, weird to think that these islands so close together belong to completely different countries, Sardinia being Italian. It has a completely different feel to it; old world, rough and cosy. Porto Cervo, however beautiful and prestigious, for me, was just a glorified network of ridiculously expensive shops where credit cards go to be abused and it nearly caught me in its evil web with a pair of 270 euro Tiffany and Co’s sunglasses, and that was the discount price.  Porto Cervo was built by the Agar Kahn who is essentially a stateless king of Muslims and was paid in jewels from Muslims the world over. Needless to say he became extremely wealthy and decided to create his own resort. So Porto Cervo was born and is now a playground for the rich and famous. It is a very pretty place, don’t get me wrong and it reminds me a bit of a Smurf village, but unless you are out to do some star spotting or serious and I mean SERIOUS spending, I wouldn’t give it a must-see-before-you-die-rating. After a couple of nights there we started our trip to none other than St Tropez. Not the greatest trip I must say, the boat rolling and doing corkscrews in the waves while trying to serve tea and drinks is kind of a challenge but eventually we made it.

It was such a vaaib as soon as we entered, you could feel happiness bouncing off your skin. After a quick stop in Port we went back out to sea to a bay nearby where the guests enjoyed jet skiing, seabobbing, swimming and platform wars. I even managed to slip in a sneaky swim and the sea was gorgeously refreshing. A friends boat also pulled up alongside ours and they came to say hi on the seabob which was quite cool! Back in Port later that night I managed to get a bit of time off to see friends and take a walk around. Barbarac ice-cream was my first stop of course, try the cookies flavour if you ever go, delicious! While we were there we also managed to go into a great vintage shop called Blah Blah, Roberto Cavalli , just for laughs and continue my hunt for awesomely reasonably priced sunglasses…which was unsuccessful because we were in St. Tropez, duh!

Fireworks in Cannes

Alas our time there had to end and off we went to Cannes. A couple more days of jet skiing and swimming and an amazing and quite dramatic fireworks show and the guests were off. By the end of the trip it was a close contest about who had a better time, but I certainly enjoyed myself. So Im quite happy to say first charter done and dusted, next up is the boss and his family for 6 weeks of madness. I have been told to prepare myself so I am stocking up on plenty of chocolate and red bull. Bring it on!

The Bland Band

You know, I keep thinking that staying in Genoa will get boring but every weekend just gets better and this weekend was probably the apex…of my life. And it was all thanks to the Bland Band who are anything but!

The Bland Band -  Gustaf Jacobson,  Olle Hylén,  Anton Torstensson, Axel Öberg   

Going for a stroll, Bruce and I decided to stop for our usual at Purple Bar. “We’ll only go for two drinks” he said. “Yes”, I agreed, “two drinks ONLY”, because we all know what happens when you say “one drink only”. We both nodded very seriously. So after great conversation and our custom made cocktails we headed back home. We rounded the last corner when what do I hear? A cover of Mumford and Sons being played in the square, and I can’t resist Mumford and Sons so we stopped to listen. The next thing we hear is that the band can’t play anymore, the police were shutting them down and we had already decided that we wanted to hear more, so Bruce went over and invited them to play at La Goletta (our local jol). They were cool enough to say yes. So off we went with our new band, their cello in a pram, guitars, drums, a bango, alles! 2 drinks turned into 3, which turned into 20, we jammed to an awesome sound, drank,  chatted, laughed, drank some more and the next thing we know the sun is coming up and we had made friends for life. Axel, Anton, Olle and Gustaf are currently travelling around Europe in their camper van playing whenever and wherever they feel like, going where the wind takes them and taking one day at a time. We happened to be in the right place at the right time to be lucky enough to meet them!

Transportation for the cello

The next day was recovery day but later that evening we were ready for round 2. Bruce and I had already secured our positions as co-managers by booking them a second gig at La Goletta because we’re cool like that. This time the drinking preceded the playing and by 10 o clock things were getting exciting. They started to play, and I’m not exaggerating, literally had the entire restaurant’s attention. They blew their opening act out the water and even attracted customers from neighbouring restaurants and bars. They wowed the crowd so much so that a captain from a boat down the key actually paid them to go back to the yacht and play. We were now officially their entourage so of course we went with. So there we were, sipping free beer, on the back of a beautiful boat, listening to the greatest band in the world. Life was great. But, the sun eventually began to rise…again, so inconvenient! So we decided to all call it a night; or a day?

Portofino beach

Portofino was on the agenda for Sunday lunch so off we hopped on the ferry and no matter how many times I go there, it takes my breath away every time. After lunch at a restaurant on the harbour we took a stroll to the beach where we swam in the crystal clear blue water and lay on the beach. After a while Gustaf, Axel, Anton and Olle joined us and while I slept (like a granny after two nights of hard partying) they enjoyed each other’s company sunbathing and bombing into the water. Last to leave the beach, we stopped for cold beers and ice-cream and Gustaf took a shower in his boxers in the middle of the street in Porto Fino – we all laughed at him but he ended up being the clever one because the boys didn’t have any shower in their camper van.

