Roma, La Citta Eterna

Roma, non basta una vita! A lifetime is not long enough for Rome … but we definitely packed a lifetime worth of memories and experiences in the dreamy week we spent there, in a hotel right around the corner from the spectacular Trevi Fountain.

Surviving the challenge of handing Luigi back at Leonardo da Vinci airport and taking a shuttle into the city, we arrived on a steamy Sunday and both the temperature and our love of this Eternal City just kept rising from there.

The Spanish Steps, the Coliseum, the Island of Tiber, the Vaticano, Piazza Barberini, Piazza Venezia and Circus Maximus and so much more. We lazily made our way through the cafes and gelati shops of Trastevere, and took in the charm of relatively unknown spots like the suburb of Monti. We sat in ristoranti near the Parliament and watched politicians and protests come and go. Each area of this city takes your breath away with its juxtaposition of places made famous by romantic ‘dolce vita’ era films against ancient Roman ruins exuding power and greatness even today. Modern and the ancient past live and breathe today side by side in Rome, and the pizzazz and personality of its locals give the city such flair.

Some special moments here included taking an evening stroll to the gorgeous Piazza Narvonna to find Bellini’s magnificent fountains lit up with bright colours and smoke machines, with the shards of light dancing to the sound of Italian opera. Every night in Rome during the time we were there, end of August, was packed fill with incredible and mostly free events and performances. We caught the end of an opera and dance performance on the Spanish Steps, just in time to view the incredible fireworks display here which celebrated the Italian holiday of Ferragusto or Assumption Day. We spent an evening at the outdoor cinema festival, which took place along the sides of the river, watching Italian films under the stars and enjoyed the bars and nightclubs along the banks which had relocated here from the city centre for the summer. Shabbat was spent under the shade of the trees lining Villa Borghese, and we saw our week in Roma end by standing on the steps near Via Popolo and watching the pink and purple hues of sunset rise above the roofs, domes and monuments of this city.

I particularly loved the Pantheon, such an ancient building that still remains a marvel of engineering and ingenuity today. The resting place of famous artist raphael, the Pantheon has so many layers of history - Roman, Christian and modern Italian. We also spent time in the Jewish area of Rome, with its beautiful synagogue and chequered history.

One of the amazing moments Gary and I shared in Roma was sitting together on the pavement along one of the avenues cutting through Villa Borghese's gardens, cheering on the local inline skating crew and their Saturday tricks and performances. A motley crew if there ever was one, the young teens flaunted their strength by jumping over beacons and twirling between the cones to the blaring sound of dance music, whilst the older men skated under ropes precariously balanced just above the street itself. The showmanship, camaraderie and competition between these old and new friends was quite something. What a wonderful hobby and a quite touching spectacle to watch!

Napoli

You cannot help but feel alive in Napoli – the traffic, the noise, the garbage, the energy. You either love it or hate it, and we absolutely loved it! One of the world’s most misunderstood places, we had been warned to brace ourselves before our visit and I must say that I was completely charmed by it all. From the derelict churches and monuments, all spray painted and burnt out with vegetation growing from its roofs, to the dirty and winding alleys with colourful washing lines strung up above, Naples is infectious.

Of course, we loved the day we took a leisurely drive along the Amalfi coast, unable to take our eyes off the gorgeous towns and villages along its cliffs such as Sorrento, Positano and Amalfi. We sampled the roadside ‘granita’ stands with their limone wares of the most delicious fresh lemon ices. We went into the mountains and found the art and music oasis of Ravella, and spent a very hot but very very interesting day wandering the ruins of Pompeii with our trusty audio guides. But it is Napoli that for me deserved its own post.

Of all the quirky and amazing things that happened there, one story stands out for us. On a mission to track down what we had been told was the best pizza place in the whole city, an obvious must do in the birthplace of pizza, we found ourselves standing outside a very closed pizzeria shut down for the August holidays. As we were contemplating our next move, determined to watch someone stick a pizza margarita in an oven, a very elegantly dressed woman marched up to us and said with great authority, ‘Come with me, I’ll show you were the locals go’. With no arguments, especially after we found out she was Sicilian, she grabbed Gary by the arm and next thing we knew we were following her and her friend and their oversized designer shopping bags down alley after alley in search of the perfect pizza.

