Stuart and I have always loved road tripping. We’ve done a few epic trips – most memorably an 5-week drive across the USA, an 8-week trip across Northern Europe, and a few different 2-3 week trips in Mid-and South Europe… There is nothing better than a holiday with a car and no plans. We split the driving equally with Stuart doing the driving during the day, and me driving back to the hotel from the restaurant. Even without reservations, we have always found a place to sleep eventually.
With no opportunity for a proper road trip at the moment, hopping into a car and driving to a secluded new restaurant somewhere in the vicinity is definitely a good way ro rewind on a Sunday.
I think any relationship needs mini-vacations. Stuart and I try to take a regular day somewhere new – preferably out of the city. In fact, we decided this year to do 24 ‘new’ things to keep exploring Joburg and surroundings. (Although, I admit we have already lost count…)
Anyway – today’s excursion was to Hartbeespoort dam, more specifically to a ‘live-movie set’ called Pretville. It was the film set for an Afrikaans film of the same name – a musical set in the 50s. They have preserved the film set for an attraction and a setting for events.
As I have never really been that into Afrikaans music or movies, most of the plot escaped me. But it did make some great photos of 50s cars.
It does say something about Stuart’s patience that he is still keen on going to these outing with me, knowing a lot of the time will be spent on finding the right camera angles…
Today’s photo is not the best of the day. (My last day in Rome…). In fact, it was (and still is) a bad photo in many ways – overexposed, badly framed and lots of ‘noise’ in the picture (The cars really bother me). I am still not sure why I kept editing it over and over again, and trying to make it work. Something in it just spoke to me.
It’s still not the greatest of photos. But the story it tells is a story so very typical to Rome.
History of the Vatican is not a religios or harmonious one. It’s all about power. The level of dirty politics during e.g. Borgias exceeds almost any other stage in human history (I leave the word ‘almost’ to prevent Stuart proving me wrong in the next minute).
With that as a backdrop, and tourist milling around, the sense of calm is surprising.
I love the concept of a siesta – when I’m on holiday. How anyone can work with a siesta breaking the day in two, is completely beyond me. But on holiday, the break at midday is the ultimate luxury. As an additional benefit, there is no better time for photography than very, very early in the morning.
Roman Forum in sunrise.
I apologise for a delay in posting. Ever since the plane touched down back in Johannesburg, I’ve been run off my feet.
“The perfect day is a balance of culture and pleasure”, repeated our travel guide for the 4th time as we boarded the bus in Pompeii and headed towards the Amalfi coast.
In one aspect my trip to Rome has been a bit of a disappointment: I wanted to practise my people photography skills and maybe do some street photography. However, my patience ran out quickly. It is practically impossible to take a picture involving people, without everyone being glued into their phones, either taking photos or messaging – and this includes the nuns(!) Only today, as I strolled quite far from the tourist area into a local park, was my fate in humanity restored.
I like to think of myself as someone who does not like shopping. And I don’t. At least not the kind that requires me to systematically go through store after store. But who can resist the allure of an unexpected find – The I-don’t-want-to-resist item in a little store in a back-alley you are unlikely to ever return.
I’m an accidental shopper.
It’s easy to find good food in Rome – as long as you avoid the biggest tourist centers. It’s much harder to find good food that is not Pasta Carbonara, Pizza Margarita or Veal Saltimbocca.
Local tasting menu celebrated ingredients from close by – an experience worth every kilo gained.
Fried artichoke is a specialty of the Jewish Ghetto.