The last supper

We took the train home, and had a final dinner of good old Italian pizza and rosso vino. The next day we said a final goodbye and I must admit, there was I did have something in my eye, it might have been a tear or something. After meeting these incredibly  genuine, humble, talented young men my faith in the world and its people has been restored. Even though it was a brief encounter, its one I will never forget and they are definitely memories to be treasured.  

The Bland Band are extremely talented live performers who definitely deserve a listen so do yourself a favour and check out their video’s on YouTube and like them on Facebook: facebook.com/theblandband. 

Viva Italia!!

Having lived in Italy for just over two months now, I have come to realise a few things about the Italian way of life.

First of all Italian sense of time is completely different to the standard sense of time. If an Italian tells you that they want to meet you for coffee at 19:30, they don’t, they actually want to meet at 20:00 because as they are walking down the street to wherever they need to go, they will see their uncles, brothers, wife’s cousin and stop to chat about the weather, their new shoes and how baby Riccardo is doing. So instead of arriving early and getting looks of pity from passers-by because they all assume you’ve been stood up, always plan for an extra half hour and save yourself the trouble.

Another one that can be summed up in one word: coffee. Coffee with breakfast, coffee before lunch, coffee after lunch, afternoon coffee, a Guiness with the football (which they call a long cappuccino…so basically a coffee) and a coffee with dessert of course! It is their life blood, their holy to their grail, the bread to their butter, their i to their Phone. So if you ever want to make an Italian happy, learn how to make a killer espresso and serve it hot enough to burn their tongue and they will be calling you amore before it hits their stomach.

This next one ties in with my first observation but has to be said separately nonetheless. There will be arms waving around in the air of at least five people, yelling, pointing, rude gestures and heated debates when there is a problem to solve, whether it be how to rid the country of poverty or simply which coffee machine does the best job. Italians love to argue and complain about EVERYTHING, and they like to knock people out with their ‘waving of the handsa’* in the process. In this culture a good argument must always precede any action. That is why (and this is where the time thing comes into play), any task takes ten times longer to accomplish than in the rest of the world. Do not try to rush it, you’ll only get yourself in a tizz, rather sit down, let the hand waving rage on and have a coffee.

Enjoying an apperativo in Piazza Ferarri with Seh bear! 

There are things, however, that Italians are particularly good at. The first thing that may come to your mind is food, pasta, pizza, gelato! Correct! I know because I am an expert on the matter having fed myself with these things to the point of near overdose. Luckily it didn’t go that far so I still can (and do) have a gelato every day. Other than that: apperativo’s – small snacks that are ALWAYS served with your drink at any point up until about 8 o clock. Best invention ever and should be spread around the world immediately if not sooner. In the afternoon, you’re hungry, but In the afternoon, you’re hungry, but you are also thirsty and need to relax after a hard days work, you meet your friend for a beer and BOOM you get food and drink at the same time, at no extra cost! No wonder Italians are so happy!!

This next one is for the girls. I am quite a fan of all things girlie and hence have quite a bit of experience and knowledge when it comes to hair, nails and all things Venus. So I must say that Italians know their shit! Best hair dressing salon experience I’ve had was at Mods hair, a company originally founded in Paris with branches all around the world, but I swear Genoa has the best one! The manager comes around to each individual to discuss cut and colour in depth with you so that they know exactly what you want. When getting your hair washed the chairs actually massage you and there are little chocolates in the counter you can munch on when getting a cut! Your colouring (if you choose to do any), goes into their database so they know exactly what to use when doing touch-ups. It was seriously a heavenly experience. My waxer and facialist also knows exactly what she’s doing and is not afraid to get all up in there during a Brazilian if you know what I mean!

But the most wonderful thing about Italians has to be their friendly nature. They are always interested and willing to help any stranger they meet. Even when they cant speak your language they will talk anyway and do anything they can to make sure what you are trying to communicate, is understood.

Every country has its pro’s and cons but what with the delicious food, passionate people and old world charm, Italy is definitely a winner.

*To be said with an Italian accent

Midsummer Dream

You know those weekends where you feel like you’re in a dream and at the end of it you just feel like you’ve forgotten you work five days a week and have no idea how you’re going to survive on Monday? Yeah….I definitely had one of those.

Midsummer snacks!

Flower power!

It started off with Midsummer celebrations. Midsummer is a traditional Swedish holiday, almost as big as Christmas celebrated in the beginning of the summer with traditional food, dancing and flowers. I know what you’re thinking, “It’s not the middle of summer, its only the beginning!” but the Swedish are weird and no-one knows why it’s called that (well no-one I know anyway). So Anna, Dannie and I got into it full swing and made flower wreaths for our hair, got the chef Bruce to make traditional food and got everyone to go out on a drunken disorderly missions as that is what these holidays are ACTUALLY about.