Just at the point where I started imagining that we were going to be the next storyline on an episode of ‘Banged Up Abroad’, we were led around the corner and confronted with a massive crowd of people pouring out onto the street in front of a traditional pizzeria and fritteria. This was a people watching opportunity with no equivalent, and we spent ages there gawking at the crowds queuing for croquettes, pizza and all sorts of other fired goodies, the dynamics at the pizzeria itself and the speed, agility and skill with which the margaritas were made. The smell alone was heaven itself!

And what to say of the Neapolitan? The people here have a unique attitude and stride which can only be called 'swagger'. The tight white t-shirts and very short skirts, the tanned and toned bodies with record amounts of gelled hair and thick eyeliner. Distinctive, passionate, absolutely crazy drivers ... Gary and I fit right in!

Amalfi

Amalfi, Amalfi, Amalfi. Rocky, raw, expansive – unruly vineyards and fishing villages of terracotta hues. A truly stunning part of the world that has no comparison.

… and the hairiest drive of my life. I took hold of Luigi as we departed Pulicaro and headed towards Napoli and the Amalfi coast. Besides for being scammed out of our money by a ‘helpful’ crook standing at one of the many tollgates (you know, as you do), the route had been relatively uneventful until we hit the outskirts of Naples. Trying to negotiate the uneven and ‘under construction’ highway flanked by Valentino Rossi on my left and with taunting orange beacons on my right, attempting to respect the temporary speed limit of 60kph (when everyone else was doing 130 plus!) was enough to bring happy hour half a day forward. Or so I thought, until I realized quite how extreme things could get as we passed Naples and got onto the coastal Amalfi road suspended between the mountains and the sea. In this world, lanes are ignored, overtaking into oncoming traffic to edge just one car ahead is the norm and hooting and rude hand gestures is encouraged. This gives new meaning to the words ‘road rage’ folks.

Now don’t get me wrong, our GPS had been a lifeline on more than one occasion during this trip and Chiara, with her nasal Italian accent, was paying her way on the journey. But good old TomTom doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to the backstreets of this part of the world. Unable to recognize the difference between streets and teeny tiny Vespa pathways, following Chiara can lead one to a fair amount of peril. And so it was that we passed by a sign, at some speed I might add, which had some curious red numbers on it and that we later understood indicated the maximum width of the upcoming road. Well we were a bit late on that lesson and soon found ourselves down an alley which was so tight that even the turned in wing-mirrors were being engraved by the stone walls on either side. With no chance of reversing back through the winding maze, I had no option but to keep moving forward and hope to the heavens that at some point we would find a driveway or exit or even a POSTAGE STAMP to at least turn the car around. As my claustrophobia began to rear its ugly head, Gary managed to exit the vehicle through the window and catch the attention of a man sitting on the top of one of these stone walls (What the dickens he was doing on the wall we will never know. Perhaps it’s a local sport, watching ridiculous tourists abandon rental cars in bicycle alleys? Who cares why, I have never been so grateful in all my life!) After laughing at our predicament and mimicking a scooter for some time, he kindly offered to open his gate and let us turn around in his garden. Just in the nick of time, as I had now all but suspended the entire car in the middle of this paper thin street. Reversing in front of this delightful gentleman’s entire family having their Sunday lunch, we handed out some SA key rings as a gesture of goodwill and rode the clutch all the way to our agritourismo.

Now this family-owned agritourismo, ladies and gentlemen, was unlike no other. A bright yellow little house from the 1800s perched directly on the corner of a turning blind rise, with its little farm of tomato plants and vineyards (and the cow, which later kept the entire neighbourhood awake due to being in heat for two days – who even knew cows did that?) spilling out haphazardly down the hill. With billowing smoke and the overpowering fumes of our burning clutch signalling our arrival, a worried son and manager Salvatore rushed out to greet us. Strapping Salvatore, and his slightly more robust brother Angelo who was the cook, were both ginger-haired and the splitting image not only of each other but also, strangely enough, of the hand-painted ceramic angels above our bed. Kinda creepy, but cute.

