A DAY IN ‘ANCIENT ROME’ – Temple of Fortuna Primigenia in modern Palestrina (ancient Praeneste), and Tivoli

View Photos with captions: CLICK HERE

At the Temple of Fortuna Primigenia in modern Palestrina (ancient Praeneste - (now a 12th century Renaissance Palace stands on the site))

A DAY IN ‘ANCIENT ROME’ AND VILLA D’ESTE GARDENS IN TIVOLI

After immersing ourselves in Christmas for days, we decide to voyage back into the times ‘before Christ’ with a knowledgeable local guide, and visit the Pagan Temple of Fortuna in Palestrina. It’s located in a dominating position looking out to sea in the foothills of the Apennine Mountain range, about forty kilometres from Rome. It’s good for a change to be driving out in the countryside; with farmsteads, sheep grazing in the fields, vineyards and olives; and seeing that signature Roman ‘umbrella’ pine that dot the landscape.

We do pass an old stone Roman bridge, but on winding up narrow roads to the top of the hill, there’s not too much left of the original Temple buildings in this Sanctuary of the Goddess of Fortuna. However, the massive scale can be easily imagined with the stepped landscaping that follows the natural slope of the hill.

We are seated 'up there amongst the saints' on the balcony overlooking the central window of St Peter's to watch Pope Francis' Christmas Day blessing for the City and for the World called Urbi et Orbi.

Representatives of Brazil, Cuba, Puerto Rico and Australia at Pope Francis' Urbi and Orbi

View our PHOTOS: CLICK HERE

Story to come.

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uck and honour in equal measure!

On Christmas Eve, we are so lucky to have received tickets at the eleventh hour to be seated in St Peter’s Basilica for the Midnight Christmas Mass, presided over by Pope Francis.

Michael, before the giant Christmas Tree in St Peter's Square

Arriving at St Peter’s at 6.30 pm, we join a queue that stretches right around St Peter’s Square, and back, in a double line. The massive doors swing open at 7.30 pm and we see a flood of humanity gushing forth, looking like ants against the massive pillars of the portico of St Peter’s, to find a seat for the Mass (and the best vantage point to see the new Pope).

Incredulously, all 10,000 worshippers find places in the Basilica, the largest church in the world, even if we are seated in the last rows. As Matthew wrote, “So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”, we have prime seats to be in close proximity to the Holy Father both at the Entrance Procession, and again as he carries the baby Jesus to place in the Nativity crib.

Swiss Guards - a palpable air of expectation waiting for the Mass to begin.

Pope Francis, a much shorter man than I imagined, in the Opening Procession

rumpets blare, and a long colourful Procession of Cardinals all clothed in cream vestments enters from right next to where we are standing. There’s a palpable touch of pageantry, but not as much perhaps as much as in the past, with this new Pope preferring more simple celebrations.

To my surprise, Pope Francis is shorter, and perhaps older looking in the flesh.The simplicity of his vestments makes it difficult to distinguish him at first from the others in the Procession.

THIS VIDEO shares but five minutes of the two-hour Mass, music and spectacle, culminating with the Procession to the Nativity Crib with Pope Francis carrying the baby Jesus.

View our Christmas with Pope Francis PHOTOS: CLICK HERE

I’ve arrived at one big New Year’s resolution! And there’s more than a couple of friends whom I know will keep me to it (will try anyway)!

For greater enjoyment of the moment, and with consideration of my continuing good health, there has to be a limit to what I can do in ‘capturing the moments and committing them to blog and Facebook while on the road’. 

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tarting from this very exciting Christmas with friends in Rome, I’m doing less ‘chronicling’. I’m trying to be satisfied just letting the captions tell the story . . . (and I’m already ‘anxious’ about not having a ‘perfect’ pictorial and written record of the trip).

Added to that, you can’t imagine how much internal pressure is on me to ‘make the movie’ using the excellent clips and photos of Pope Francis that I shot at Midnight Mass in St Peter’s, and again from standing up amongst the saints on the wall to the right of the main balcony of St Peter’s with the Pope delivering his Urbi et Orbi Christmas Message to the World.

In St Peter's Basilica - Michael I, Ricardo, Michael M

View Photos from our Visit to the Vatican Museums (It’s not too difficult to see that I liked the paintings in the Raphael Rooms):
CLICK HERE

Other photos from Rome CLICK HERE

n the car driving from Fiumicino to the hotel in Rome late in the afternoon on the day before Christmas . . . (after two long overnight flights from Cape Town via Dubai) . . . I turn on my iPhone.

