Venice.

Back to my soul place for a last visit before returning to Australia. It's a long walk to the hotel but it's a lovely old one and I have a beautiful old fashioned room with a bath. This is the time to be in Venice, it's cheap and quiet.

I have the obligatory Fritto Misto for lunch and wander through the empty back streets to where there's a few gondolas parked, waiting for the tourists. They ask me if I'd like a ride and I say: No, too expensive just for one. One of the men halved the price for me. I couldn't resist. I hadn't been on a gondola ride since I'd been with my late husband almost thirty years ago; I thought to myself that this was probably him arranging this cheap ride from the other side.

The gondolier was such a character, he sat me down, draped a blanket over my knees and then sat beside me, arm around me and got his friend to take a photo of us both. It reminded me of the chicken man in Morocco! He chatted with me as we slid through the canals. He loved his job, his son would follow him. There were only 400 licensed gondoliers in Venice, it's a prestigious job requiring 400 hours of training to be granted a licence, of which only three or four are issued each year. He breaks into song as we glide along, the winter light is magic, everything is in high definition, the colours reflected in the quiet back canals ripple and distort in the wintry light.

When I asked him at the end for a restaurant recommendation, he said the best food could be had at his place and then he winked. Ah, the Italians. As I walked home, the daughter rang and said: Do you remember what day it is? And I suddenly realised it was the anniversary of my husband's death eight years ago. It was definitely him organising it!

I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering, going back to the Libreria Acqua Alta and walking through the squares where only Italians hang out.

And then at 5.30, I end up down by the Grand Canal just in time for sunset. Unbelievably beautiful, the black shiny gondolas tracking out along the waterway, the soft pink and apricot hues, I sat on a step and absorbed it's fragile yet resilient beauty and then found a place for 2.50 euro Spritz!

Then back to a place I'd dined before and the waiter remembered me and gave me a free wine, another sign from the departed husband.

Next morning, I go to find a famous cafe and have their apple donuts that all the Italians seem to be having with a macchiato. Melt in the mouth good, crispy and caramelised on the outside. Wild asparagus soup for lunch, seafood risotto for dinner and then exhausted I walk back home, tomorrow I leave for Auronzo.

Auronzo was covered in snow upon arrival but the next day it's melted! I walk down to the lake to see big turquoise holes in the iced part, it is incredibly beautiful. The air crisp and still. I cook for the sister-in-law and we dine together and I watch her strange German soap operas and hang out. I'm so glad I did as little did I know that would be the last time I saw her.

Dublin, Ireland.

Of ancestry and ghosts.

We arrive from Poland to Modena to pack up the daughter's University year into boxes and take them back to Auronzo. We have a couple of days there, her to say her goodbyes to friends and me to say my goodbyes to a city that has wrapped itself around me with it's class and beauty. I visit my favourite jewellery shop where the owner makes beautiful statement pieces out the back and buy one last piece. I have aperitivo with the girls at our favourite places, a Amarena cherry cocktail winning the award - served in a beautiful Amarena jar; have the best lightest pizza at the best pizzeria, thin and white with prosciutto, walnuts and a balsamic glaze.

And then we drive to the mountains, lunching at an Autostrada (a highway service station that has the best food and supermarket) and we're back in the snowy Alps unpacking and breathing in the iced mountain air and marvelling at the amount of snow that has fallen in our absence.

Since we have the car we go on a day trip to Misurina, the lake that we tried to get to once before and got caught in a snowstorm. They say it's safe to go today and it's worth the trip. We lunch on polenta and funghi and stare out at the snowy scenery, the glassy lake.

A few days later we leave Auronzo amidst disaster. I'm off to Ireland, the daughter to France but the daughter can't find her passport - a nightmare made manifest. It's so unusual as she's so organised this daughter of mine but the moving was stressful. She can't travel without it, even though it's an internal flight. She thinks she may have left it in Modena. We ring around, try to change our flights and then she thinks she might ask a friend to check at the apartment. I shake my head, the odds are so low that she can find a friend and that someone is at the apartment. She finds a friend, there's someone at her old apartment, they find the passport and bring it to her in Venice, a 6 hour round trip! We take this amazing girl out to lunch and are reminded that people are extraordinary. We finally take a deep breath and I head to Dublin, the daughter to Bordeaux.

The grilling at the airport in Dublin was very odd: why are you here, where are you staying, what will you be doing, what are your plans whilst here, do you have friends or family here? Wtf? I finally got out and boarded the bus to Barry's Hotel, an old worldly place of strange odours and slight mould issues, not an Irish accent to be had as most of the staff are from Eastern Europe but the room is fresh and clean.

I go to a recommended pub for the traditional prawns, brown bread and salad and seem to be surrounded by Americans and Italians and big TV screens with sport playing at the same time as an Irish band is belting out songs. I am feeling noise overload and make my escape.

The next day, I don my hat and do the tourist round, walking to Ha'penny bridge and across to where all the old pubs seem to exist.