These two young guys run the agritourismo in the most sincere and charming way, along with the rest of their family who each have a role in the running of the restored house. Being the English speakers, we got to chat and get to know Angelo and Sal, who took to sitting with us each day at the end of our breakfast to help us plan the day’s adventure. On Friday evening they even cooked a homemade Italian dinner for the guests, complete with their farm’s limoncello, marmalade and pastries. Sitting with Gary having a drink on their veranda under the grapes of the ripe vines above, with a stunning view of the sun setting over the Amalfi coast, was a very special memory. However, even this perfect moment in time was not without the quirks we’d come to expect from our agritourismo, as the vapours of the neighbour’s clutch in reverse were only just overpowered by the burning of the electric fly trap and drunken guests at the party next door swiftly rammed their car into the wall of the agritourismo.

Never a dull moment. NOW its a party!

Lazy in Lazio

Meeting Marco and Chiara for the first time was like being reunited with old friends. This young city couple exchanged the hustle and bustle of Roma and Milano for the peace and beauty of the country. Having converted an old sprawling farmhouse on their working farm (which produces everything from milk, eggs, jams and breads to homemade wine) into a lovely agritourismo with a handful of small ‘rooms’ or little apartments, they have managed to create an experience which truly feels like you’re living with an Italian family for a few nights. From the old wooden cabinets and worn rugs to the communal wood fire oven with its smoky scent every evening, Pulicaro was a surprisingly authentic experience.

We stayed in Lazio as our stop between Umbria and Amalfi, and adopted the little nearby town as our own – complete with our favourite supermercato and a series of crazy landmarks for navigational purposes. We spent a fantastic and lazy Shabbat with a cheese and antipasti picnic under a large canopy tree in the agritourismo’s garden and toured the surrounding area, even visiting an incredible historic village that is under threat of literally falling off the side of a cliff. This hanging wonder on a corroding hilltop in the middle of a ravine was something neither of us had ever seen before! Sunday night dinner was also a special treat and Marco and Chiara cooked an entirely homemade Italian feast with all the guests sitting down together with them at their dining room table to enjoy. During the meal we got chatting to the young Swiss and Lithuanian varsity students who had been staying on the farm as part of a working holiday - their perspectives on life in Italy and their home countries, and the future of the youth Europe, was fascinating.

During our time in Lazio, we celebrated an exceptional milestone – our first year anniversary! We both took time the evening before to write each other letters and poems and Gary painted, and the next day he organized for us to go to the natural thermal springs in the mountains close to Pulicaro. We spent the day bathing in the healing and refreshing waters and soaking up the rejuvenating air of this distinctive place.

Taking the time to read, write, just sit together and have long and passionate conversations, surrounded by the simple natural beauty of Italian farmland, was slow living at its best. The only thing better was Gary’s home-cooked pasta in our little apartment …

Pace e bene - Assisi

After leaving Cecilia’s farm outside Greve-in-Chianti, we spent a night outside the Tuscan village of Castellina and then headed south towards one of my favourite places on earth – the home of St Francesco, or St Francis, Assisi. This oasis of inclusive spirituality truly lives up to its name as the ‘city of peace’. Assisi attracts people of all religions, ethnicities and creeds and brings them together in this UNESCO World Heritage Site on the ancient hill of mystical Mount Subito.

The image of this town which always comes to mind for me is turning down a cobbled stone pathway, pink bougainvillea tumbling out of the apartment windows above, and walking into the billowing robes of a group of sandaled-Franciscan monks hurrying to one of the historic churches. The haunting echo of church bells and the sound of chanting fill the heavens here, and a respect for the holiness of this area an d each other seems to really have an effect on visitors to the town.

With only GPS coordinates to guide us and getting completely lost on the way there, we thought we found our accommodation when we staggered across an old and eccentric abandoned manor house. Thankfully, the broken windows and doors hanging off their hinges was not destined to be our accommodation. We stayed in a truly special agritrourismo, which consisted of a group of ancient buildings on the sole hillock of the flat plain which extends between Assisi and Perugia, two historically powerful and competing towns. This hillock, located as it is by the foot of Mount Subito, was used by the Assisi army as a defensive base for many of their conflicts with the Perugi and the agritourismo is made up of the look-out tower and storage house from the 1100s, and with barracks from 1200s converted into the main house. Gary and I stayed in the historic barn (yes yes, very apt I know). It was fantastic to have such a remarkable base from which to explore this area for three nights, and we really made ourselves feel at home. From spending time in the still and sun-speckled forests and mountain sanctuary on Mount Subito where St Francis and his Franciscan monks meditated on nature and G-d to just picking a dusty country road and following it into the hills (which happened to be a pilgrimage route that St Francis took from Assisi to Gubbio), we savoured and rejoiced in every second.