Hearing the familiar ding, and expecting only the usual telephone welcome from a local company, you can imagine my excitement on receiving news that we have the tickets for Midnight Mass at St Peter’s tomorrow, with Pope Francis officiating. I’d given up on getting tickets long ago. But, American Express Lifestyle has delivered!

There’s but two precious minutes left in the dying battery of my iPhone, and I have to respond before the people with the tickets go home!

Invitations to Christmas Mass at St Peter's with Pope Francis presiding

hen Edmundo receives two calls, one from a South American Embassy advising that they are sending five tickets for Midnight Mass by courier to the hotel.

In this envelope, we also receive Invitations from the Secretary of State of the Vatican

View Photos and captions that elaborate on the story: CLICK HERE

ne of those sunny days in Cape Town that’s ideal for stocking up on shots for future Facebook profiles and the like. And Table Mountain across the sea is not a bad backdrop for ‘posing’.

Valerio and Michael looking back over Table Mountain in Capetown

Our guide from five years ago, calm and ever-helpful Valerio, pulls another rabbit out of the hat, (and also gets a slice of the little animal on his plate at a wonderful lunch), with his choice of ‘Camphors’ Restaurant – just a walk through the beautifully manicured grounds of the 18th century Vergelegen Wine Estate in the Western Cape.

I thought I was past ‘garden tours’, and definitely so in century temperatures. But, today’s visit to Vergelegen is a most enjoyable exception to my own rule. Hydrangeas in bloom make a carpet of blue under the trees as far as the eye can see, and African lily (Agapanthus) in shades of blue and white stand tall in full sun. I ‘m partial to the potager kitchen garden all tidily laid out in hedged, symmetrical beds too.

Entrance to Vergelegen Wine Estate with its 18th century symmetrical plans and ornate gardens.

Artichoke bloom in the hedged potager kitchen garden

Then its time for lunch – ‘Camphors’ is named after huge 300 year-old Camphor Laurel trees in the grounds. (I know camphor laurels. There was a huge one in a neighbour’s property in front of my Bellevue Hill home that cost me $300 to get three branches cut off to let the sun through to my herb garden.)

“The menu reflects a cuisine style that shows simple restraint with complex precision whilst supporting only local producers”, says the Menu. And they’re not wrong. We enjoy a most delicious, innovative, inviting, and surprisingly inexpensive lunch by Aussie standards ($50). I’ll let the photos tell the story.

Strawberry coulis - An unusual addition to the selection of six amuse-bouche at 'Camphors' Restaurant in the Vergelegen Wine Estate

Amuse-bouche - Crisp tapioca and edible flowers and Cod bacalhau balls on creamed pumpkin sauce

Hake and Saldanha Bay Oysters broccoli purée, sprouting broccoli, and almond elderberry butter

able Mountain is outside my window as we lie at anchor waiting for Immigration or the tugboat to come take us to the Passenger Terminal in Cape Town. . It’s the first time I am seeing this so recognizable landmark without fog and clouds.

View Photos: CLICK HERE

Edmundo and Michael at Boschendal Winery with Simonsberg Mountains as a backdrop near Franschhoek, outside Cape Town

oday, it’s off to the Winelands but by-passing Stellenbosch and going on into a nearby valley at Franschhoek. Vines cover hillsides under blue skies in so many wonderful old vineyards established by French Hugenots centuries ago. Our first stop is at Boschendal Winery set with the Simonsberg Mountains as a striking backdrop, and then past fields of lavender and excellent examples of the ‘Cape Dutch’ architecture in the town. (Hopefully, I’ll get some photos when we drive in the other direction tomorrow.)

Tour guide and old friend Valerio has reservations at a couple of places for lunch, and chooses one up the hill, La Petite Ferme, with wonderful views back over the valley. I choose an impressive Chilled Soup of beetroot, strawberries, and ginger but can’t find it in the recipe book at the front counter to get an idea of the ‘balance’ for ingredients. I’ll just have to recreate by trial and error. Or ask Anne or Pam.

Chilled Beetroot, Strawberry and Ginger Soup

Lavender fields in the Franschhoek Valley, outside Cape Town

Chantal takes a liking to us after a gruff maître d’ sits us ‘inside’! Thanks to her, we enjoy the meal ‘outside’ with the best views, and a breeze.

Colourful German-era buildings from early 20th century built upon block rock and desert at Lüderitz

The small town of Lüderitz is wedged between the Namib Desert dunes and the wild Atlantic seaboard. Because of its location, it’s not on many itineraries, but this is our destination today. This sleepy settlement was placed under the protection of Chancellor Bismarck who assumed German control of the whole of South West Africa from the late 19th Century to World War I.

