Potholing, Continental Shoe Shopping, a Nazi Regime and a Wet Bottom or 'David Tries Italy Episode Two'

Well I say potholing, what I really mean is climbing St Peter's Basilica.

Anyone who has tried tackling this ridiculously generously proportioned church will know what I mean. To get to the top (since the elevator only takes you halfway) you have to climb a bazillion flights of tight staircases which twist and turn up through the dome. I have advice, if you're in any way claustrophobic, or if you're any fatter than the people who survive on 4 fried eggs from a packet of Haribo and a Wotsit a day from Supersize v Superskinny, stay at the bottom. The view's good but no one wants to get wedged in a basilica. I'll try and post some photos at the end of this blog to communicate the kind of caves more at home in films like 'The Descent', that me and my family were forced to traverse.

And then there was the top, and the view. Now the view was breathtaking, don't get me wrong. It's an interesting fact that the basilica is still the tallest building in Rome, not because of any rule or religious obligation, it just is and no one wants to build anything higher! I like little traditions and peculiarities like that. It is impressive standing looking out across the rooftops of Rome trying to take artistic photographs.

This however I found a challenge. The viewing platform at the top of St Peter's might as well be the Somme, or downtown Baghdad, or any number of frightfully unpleasant places. I mean no one died, which is a plus point for any holiday destination, but up at the top, it's absolute mayhem. The way up isn't controlled at all after the queue where you have to pay €7.50, probably to line old Pope Benni's pockets a bit more, and people are allowed to stay up there as long as they like. So people stay gawping at the view while yet more people come up behind them. And then there's no direction to go around the platform up there. It's round so any sensible person might suggest putting up a sign that says 'walk clockwise please' or 'stop shoving me' or 'these shoes are new, stop stepping on my toes'! In Italian of course. Therefore my experience up at the highest point in Rome was tarnished severely by this lack of organisation.

The Vatican is incredible though, I'd definitely recommend going. It was a recurring theme in Rome, everything's so big! The Vatican, the Pantheon, the Colisseum, wherever you are you constantly find yourself craning your neck to see some more intricate carvings or mosaics on the ceiling, or finding something yet more impressive to sit on the front of your 'my Roman Holiday' facebook album, which reminds me I still need to do. I took 600 photos! My poor iphone got very tired. I'd recommend the camera on the 4S though, I'm really rather proud of some of the photos I took! (see below to see if you agree!) It's a whole new level of amazing to think, when looking at a statue, or a mosaic, how long ago some of these things were made. It's especially mind blowing when you visit places like Pompeii, to look at things and think 'a Roman made that!' And especially amazing to think that these things survived Mount Vesuvius erupting. I'm not sure I agree with the bodies of people who died in the disaster being put on display in glass cases though, it's all a bit sad for my liking. And a bit rude, if I die tomorrow, number one on my list of wishes is to not be put on display in a glass case for tourists to gape at.

One other annoying thing about the otherwise amazing Vatican, was the Sistine Chapel. It's amazing, don't get me wrong (again), but I didn't really enjoy the way you get treated in there. Another interesting titbit of info, is that many moons ago Nikon bought the rights to the Michelangelo paintings on the ceilings and walls, and therefore you're not allowed to take photos. You get led into the chapel, pushed shoulder to shoulder like a herd of sheep, and get incrementally shouted at for so much as sneezing in the direction of a painting. It was all a bit Nazi for my liking! I did very much enjoy my trip to the Vatican though, I feel like all I've done is moan. I urge you to go and do all that's on offer! Take a guided tour though, we'd have got lost if we hadn't been guided round by a chirpy Lithuanian tour guide who looked like Meg Ryan.

So I tried many new things on my Roman Holiday. Where to start I ask myself! First of all, I was confronted on the very first night in our hotel, by a scary looking device which I'm sure unsettles many a holiday goer. A slightly worrying looking bowl-like object which sits in the corner of the bathroom just daring you to have a seat. I of course am talking about the dreaded bidet.

I felt as though I wouldn't have been doing my job as a trier of new things if I didn't give it a go. I'll spare you the details. However during my bidet adventure, many questions arose into my head as to what kind of numpty invented this ridiculous bit of plumbing. Ok how to deal with this delicately. What do you do? Are you meant to sit on the bowl? No thanks I'm not an animal! This leaves the only other option being hovering. Already the sweat was on my brow and to be honest it was adding a whole level of worry and stress to my bathroom experience that I really could have done without.