As I’ve mentioned before, a big part of the agritourismo experience is partaking in the local produce from the farm itself or the surrounding community, and with a vineyard and wine shop right down the road form where we were staying, we had to take a look. SAIO has vineyards across the plains and right up to the foothills of Assisi, and we were lucky enough to have a private olive oil tasting there with one of the sisters running the estate and shop.

We really soaked up the days here, basking in a warm calm that the rich and spiritual air seemed to permeate everything with. The history, the transcendent air and the delicious delicacies all worked their magic on us and it was very very hard to drive away … but Lazio beckoned.

Under the Toscana sun

So we pick up the tales of our travels from the Sunday we left Firenze, piling into the fully extended boot of Luigi (have I mentioned how we secured this delight of a vehicle? A 2 door microwave on wheels had been brought to us in the Europcar lot of Venice’s Marco Polo airport. It didn’t even take three blinks of Gary’s doe-eyes before we had talked our way into a free upgrade which could actually hold us AND all our luggage. An essential) and hitting the Italian highways to head into the heartland.

It was here that we stumbled across the five most useful syllables ever created – Agritourismo.

Mostly family owned and run B&Bs which are a combination of a historic restored (sometimes) home and a working farm, these little gems are scattered across the Italian countryside and provide a unique, memorable and authentic lodging experience for any traveller. Most Agritourismo are off the beaten track (literally, on dusty white roads over hill and dale) and produce many of their own local goods which are on sale to the guests (everything from honey and marmalade to cheeses, milk, fresh fruit and veg and even limoncello).

Our first foray into the Agritourismo world was in Greve-in-Chianti, a gorgeous Tuscana town in the Florence surrounds. From here we planned to find two or three spots in the country to stay at for at least a few nights each, the first one being in Tuscany of course, before our deadline of handing the hire car back in Rome a few weeks later. Granted our first day of ‘slow living’ got off to a slightly stressed start as the sun began to set on Sunday afternoon and we still hadn’t found a place to stay. Leaving the town square armed with the lengthy list of farmhouses in the area, but with no idea of their availability, we veered off into the hills and fortuitously found the wonderful farm of Cecilia with her two cute dogs Rocky and Luna.

This farm was everything from a Hollywood produced movie on Tuscany and more. Creaky old gates covered in ivy set against crumbling stone walls. The warm sun illuminating views of tumbling hills and vineyards as far as the eye could see. The smell of the garden’s ripe tomatoes wafting into the beautiful cottage where we were to stay, with lace lined windows and worn shutters. Overstuffed and embroidered bed linen on an enormous wrought iron framed bed and a vintage chest of drawers beside it. A gorgeous fireplace and even homemade sherry by the bed. Cecilia welcomed us with open arms and a kiss, introducing us to the dogs and showing us to our rooms after inviting us to help ourselves to the veggies in her garden. Stunning!

After putting our things down we headed down the little valley to the hilltop village across from Cecilia’s farm – an entirely walled stone hamlet that seemed to me to be a time travelling portal into the early parts of last century. Drinks overlooking the fiery sun casting dusty hues on the horizon were the perfect end to a wonderful day.

Musings on super glue

It was during a conversation about our latest lifestyle philosophy (day drinking as a way of life, for those of you who were wondering) that we discovered that my darling husband had super glued his Nokia cellphone together so that it no longer slides open to reveal the QWERTY keyboard underneath.

It’s a fascination with superglue the likes of which I haven’t seen since my Dad.

I simply cannot tell you how many backstreet alleys across Europe we have walked down in search of this cohesive substance. Gary ordered it as a special delivery to the local Spar in Villefranhce and promptly glued his own fingers together. This current mishap, however, is not something I can fix with hot water and a nail file ...

Our 'Slow Living' Philosophy

Europe is a trap, a siren calling you towards her from the shores. There is more to see and do and experience here than can ever be done in one three month long meander. And yet the beauty, mystery and allure of this place and its people pulls you in with every step and makes you attempt to experience it all nonetheless.