The fishing industry continues to be the main employer here. After yesterday’s surprise finding local Namibian oysters edging out the ‘Sydney Rocks’ for creaminess and flavour, I’m all set to find the best place in town to sample the local crayfish.

Good local beer at the Nest Hotel looking back across to the back of the Lutheran Felsenkirche

But, I am to be disappointed! The local guide on the ship sends me in a taxi to the place she recommends – The Nest Hotel, beautifully situated across the other side of the harbour overlooking the sea.

What a sleepy throw-back to the 50’s. After waiting an hour over a cold Windhoek beer, along come four crayfish – great colour! But that’s where the ‘great’ ends. Compared to the delicate, sweet, South Australian crays, these are tough, overcooked or old. And there’s a strong iodine flavour.

Four local crayfish for lunch at the Nest Hotel - not up to the delicate flavour of our South Australian produce

PHOTOS of Lüderitz: CLICK HERE.

umping, yes, the ship is bumping . . . shuddering and rolling.

For the first time in two weeks at sea, I’m glad to be experiencing some of the rigours (but none of the shipping disasters) of sailing along the infamous Skeleton Coast of South West Namibia.

I wake to see white waves extending from the bow along the whole length of the ship

Looking out on waves sparkling in the sunshine

I wake to see white waves extending from the bow along the whole length of the ship sparkling in the sunshine. Great feeling, sitting propped up against three pillows with my soft-boiled eggs, a pot of tea, and the satellite edition of ‘The Australian’ looking out on this scene.

The small town of Lüderitz is wedged between the Namib Desert dunes and the wild Atlantic seaboard. Because of its location, it’s not on many itineraries, but this is our destination today. This sleepy settlement was placed under the protection of Chancellor Bismarck who assumed German control of the whole of South West Africa from the late 19th Century to World War I.

View Photos of Sailaway Poolside BBQ: CLICK HERE

Creamy Namibia local oysters as good as Sydney Rocks

may have been the suckling pig that first caught my eye, but the purity of form and colour of the local Namibian oysters I saw Chef David shucking at the other end of the pool that got me started. And to add some fleshy Alaskan King Crab legs to my plate made for the start of the incredible feast. No BBQ items in sight for me . . . at this stage!

Poolside Buffet - Alaskan King Crab claws and Prawns catch my attentin

'Stars of Silver Sea' at Sailaway BBQ Poolside - Jemma, Brett, Elizabeth, Zach, Brianne and Jason

View photos: CLICK HERE

orning fog is a good indicator for favourable afternoon flying conditions in southern Namibia”, says the manager of the airline office in Swakospmund as we walk in to pay for our tickets on the Sossusvlei Scenic Flight.

He says that it’s a good sign because fog keeps the sand from blowing over the Great Namib Desert and spoiling the view of the red dunes and other surreal landscapes from the air.

The infamous 'Eduard Bohlen' coaster stranded in 1909 on the Skeleton Coast

The red dunes of Sossusvlei

hy West Africa?

Nearly two thirds of the days on this 18-day cruise on ‘Silver Wind’ from Las Palmas to Cape Town are spent ‘at sea’, simply sailing, and that’s the whole attraction.

In hindsight, I’d repeat the experience, but not for the ports included on the itinerary. They are by and large – forgettable! Maybe a trans-Pacific cruise in the future would give me plenty of ‘sea days’?

Bow of Silver Wind at port in Praia, Cape Verde Islands - Only 170 passengers on board

The big surprise in ports has been the Cape Verde Islands, about 300miles off the bulge of West Africa in the Atlantic. I had high hopes for Dakar in Senegal that weren’t realised, and other than being able to say “When I was in Ghana”, that visit to Takoradi was simply a lost day.

High hopes for Namibia tomorrow though

Life on board . . .  to come

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iew Photos – CLICK HERE

Softly as in a morning sunrise

aven’t a clue what day it is!” Oh what a feeling!

The sound of cutting through calm seas is soothing whether propped up on two soft pillows in the cabin or stretched out on a towel with a book reclining in the shade on deck. And, a pot of tea or a cool drink is only a lift of the finger away.

Position of the sun gives me a clue as to the time of day. However, in these waters off the West Coast of Africa, the loss of satellite signal for cable News channels takes away any clue as to the day of the week.

If the Ship’s Bulletin lists the Rabbi’s gathering, so then it must be Friday; and when stock prices are not listed, it must be the weekend. But trying to recall if either was the previous day or two days ago is futile.

Imagine. When I find one of the enrichment lectures by a conservationist, who talks of his traipsing all over the Gobi Desert in search of a threatened specie of camel, so interesting, it must serve as some indication that I’ve reached a plateau of contentment.