Then there's the using of the thing which is awkward in itself, then you're done. Now what? You're confronted with a very wet bottom yet you're still fully clothed hovering over a bathroom appliance. This is not where I wanted to be on my first night in Rome. A cleverer man might have seen this coming and brought a towel across the room with him to the bidet. But I was a bidet virgin I didn't know! So all in all not my favourite experience ever. Nobody wants to walk with their trousers around their ankles, it's well known to be the hardest thing anyone has ever had to do! And the wet bottom just added to this. My first failure of trying new things.  It was bound to happen I suppose. Maybe I tried too much too soon? Anyway, I implore you to learn from my mistakes and leave this most peculiar of bathroom fixtures to it's own devices in the corner. When I come to power I'm going to make them illegal I'll say that much.

Apart from this minor setback though Rome was rather good! I plan to return there one day when I'm rich * to the area around a (once again) very big site in Rome called the Spanish Steps. There were so many designer shops that I would just love to stroll into and buy one thing for a million pounds! They even had the watch James Bond wears! An Omega Seamaster (I'm a JB nerd), it's a sexy piece of kit! I urge you to give it a google! It was Price on Application though. A worrying thing to see on a price label. It means you suggest a price and the seller either agrees or disagrees. I very much wanted to suggest €10.50 and a packet of Skittles but I think they might have laughed me out of the country. One day I'll return though! I'm determined! It's like the time I was about 13 and sat in a Ferrari in a supercar garage and the snippy man from upstairs ran down and shooed me from the shop! I will return to that garage and buy a Ferrari one day and I shall laugh in his face with my black American express card. Or some other kind of card with the word 'platinum' in the title, that's always good. For the sort of prices I expect they'll ask for that watch though I'd want it to shoot laser beams and make my tea like James' one does!

One thing I was able to do though which I was very happy about, was buy a new pair of Converse! In Rome! It was in a Foot Locker so I know they're real! But you can't get them here! I can't find them anyway. You probably can, but for now I'm going to say when someone asks where I got my beautiful new Converse, I can reply 'oh Rome' like a rich bastard! I do like the occasional taste of the high life, like when me and Stu decided to opt for the Sainsbury's own brand pasta rather than Sainsbury's basics to treat ourselves. We know how to live!

Continental shoe shopping was tricky though! Another piece of advice on going to Italy is learn some Italian. It should be obvious but I'd really recommend it. It's not like Spain when every man and his dog knows English. Which is fair enough I think! It's rather good really that they haven't succumbed to it because Italian is a rather beautiful language and a future new thing to try will be learning it! I bought two Italian cookbooks to help me with this. So when I translate them and make tasty foods hopefully I'll pick some up.

One last thing, which rounded off my holiday perfectly was on the last day, after power-walking around Pompeii constantly checking the mountain wasn't on fire, and after a starter of mozzerella, tomato and basil and battered seaweed (give it a go, it's wonderful), the waiter said the phrase 'shutuppayourface' to his daughter, and I have honestly never been happier.

I do hope that coin I threw in the fountain of Trevi does indeed bring me back to Rome one day.



Potholing in St Peter's

 The biggest church in the world (must be said in the voice of JC...Jeremy Clarkson not Jesus Christ)

 Oh those sexy Italians...

 My beautiful new Converse

 A rather nice Italian scene (it says Happy Easter on the wall, I thought it was topical)

 One of my favourite pictures from one of Rome's many, many, many fountains

Arrivederchi!


*the method of attaining this level of richness is still a puzzle to me, but I really think it was my life's calling! I'd be so good at it!

P.S. I also tried planking, it's a lot of fun I'd advise giving it a go

Kettlegate and the Taxi of Doom or 'David Tries Italy Episode One'

You might think it strange starting a blog about Italy talking about kettles. Probably a bit rude and uncontinental - oh that’s not a word, it should be! That’s mine, I’ve invented that, hands off! I’m going to be rich!

Anyway kettles. My dad is a huge fan of tea, as am I, and tea is a central part of my family’s lifestyle and I’m quite happy about this. It’s the most British of things a good old cup of tea with a saucer and a jaffa cake, in a mug suitably sized for dunking. I’ve recently discovered there are people who don’t dunk their biscuits in their tea! Isn’t that unconstitutional or something? I know we don’t have a constitution in Britain but if we did, rule number one would be ‘thou shalt dunk thy biscuit’. 