During the time we spent across France we really put in a solid effort, packing in as much sight-seeing, museum-traipsing and city-hopping as was physically possible. Don’t get me wrong, we also had plenty of time to truly savour the moment and appreciate every day, but following a week of training through Switzerland we decided that we needed more opportunities for quiet contemplation of life and our place in it.

Italy was the perfect place to slow down the pace, put the guidebooks to one side and simply live la dolce vita. And the sweet life it has truly been … waking up not to alarm clocks but the sound of a farm stirring to life, letting lunches linger for an hour or two (like the locals here do even in the big cities) and taking time to really converse with the people around us and adopt our own little grocery, café etc. It was about turning our focus away from the destinations and towards the journeys each day brought.

We are currently so astute at slow living that most of the time our efforts cannot be easily distinguished from sleeping, and we have regularly found ourselves in states of such severe relaxation and oneness with the universe that one of us had checked the other’s pulse. Joking aside, slow living is not about doing nothing and needs to be spiced with fun, crazy, memorable moments and we have been blessed with many of these too.

The next few blog posts will do their best to give you a glimpse into the last two weeks of slow living across the countryside of Tuscany, Umbria, Lazio and Campania.

Embracing a detour of a different sort ...

Ciao a tutti!

We interrupt our regular 'Embracing the Detours' chronicles of Alana and Gary trekking through Europe to bring you news of a detour of a different sort ...

A love of adventure and globetrotting obviosuly runs in the family (shout out to Jan and Al) as my very awesome and very brave brother, Benjamin Pugh-Jones, and his equally crazy and awesome mate Martin Zietsman, or 'Dutch', are less than a week away from throwing caution (and technology ... and modernity ... and ABS braking) to the wind and taking on the untamed wilderness in a second hand tuk tuk across Sri Lanka as part of the famous Lanka Challenge 2011.

The Lanka Challenge (for more info go to http://www.largeminority.com/) is a combination of timed legs and challenges, where teams from all over the world compete against each other in a race across Sri Lanka in standard issue Indian made tuk tuks. The Lanka Challenge supports its local partners and much of the proceeds generated go to the race's partners, the Red Cross Society of Sri Lanka and Land Owners Restore Rainforests in Sri Lanka.

What an epic adventure! We wish these two intrepid travellers the best of luck - show 'em what South Africans are made of! I only wish we were going with you (tuk tuk sherpers maybe????)

x

A Weekend in Firenze

Battling to tear ourselves away from remarkable Verona, we eventually managed to depart and launched ourselves head first into the picture-perfect countryside of Tuscany.

Tuscany is truly something to behold – the definition of Italy’s dolce vita or ‘the sweet life’.

However, with Shabbat on the horizon we headed straight for our weekend stop – a place that surpasses all the clichés and incessant praise. The cradle of the Renaissance, the home of Michelangelo and the Medici family and a unique concentration of humanity’s masterpieces – it could only be Firenze.

Overwhelmed by all the incredible places to visit and art to absorb, my favourite memory of Florence was the view from our hotel window – overlooking Santa Croce (I felt like I had been transposed onto a page of A Room With A view) with the bells tolling and the dusty pink sun sinking behind the blue and lavender sky.

We did it all, don’t you doubt us for a second: window shopping along the jewellery stores of the ancient Ponte Vecchio; running through the deserted alleyways and turning a corner to be literally bowled over by the scale, magnificence and the sheer detail of the Duomo (AND catching a free tour in English, to boot); walking between the statues of the great in the Uffizi; gate-crashing yet ANOTHER wedding shoot in the grand Piazza Della Signoria; taking a seat and catching our breath in the Palazzo Strozzi and gaping at the beauty of the Chiesa di Orsanmichele. We also rubbed the legendary snout of the piglet statue at Mercato Nuovo, with its leather market enarby, and clapped with encouragement for random buskers outside the Basillica di Santa Maria Novella, whilst walking ever so slowly so as not to miss a glimpse in the Basilica di Santa Croce (where Machiavelli, Michelangelo, Galileo and Dante amongst others, have all taken their earthly rest).

We also visited the impressive shul of Florence, and had a most interesting, open and inclusive Shabbat dinner with the Chabad there (housed in an Evangelical building with many of the guests being non-Jewish). Of course, we brought a little of our own entertainment to the Friday night by getting absolutely, completely and hopelessly lost in the back streets of Florence for ages until some poor young guy in a yarmulke happened to walk past us and we literally accosted him for directions (he, in good turn, sent us on a wild goose chase but we got there eventually).