All I need to do now is throw the laptop overboard.

s soon as the Ghana authorities have cleared the vessel in the port of Takoradi, the very notion of women dressed in African costumes, with bowls of fruit or fish on their heads has me on the first shuttle bus from the ship into town with camera at the ready.

I have this vision of straight-backed women walking through aisles of colourful local produce, yellow bananas and red tomatoes overflowing from tables in the Market just waiting me to come and seek permission to snap away.

So far from the truth!

Takoradi, Ghana's fourth city

akoradi is the largest port but a small city in hot steamy tropics of the southern coast of Ghana (Gold Coast in British Colonial times). Tourism is obviously way down the bottom of the list of exports.

I’m up early for breakfast on the aft deck to watch the ship berth, and yes, I do go into Takoradi on the first shuttle bus expecting to be dazzled by the colours of the famed Market Circle.

Maybe I was too early, but as I pick my way over broken footpaths outside dilapidated buildings, and gingerly negotiate open drains choked with plastic, blasting music assaults my ears. All I see is lots of dried fish being stacked on trays by not so friendly locals, and a few baskets of tomatoes and piles of hulled coconuts and huge yams. I get into trouble for photographing a pile of oranges smelling in the heat on the footpath. “Permission!” One lady screams as she appears from nowhere as if brandishing a machete, and I my make a quick retreat back to the shuttle bus.

Children in school uniforms look fresh, and again, it’s the ladies who seem more industrious than the men. Unfortunately, unlike the very elegant and proud Creole women in the Cape Verde Islands, these poor souls look beaten. Perhaps the men are away working on the oilrigs or in the manganese mines, but the ones I see here are sweaty layabouts.

enturing out again later in the morning, Edmundo and I pick up a local taxi driven by a smiling Adam, who has just returned home to Ghana after being deported from Italy as an illegal immigrant. He drives us to the next town of Sekondi to see the fishing harbour, and the total ruins of British colonial buildings from a century ago. The scene at the docks is reminiscent of ‘storming the barricades’ as masses of humanity clamber aboard fishing trawlers with women balancing large bowls on their heads or with babies tied to their backs to get to the catch.

Fishing Harbour in Sekondi - As close as I could get to the fishing boats before the policeman stopped me

Wonderful for photos, but a small sweaty policeman in crisp uniform stops me, officiously warning with trumped-up importance that it’s an offence.

Back to the taxi to find Adam with his head under the bonnet, stripping cables and twisting wires together trying to get the car started. And we have less than an hour to before the ship sets sail for Namibia!

Edmundo keeps his cool, but I fear he’s silently conjuring up how he’ll eventually tell this story of a shore trip that he didn’t want to make in the first place.

Anglican Church from colonial times that has been kept in some order, in Sekondi

View Photos CLICK HERE

akar in Senegal, aspiring to modernity, but these new beginnings sprout from dirt and litter of third world chaos. Of course, we drive past an impressive Presidential Palace left from French Colonial times, embassies in tree-lined streets and overlooking the sea, Catholic churches and mosques, but there’s no hiding the ravages of underdevelopment that we encounter in a few hours.

Guard at Presidential Palace in Dakar, Senegal

lighting from the bus to visit a market under the trees by the sea, my nostrils are accosted by a smell so putrid, I can hardly breathe. With Edmundo telling me to be quiet as I sound like a tourist, I take a proffered handwipe cloth and cover my nose. The local guide dismisses the odour as ‘fishmarkets’ but it can only be sewers. And the beach nearby is piled with hundreds of fishing boats. A public health hazard surely!

Monument de la Renaissance Africaine - a 49m tall bronze statue located on top of one of the twin hills known as Collines des Mamelles, outside of Dakar, Senegal. It is the tallest in the world

Michael and Edmundo - The colour of Africa reflected in an urban mural outside the market, by the sea in Dakar, Senegal

View Photos. CLICK HERE

raia, the capital of Santiago Island in the Cape Verde group is a city with a pulse, compared to Santo Antão that can boast of stunning beauty with its peaks, valleys, volcano and rugged coastline.

The colonial town centre of Praia is on a plateau with colourful ancient buildings and monuments attesting to the Portuguese past, but today the Creole population and lifestyle is more akin to that of West Africa. Women carry everything from vegetables to fruit and fish on their heads, and witnessing this colourful local custom adds special attraction to our visit to the Municipal Markets in the centre of town.

Street band entertains as we hit the main square

Straight backs!

e seem to be speeding towards the coast of West Africa, or perhaps I’m speeding up with the excitement of getting to our first port of call there, Dakar in Senegal, for a just a few hours tomorrow afternoon. As the time is so short ashore, Edmundo and I relented, and bought another ‘tour’ to have the best chance of seeing the main sights. If that German woman, who coughs and doesn’t cover her mouth comes anywhere near us in the confines of the minibus , it will be I who crowns her.

