“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.
Check.


When the sun is setting, between dusk and darkness, there is a moment when the light turns blue. And the world stops for a heartbeat.
“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.
Check.


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.

Holiday. Rome.
Due to my connection in Zurich, the flight took me over the Alps. A majestic sight from any angle.
I’m cheating here a little again. I only saw the Alps on Saturday morning… However, as I started to travel on Friday, I think it still counts as the same day.

Unlike Venice or even Paris, Rome has the feel of everyday life everywhere. Even in the most touristy center, tucked in the narrow lane between two monuments is someone’s laundry drying from the window, and someone’s grandmother keeping a careful eye of the comings and goings on her street. The pulse of real Rome.

Note the grandmother of the street on the right…
People of Mpumalanga don’t suffer from undue modesty – or how else do you explain a place called ‘God’s Window’. But I have to admit, the views are phenomenal. Along the winding mountain roads are little villages with crafts, great restaurant, whisky and – naturally – curios to all tastes.
One of the places we visited was Pilgrim’s Rest – a little village with number of houses restored to their ‘previous glory’. My favourite spot is the old BP Garage and it’s famous car that has been left to ‘Rust in Peace’.
Sunday was cold. Because we were travelling with Merlin, restaurants did not let us inside, so brunch was a chilly – if tasty – affair. However, a walk to a Bridal Veil waterfall warmed us right up – and made both Merlin and myself comfortably snoozy for the drive back home. Luckily, Stuart is made of stronger stuff.