My only word of caution for this great city is to the picnickers – armed with our Shabbos lunch, we thought we would find a manicured and cultivated part of Florence’s parks to have a lunch together in the sunshine. Surprisingly, all of the green spaces we came across in our 2 hour walk of the city needed an entrance fee and ticket, so just keep this in mind! We also saw quite a few young tourists being reprimanded by the Carabineri for taking their shoes off in public spaces - proper ‘decorum’ is highly valued and policed here.

Romance in Venezia and Verona …

Ciao Bella!

Giro d’ Italia. We are currently embarking on around three blissful weeks in one of the most beautiful countries of the world – Italy! And I am beyond privileged to be doing it all together with my incredible husband. Perfection!

After tumbling out of our last SSB train in a chaotic pile of luggage, packets and backpacks and kissing our much-loved Swiss Passes goodbye, we looked up from the station platform and were immediately grabbed by the bustling and intoxicating sights of Venezia – an exotic gateway into Italy.

Walking out of the train station in Venice gives a traveller one of the best first impressions of a city from a transport hub that I have ever had the pleasure of seeing, opening as it does right onto the main waterway of the city. Glistening sunshine on the water, exuberant crowds of people and ancient Moorish arches all hit you with full, breath-taking impact as you step out of the building and begin standing in line for your water pass. Can this all be real?

Venice completely enchanted us. We loved the walkways and the array of unique and beautiful bridges; the shape, colours and facades of the mysterious buildings and the quirky boat drivers and gondoliers. The cool pastel colours of Venice at dusk, with the sight of San Marco Square, its striking tower and the gilded tips of the Basilica, was the perfect light to become acquainted with the city on our first stroll. Everything seemed to glow in a softer hue.

Our last evening there was spent standing under a shared umbrella, in the humid summer drizzle, facing the deserted Square and listening to both the lapping waters making the gondolas fall against each other and the sounds of a jazz band playing a haunting ‘Time to Say Goodbye’. So Special.

Our second stop in Italy was no less magical – Verona. A city well known for the timeless romance of its famous ‘star-crossed lovers’, we learnt so much more about its fascinating past from a city walking tour that highlighted its history of occupation (Roman, Venetian, French and Austrian) and ruling family feuds. We also saw first-hand the damage down to Verona in recent times, by retreating German troops. Of course we did indulge in some of the ‘Romeo and Juliet’ pilgrimage too, writing our names on the specially designated area at Juliet’s home and touching her statue to ensure, as legend has it, luck in love for eternity.

It was during this first week in Italy that Gary treated me to two of the most romantic experiences anyone could ask for – a trip for two around Venice and under the Bridge of Sighs in a gondola and seeing my first opera, La Traviata, performed at night in Verona’s ancient Roman Teatro. The sights, sounds and intensity of these two special events will stay with me for many years to come …

Hanging from the Heavens

As those of you who know me will attest, I’m not the world’s biggest daredevil when it comes to heights. Okay, I’m not even a mediocre daredevil. The words I am about to pen regarding our life and death experience are indeed a living testament to how much I love my husband and all that I would do to make him happy.

One of Gary’s most looked forward to experiences in Switzerland was to get up close and personal with the Alps. However, having missed the dizzying heights of training to the top of the Jungfrau due to rain, cloud and winds whilst we were in Interlaken, we were very keen to seize our last and thankfully sunny morning in Zermatt and tackle the mighty Matterhorn in the best way we could – the Glacial Paradise Cable Car.

Now I must clarify a few things at this stage: firstly, by ‘we’ I mean Gary .You see, I have had some previous experience of Alpine cable cars before and I knew a little of what we were in for and; secondly, by ‘Paradise’ they mean hell. Literally. Whoever runs that contraption should be arrested for false advertising.

So, with Gary chomping at the bit and me a little less so, we set out to find the start of the cable car at the very top of Zermatt, paid for our tickets and preceded to bundle up as best we could for two South Africans who packed for a European summer adventure. I already knew that my Woolies secret socks and my trusty pair of jeans, rapidly and worryingly splitting in the crotch area, were woefully inadequate for the task that lay ahead but the look of sheer excitement and anticipation on Gary’s face was enough to bolster me and get me on the car. Time to put on the big girl panties Pugh-Jones, let’s go ...