Because of this love of the hottest of tasty beverages however there arose an issue in my household. My dad suddenly became very worried that there would be no kettle in our hotel room. I know, a scary thought for anyone. Therefore, naturally, my wise old father decided that the only logical solution to this problem was to take our home kettle and put it in a suitcase and bring it across europe with us. Of course mum disagreed seeing that with Argos’ extensive range of travel kettles (2), taking a full-sized kitchen appliance cross-continent was stupid. These were not her exact words but this is a family friendly blog! These discussions continued throughout the whole time I returned home from uni until my dad finally relented and was forced to travel to Argos to shell out £14.99 for a travel kettle. The settling argument being mum’s ‘the kettle or me’. A shrewd womanly tactic which won through as I now sit in the rather nice Hotel Petra with the waft of darjeeling finding my nostrils. I did think it was a dangerous one. Words cannot describe how much the man loves tea. He’s like Wallace with cheese, so suffice to say, it was a close shave. *

This, an unlikely, rather humorous episode that can only occur in my family, therefore I’ve devoted the first part of my first Italian adventure to recount this to you. 

So many things I’d like to talk about! I think I’d better start at the beginning with my love for Stansted airport. So many eventful things occurred here! Firstly, (and fittingly) in an optimistic ‘trying new things’ mood, I had baked beans with my all day breakfast! It’s always been a source of annoyance to me (and probably others) that I’ve lived my life bean-phobic. I don’t know why, I think I found the texture strange or something when I was young. But today I tried them and my God they were good. That first forkful of sausage/bean/bacon/mushroom was a delight I wish to repeat and I can see for many years I’ve been foolish. Beans are good, and shall feature in my fried breakfasts from this day forward!

I do like Stansted, it’s set out so well! I always recount (and probably bore) people with my finding it impressive how it separates check-in, passport, control and shops in one big hall. And then there’s the Stansted magic rollercoaster rail thingy! The one that transports you to your gate with views of the runways! It always awakes a childlike joy in me when I get the chance to take a ride in it. I’m a very easily pleased human. My mum however never has a particularly good experience at my favourite airport. Twice her hand luggage was searched for bombs and/or drugs. I’ve never thought my mum looks like a drug pedalling terrorist but airport security clearly think otherwise! Poor mum! She’s lovely really! **

So after two hours of drinking Starbucks and trying on things I can’t afford in the Sunglasses Hut (the  favourite activity of any airport goer) we boarded our plane (me with luxurious foot-space but a worrying emergency door responsibility) and two short Kindle-laden hours later we landed in Roma!

Now to the crux of this blog. Taxi drivers.

An interesting fact I learnt on the Million Pound Drop the other day while me and my friend Jocy relaxed after dinner, was that the word ‘taxi’ is the same in all languages! Well, English, German and apparently Italian anyway. I’m an English student, this puts my nerd radar on red alert and now it’s a favourite fact of mine!

On following the helpful ‘Taxi’ sign in a sea of sexy looking Italian words we found our way into an equally sexy little white Fiat. I’d like to make the point that my dad was too scared to sit in the front with the taxi driver so I had to endure about 15 minutes of British embarrassed silence while having dance music forced into my ears. My dad’s ‘I forgot the passenger goes on that side’ excuse is a tad suspicious don’t you think? I don’t mind, I like being a man, and sitting in the front with the taxi driver on holiday is textbook man-zone. And I don’t usually act the man, I like to use Herbal Essenses ‘Tousle Me Softly’ for instance. And I very much like baking and home interiors. I care not, one day a lucky lady will enjoy soft tousleable hair, tasty cakes and a chic house to enjoy both these things in! So I like being the man at other times, like calling British Gas, and driving without a satnav and sitting with taxi drivers.

This was no ordinary taxi. This was Italy’s answer to Indiana Jones. This was the Taxi of Doom. I noticed on the (thankfully short) trip to the Hotel Petra, that Italian drivers are insane. I hate to stereotype. Alright, the cars I saw, and our taxi driver was insane. He was on his phone, using his opposite hand to change gear, weaving this way and that, complaining in fast Italian at even worse drivers. (I replied with a helpful, agreeable ‘hmmm’ to this) I constantly found myself checking my mirror and stabbing my foot at a brake pedal I didn’t have access to. 

Strangely I found myself thinking ‘So this is what it’s like to have a child’. One day off in the future, I’ll be sitting in an Apple iCar with my young excited child and I feel I’ll go through that experience all over again. Hopefully though my child won’t swear (presumably) in Italian at other drivers and look like Alice Cooper. Thankfully though I am still alive and itching to get out exploring Rome! 

I’m glad I started this blog, I always feel a bit unsettled on the first evening of a holiday. Especially when it’s night. But good old writing, saved the day again! Hope you enjoyed this part one of my Roman holiday! 

Ciao for now!

• I apologise for the in-joke if you haven’t seen Wallace and Gromit: A Close Shave. If you haven’t and you’d like to try a new thing today I’d highly recommend giving this or indeed any Wallace and Gromit a watch.

      ** My mum is actually an extremely lovely human lady whose activities include sending    hilarious texts during football and accompanying me to concerts because of a very cool taste in music!