On my way around, I discover the Nero chain of lovely homely cafes with lounges and good coffee and have a break. Caffeinated, I'm off again.

The pubs here are glorious I have to say, I'm on an early morning pub crawl but without imbibing. Eventually I come across the pub to end all pubs, Mulligan and Haines. I order a beautiful fish dish with celeriac cream from an Irish woman with red hair and admire the scenery; feeling like I'm Oscar Wilde, dropping by for a pint to get some ideas on his latest novel.

In the afternoon, I come across the famous Temple Bar but it is jam packed. I've walked until I can walk no more, it's definitely nap time. Later that evening, I go for another traditional dinner at the famed Beshoff's Fish and Chips. Again, the staff are either South American or European, the food a bit mediocre and I feel that I might need to escape to the countryside so book a tour for the next day.

We bus it through stark wintry countryside, had terrible scones at a stop that the bus takes but the medieval town of Kilkenny is cute. I eat at the oldest pub, Kytelers Inn, 1263. It's got an interesting history. It was run by Dame Alice, who in her lifetime had four wealthy husbands, who mostly died in suspicious circumstances. The last one changed his will on his deathbed, (after his hair and nails started falling out and he became sickly) ,leaving everything to her and his family accused her of witchcraft. Just before she was about to be burnt at the stake, some rich English friends got her into England where she was never heard of again. Her maid was burnt at the stake instead of her. They say her maid's spirit haunts the place.I have the fish cakes and then wander off to find the stunningly revamped Left Bank Pub and bar where I have a Creme Brulee with coconut crumbs which is superb.

Back in Dublin, I find the oldest pub there, 1613, have a NZ wine and chips. But I have to say I'm glad to be moving on tomorrow. Although I am of Irish ancestry on both sides, I'm not connecting here. My daughter came and loved it here but my spirit is essentially Italian. I'm off to Venice tomorrow.

Wroclaw and Warsaw.

The Rebuilding of History.

This is a small but beautiful town, we have a lovely room overlooking a river and we come across a great vegan place close by and lunch on something healthy. The cafes are super cool and trendy.

The main square is beautiful and is surrounded by tiered dolls houses, most of them rebuilt after the war. Beautifully detailed doors, horse and carriages waiting in the square for tourists, bubbles drifting on the cool winter air.

We source a lovely cocktail bar and then move on to Konference restaurant, it has a hidden room where they plotted to overthrow communism. We eat more of the pierogi and other full on heavy winter fare and drink the cheap wine, thinking of how lucky we are that we're not in hiding, fighting for our freedom.

The next day we wander again and in the evening we eat in the main square at Pierogarnia. We sit upstairs admiring the diamond and amethyst of the necklaces of Xmas lights and the twinkling beautiful tree and eat plentiful and delicious Polish food.

And from upstairs we have a great view of the beautiful horse drawn carriages clip clopping around the square.

The daughter has submitted her article to be published and she is free to enjoy the next city of Warsaw. We caught the early train. I've got a cold, pre Covid times when there was little to worry about except feeling a bit off. The station is huge and modern, full of interesting shops. We emerge to a stunning modern landscape and catch a taxi into the old centre. We enter the Aparthotel Sleepwell which is beautifully decorated and the smell of apples and spice hits us with candles aglow.

Lunch at a great Thai place, Thai Me Up. We're beginning to miss Asian food. I wonder out in the afternoon to check out the town, and find a great chocolate shop and have an amazing apple and cinnamon flavoured dark hot chocolate. Later, we find a cute restaurant for spinach crepes where the waitresses are all stunning and dressed in traditional Polish flounced skirts printed with roses.

The next morning we head out to the old town. After WW11, 90% of the historical centre was in ruins and they rebuilt it by 1952 using paintings by Canelleto's nephew. It's very different to the other cities, very distinct architecture. We found a shabby chic cafe for coffee and cake and people watch. It still has a 1950's surreal feel about it.

The souvenir shops are beautiful , we buy presents and memories and we pass mermaids everywhere which seems strange until we look it up. The legend of the Warsaw mermaid is that she originated in the Baltic Sea and she had a twin sister, the more famous Little Mermaid of Copenhagen. The Polish mermaid swam up the Vistula River, saw some fishermen and decided to free the fish caught in the nets. The fishermen were justifiably angry and tried to catch her but she began to sing her siren song and they were all suitably charmed. Not long after, a rich merchant caught her but the fishermen freed her and from then on she promised to protect them. Exhausted we go to the Fall bar for fantastic food, interesting people and cocktails. I had one with cardamon, lavendar vodka, prosecco and passionfruit juice. Highly recommend.

We go to a cool post war famous restaurant for dinner, Kameralna. In the 50's it was a melting pot of artists, literary people, the famous, the infamous and revolutionaries. With the beginnings of capitalism, it closed but has now reopened.

It's very cool, great Polish menu, fantastic staff who fill us in on the history and at the end an obligatory shot of lemon vodka.

Poland, you are so interesting! Until next time.