The leisurely cable car which approached the isolated ramp (maybe a sign Lan?) where we were waiting to begin the journey rapidly sped up as soon we stepped foot inside it. This little cubicle of glass, plastic and chrome then catapulted us into the heavens as soon as the doors closed shut, and before I knew it the world had fallen from under me and we were climbing into the skies at a 45 degree angle. I will also mention here that I do not appreciate the sensation of being carried high above forests, rivers, hamlets of chalets and jagged, rocky mountain peaks attached to a cable which I cannot see.

Things got worse very very quickly.

It was only as we hit the first connecting pole, shuddering what I had by now termed our ‘glass cage of emotion’ up and down vigorously, that the full meaning of a 45 minute cable car ride into the glaciers of the Matterhorn hit home. We were 2 minutes 30 into this thing and the rising panic of an anxiety attack was already crawling out of my chest and up my neck.

Just breathe, just breathe.

It was here that Gary first turned to grab his camera and take a pic of Zermatt flying into the distance behind us. My voice, coming from a deep, dark place within and summoning all the venom of a B-Grade character in an exorcist movie, hissed, “Do not move in the cable car. Keep very still”.

Suddenly a glacial breeze whipped up into a frenzy around us, and our hurtling cable car began swaying from side to side.

It was at this point that Gary shared the truly ‘good’ news, “Lan, did you know this is the highest cable car in Europe!” Oh wonderful Gary, just dandy my dear.

4000 meters above sea level.

Minus 9 degrees celcius.

32km winds.

And I’m in a bloody flying TUPPERWARE BOX!

But the story doesn’t end here ladies and gentlemen. After arriving at the so-called ‘Glacial Paradise’ and freezing our little cardigans off in the admittedly spectacular snowy views, we had a quick coffee break in the panoramic café and began to make our way back to the dreaded cars and towards solid earth in Zermatt.

Unfortunately, there were only two ways back down the mountain – snowboots and hiking (that’s a big ‘can’t do’ right there folks) and that damned cable car. The sheer terror in the pit of your stomach when, having very ungraciously braved a very hairy ride up, you realize that the whole endeavour must be repeated downwards - simply indescribable. And to really up the ante, upon climbing back into the cable car from the ramp a whole host of sirens went beserk in perfect synchronicity and the entire operation ground to a halt.

Everyone else seemed to be super relaxed or on another planet, as I looked around wildly and urgently gestured to the young teenager manning the control room, who had his feet up on the desk and his iPod in his ears. Just as suddenly as the whole mechanism had stopped it all began humming to life again. By now it was a tad too late for me to launch myself out of the closing car and so, freaked out and armed with the bad omen of the halting cable, we set off downwards to skim the slopes.

This time the earth below us, serrated icy peaks and desolate volcanic valleys, was not falling beneath us but rushing up towards me at a rate of knots. Looking to the horizon, I could not see anything but blue skies in my peripheral vision. Awe-inspiring stuff.

However, at the highest point of the ride, and on cue with the wind that was beginning to build up again, the unthinkable happened.

OUR CABLE CAR STOPPED. Dead still. I could hear a pin drop.

I could write novels on the grisly intricacies of what transpired next and will try not to do so here, save to say that there was a lot of heavy breathing and white knuckles on my part; Gary kept trying to tell me how everything would be okay (his increasingly croaky voice giving the game away) and the whole scenario was repeated no less than 3 more times as the cable car kept lurching forward and grinding to a halt – each time making the damn thing sway harder than a mambo dancer.

For the love of all that is holy. I just kept thinking, “And we paid in Euros for this???”

By the time we got to dry land, feeling more than a little wobbly, and I had got off my knees from kissing the linoleum floor of the cable car ticket office, I had already tried to register complaint and the need for an inquiry. Mam, if I had known that the cable car might stop and not to be alarmed by this, then I would have mentally prepared myself for it!
With a splitting migraine from using the sheer power of my mind to keep us attached to the cable and moving downwards at a slow smooth pace, and with Gary also looking a little shattered, we walked the streets of Zermatt looking for gluwien.

Wont be doing that again in a hurry …