View Photos CLICK HERE

A day of dramatic peaks, valleys and volcano, ending up with fresh fish right from the fishermen’s boats that come in through the surf to sell their catch on the sand outside the restaurant for lunch.

A hand of cards at a young age on Santo Antão in the Cape Verde Islands

Schoolchild in Ponta de Sol on Santo Antão

View Photos – CLICK HERE.

ere at the Salobre Sheraton Resort on Gran Canaria, a man-made green golf spot in what appears to be a barren volcanic landscape, where the only plant life seems to be Canary Island palms – surprising? And in this notoriously dry Spanish island in the Atlantic, it has to be bucketing down rain when we visit.

Silver Wind at anchor at our first port of call, Porto Novo on Santo Antão in the Cape Verde Islands (300 miles off the West coast of Africa)

We board the ‘Silver Wind’ at lunch time and then have two days at sea before our first ports of call in the Cape Verde islands; Porto Novo on Santo Antão, and then Praia on Isla de Santiago. Dakar Senegal the next day is the first port in Africa. Going ashore on three days in a row – oh well!

But then I have three more days at sea before Takoradi in Ghana. I’ll know a lot more about the history of the slave trade, greed and human misery after visits to these West African centres. I’d always imagined that it was the Americans who started this inhumane transportation, but I’m already learning that European powers did battle for supremacy in the seaports along the West African coast and in the Cape Verde Islands from as early as the 15th century to get the upper hand. Stronger African tribal chiefs also profiteered by capturing people from weaker communities and selling them to the Europeans.

I can dwell on this sailing on down the coast for four more lazy sea days before hitting Namibia with the Skeleton Coast and high sand hills, and finally, Cape Town in South Africa.

All at sea

More photos to follow when internet speed improves

Click here to view photos.

Michael literally 'skating on thin ice' at the 15 C Carthusian Monastery of Certosa di Pavia

About an hour’s drive from Milan this 15th century Monastery that used to house a cloistered monastic order of Carthusian monks rises from the fog to greet us in the early morning. We are in time for Mass in one of the smaller decorated chapels.

Later a monk from Eritrea walks us through the snow-covered cloisters into the locked Holy of Holies in the main Basilica, which shares the same architect as the Cathedral of Milan. Stained glass, and ceilings coloured blue with powdered lapis lazuli are but small first things that grab the eye as we enter this cavernous structure, an example of Renaissance architecture.

The sun is starting to break through as we get to the Sunday Markets in the university town of Pavia. Tastes of local salami and cheeses at the stalls has me ready for good antipasti for lunch.

But it’s seafood that I settle on. Fishermen friends of the owners of the trattoria make a stop here in Pavia every morning on their way to the Fish Markets in Milan to deliver them the freshest seafood, straight from the seas around Puglia. Homemade Scialatielli alla Pescatora is my pasta dish, leaving barely sufficient appetite for the grilled scampi. I miss the extra garlic and a touch of chilli that I’m now accustomed to with Walter at La Vecchia Cucina in Sydney. A jug of local Puglia white wine, so light and frizzante tops off the simple meal.

In the afternoon, a visit to a Monet Exhibition in the 14th century Castlello Visconteo in Pavia completes a perfect winter’s Sunday. I learn from Monet . . .

First day of Summer in Australia, but very much my first day of Winter here in Italy.

Love that smell of the cold as I emerge into the aerobridge at Malpensa Airport. But very soon, it’s the feeling of creeping cold seeping through to my bones in the Airport car park that has me rummaging in my luggage to retrieve my good old NZ possum and merino jacket.

Driving into Milan as the early morning grey becomes steelier and more sinister, the only light becomes the occasional flashing yellow sign ‘Neve’, a warning of snow for motorists. Doesn’t take long for the rain to change to sticky little patches of white splattering the windows.

All precipitation has stopped by the time I wake and step out to dinner in an authentic little Sicilian trattoria on Via Savona. The simple cuisine of Sicily has a sweetness rather than spice. I can leave the spleen tasting like fattier aerated slices of fried liver, but enjoy the slices of raw tuna and swordfish, smoked instead of the sashimi that I’m accustomed to. Home made pasta with squid is a pretty tasteless affair, simply filling. Crushed almonds in with the breadcrumbs on a breaded veal cutlet with a squeeze of lemon and a sprinkle of salt, makes for a plain but wonderful main meal.

And so back to the Principe di Savoia Hotel for a good night’s rest.