Ante, born and bred in Split, a Dalmatian city and second largest in Croatia, after Zagreb, the capital, looks forward to another sunny weekend spent in his home town. As usually, he takes his and his wife’s little dog for a morning walk along the coastal promenade towards Marjan, the landmark promontory hill that’s sacred to every Splićanin as residents of Split are called.
They climb several flights of stairs before they reach a walking trail winding through an airy Mediterranean forest all the way to the top. He stops for a minute to take in the view of Split, its harbour and marina below and of the islands out in the blue Adriatic. More times than not he walks the perimeter of the hill but sometimes he turns back when he reaches the westernmost point. Anyway, Ante’s back on the waterfront soon enough to enjoy a cup of coffee on the terrace of one of the many cafes along the beloved Riva, Continue reading “Walking and Jogging Split, Croatia”
“Are you sitting comfortably?” my man asked as I mounted our motorbike upon departure. My day was made with this concern of his over my well being, let alone the fact we were heading to Italy for a summer vacation.
Yeah, I suppose you have every reason to dismiss me with boos and hisses for what on Earth is it in that destination in question, Cote d’Azur, or the French Riviera, as it is refered to in English (although the original name reflects the real thing so much better), right? (right???) except for some ugly beaches, lousy weather, bad food and cheap wine. But bear with me, please. It was MY holiday after all.
First things first: Cote d’Azur, probably France’s finest stretch of coast, is just as good and beautiful as I remember. Maybe even tiny weeny bit better but memory can be, oh, so deceiving. Nah, it is disgustingly fabulous. We shall be returning.
Read much? Don’t find the time? Pity. I love reading. Books especially. I think reading is one of the most precious skills of the human kind. No other living creature we know of has the ability of telling stories, visualising them, writing them down, reading them.
The cliché thing about reading that I find to be most true is it fosters the intensity of thought and stimulates the streams of active thinking.
72 hours of sheer joy it was, wasn’t it, our London break last week. London has always represented the top of the world for me, so yes, I’m biased. Guilty as charged. First time post Brexit, so far all is still good, buzzing, polished and polishing, metropolitan, cosmopolitan, huge, diverse, expensive, welcoming. However, it’s gonna be choppy ahead. For the United Kingdom, for London, for the rest of Europe, for everyone.
Soon, the bricks and mortar of Florence were replaced by gentle hills of rural southern Tuscany. The weather, the food, the wine, the mood – everything mixed and moulded into perfect getaway.
People were picking olives on sunny slopes of olive groves with nets carefully laid under the trees. Every frantoio we passed was busy, the tractors parked at the entrance waiting to unload the crates of precious fruit. Continue reading “Tuscany Revisited, Autumn Continues”