Sys

So we started off at the Purple Bar in a Piazza in Genoa, they make really awesome cocktails and the place is humming with activity. Next we hit the Shot Bar. The boys got absinthe, which they couldn’t handle and the girls of course got marshmellow shots. They, give you a marshmellow on a skewer  then light some alcohol on a flat surface, over which you braai your marshy, dip it in the shot, consume then down the shot. It.Is.Delicious. We headed to Piazza Ferarri – slightly stumbling at this stage and hailed a cab. We were off to the beach front for the raucous part of the evening and Bruce got us nicely started yelling cazzo and vaffanculo out the window to passers-by. We headed to a new bar Sys and after a bit of haggling, Tom got us nice and sorted with VIP treatment: a table and a 1.5 litre bottle of Grey Goose and mixers that came in a sparkly haze to our dry mouths. After that was an epic blur of dancing and drinking and dancing and drinking until….uh oh, too much!! Made it home just in time though…

The next day was an early start and a four hour drive to Firenze for apartment hunting for Tom and Dannie for the end of the season. Sitting in a hot car with no air conditioning and no music is definitely one way NOT to cure a hangover. After the quickest tour around Firenze we were off to the countryside to stay at the Captain and his wife’s house for the night. Braaing ribs, watching hundreds of fireflies down in the valley and star gazing made the trip all worth-while. The next day was a late lie-in and a scrumptious breaky.

Firenze

My room in Firenze

But…its not over! We packed a picnic and headed for Pisa beach. It was packed to the max and you actually have to pay a euro each for a patch of sand, such a cheek! But once we hit the water, got some ice-creams and had quite a heated bat and ball match we forgot about all our cares and eased into the summer haze.

 But…its still not over! We made it back just in time for the England-Italy game, which normally I wouldn’t care about but Rubes and Al had money riding on it and I always love to see them squirm - mainly because they are always slagging off SA's sporting abilities. So when Italy won, I couldn’t help but laugh alone with the rest of the Italian fans. Don’t worry Rubes got his on back by ripping off his shirt and yelling: “We work on boats bitches”, (like it has something to do with anything) at the top of his lungs while standing on the bow. And with that a fireworks display erupted and we were mesmerized.  I swear I am not making this up. But come Monday morning it really did feel like a dream.  Sigh…back to toilet scrubbing I go. Until next time folks!

I AMSTERDAM!!

Dear Amsterdam,

I am sorry our time together was so short. Even though you left me liver-broken and penny-less, I will always cherish the memories of long walks in the red light district, visiting favourite coffee shops and making fun of wasted tourists while munching on brownies. You are perfect and I will think of you always, never change, until we meet again….

Train station

Ahhhh, the sweet smell of weed in the middle of the day….in the middle of the city….actually no, everywhere! When you think Holland, you think Amsterdam and when you think Amsterdam, you think red light district but there’s actually way more to do in Amsterdam and the red light district is awesome but surprisingly small.

I arrived on Friday afternoon after getting up at 5am, a change over in Rome and a hideous flight with 2 babies and a fat guy snoring and drooling on his belly, I made it! And my cousin, Alexandra (through marriage, twice removed) but cousin nonetheless, picked me up at the train station which is right below the airport. We took the train to Voorhout, I dropped my stuff off and we headed straight into Amsterdam. Some sight-seeing of random buildings obviously didn’t hold my attention and before long we were heading to a coffee shop…of course. Five minutes later we headed to the outskirts of Amsterdam and met up with Natalie (my other cousin) and her friend Sarah. Ironically we were going to the Goldfish concert. Down a path, through a park and into an opening in the middle of the forest was party central. Dutch bands playing, krokets on rolls – oh the cheesy goodness – and lots of drinks of course! We partied the night away, ‘no matter the weather’ (it was raining) and just had an all round epic time. Chilled Saturday, made a picnic lunch and headed…..you guessed it, AMSTERDAM! For a proper tourist round.

LIQUEUR

This picture really doesnt need a caption

Thats me on the E!

A stop on the pub crawl...or was it?

We started with a coffee shop…yes again, and if you ask me, don’t waste your time with brownies, just order a greencake, or smoke a joint. Next was a hubbly sesh at the Greenlight District, which is a shop, not an area, and then headed for the Bols experience (similar to the Heineken experience). And yes its an experience. It starts with a taster room where you guess the flavour, then you head into a room where you smell every liqueur they have to offer, then there is some boring movie which we skipped and then straight onto the free cocktail and shots, wooo!! Next we headed to burger king…most..amazing…meal…ever. (Note: I am a brownie, 2 shots and a cocktail down by now).  Finally we headed into the red light district for the pub crawl. I wish I could go in depth about this part of the evening but that could get pretty graphic and also….its pretty much a blur. All I know is that it lasted until 5am and we got a free t-shirt. Woke up Sunday morning for (Nat and Alex’s) father’s day breakfast. No questions were asked thank goodness and sunglasses where permitted at the table.  I already started getting withdrawal symptoms on the flight back and realised that I could easily live in Holland but not Amsterdam, that would be too much strain on the liver and wallet, and who knows, maybe that’ll be my next stop  on this journey we call life ;)