Tommy says…

Sun Yat-sen Mausoleum

This is the first in hopefully a number of posts where I put up travel itineraries which have worked well for me. See notes below on my choice of sights and alternatives.

Where: Nanjing is a historic city located in eastern China, about 300km from Shanghai as the crow flies, or roughly 1.5 hours by bullet train. Today, Nanjing is the capital of Jiangsu province, but for centuries it was the capital of various regimes throughout Chinese history, and the capital of a unified China in the 14th century and again in the early 20th century. Its long history has given it many poetic names, but its modern name means, simply, “the southern capital”, mirroring the name of Beijing, “the northern capital”. Culturally and linguistically, Nanjing is a thorough mixture of northern and southern China, reflecting successive influxes of northern rulers and its location in the heartland of Wu culture. Visitors to Nanjing are usually attracted by its great monuments, including the tomb of Sun  Yat-sen, the “father of modern China”, but it is also famous for its food, boulevardes, lakes and mountains, and the legends that still echo from laneways to ruined palaces.

The Gate of Fraternity

Day 1:

• Train to Nanjing: I took the 8:00 am bullet train from Shanghai station to Nanjing station (about 1.5 hours travelling time). If you are travelling by train, note carefully the departure and arrival stations. If you are departing from relatively central Shanghai, I recommend choosing a train that goes from Shanghai station to Nanjing station, rather than from Shanghai Hongqiao to Nanjing South. Also be aware that Nanjing South station moved in 2011 from just south of the city centre to much further away, and now takes about 30-45 minutes longer to get to from central Nanjing.
  

  Shuttle "trains" and golf carts

• Purple Mountain (紫金山） / Zhongshan Mountain （钟山） area: the most impressive monuments in Nanjing are located in these hills just east of the city centre.  The three key attractions here are the Mausoleum of Sun Yat-sen, the tomb of the first Emperor of the Ming Dynast, and the Linggu Temple area, which was formerly the Nationalist war cemetary for the 1911 revolution and conflicts with Japan leading up to World War II. Each of these are arranged up the slope of a mountain, and there are golf carts / electric shuttle cars to convey tourists within the larger park area.
• From the railway station, take the Metro Line 1 to Xinjiekou station (新街口), then change to Line 2 to Muxuyuan station (苜蓿园). Leave the station from Exit 1, and follow the signposted boardwalk which runs parallel to the main road to a parking area next to the elevated expressway.
• Buy tickets for the park shuttles. Current prices are RMB 5 per ride, but I recommend the five-ride ticket for RMB 15 since you will most likely take at least three rides while in the park.
  

  Avenue of plane trees in Purple Mountain

• Find the park shuttle to the Mausoleum of Sun Yat-sen (中山陵). The tomb complex is free to visit. From the shuttle stop, follow the crowds to reach Fraternity Square, in front of the Gate of Fraternity. Directly across the square from that gate is an interesting bronze cauldron, which marks the southern tip of the tomb complex. Follow the stone steps up the hill to visit the tomb itself. The burial chamber (influenced by that of Napoleon) itself is currently closed to visitors due to the influx in visitors since the tomb complex stopped charging admission. (About 1 hour)
• Coming back to Fraternity Square, cross the square slightly to the left (while facing away from the tomb) and you will see a sign for the Music Bowl (音乐台). Here you can buy a ticket that covers admission to the other major sights in the Purple Mountain area for RMB 90. The Music Bowl itself is an interesting example of Republican architecture and design.
• Coming back to Fraternity Square, go right as you face the tomb to board the shuttle for Linggu Temple (灵谷寺). Take a walk  up the hill to see:
• the Hall of Infinite Strength (无量殿/无梁殿), a rare, brick-vaulted traditional Chinese building which was converted into a shrine to the war dead of the National Revolutionary Army;
• Linggu pagoda, an early 20th century construction decorated with works of calligraphy by artists who happened to have been leaders of the 1911 revolution, and which offers great views over the area and Nanjing generally;
• several interesting tombs, shrines and memorials of various styles, such as the tomb of Tan Yankai, a 20th century construction with classical Chinese elements; and
• Linggu Temple, a modern recreation of the temple from which this ensemble derives its name; and
• In the right season, sweet osmanthus blossoms.
• (About 2 hours in total)
  

  The front of the mound at the Ming Xiaoling Mausoleum

• Coming back out to the shuttle stop, look for the shuttle that goes to the Ming Xiaoling Tomb (明孝陵), the 15th century tomb of the first Emperor of the Ming Dynasty. The shuttle takes you close to the tomb complex itself, which is an interesting mixture of original elements and later reconstructions of buildings destroyed by war. After you reach the burial mound, come back out, and upon exiting the gate of the tomb complex there is a path that leads left. (Less than 1 hour)
• Optional: if you are doing well for time at this point, follow that path to the left, which takes you into the Zixia Lake (紫霞湖) area. A 20 minute walk up the mountain is rewarded with pretty views of Zixia Lake, a reservoir high up the mountain built at the time of the construction of the Mausoleum of Sun Yat-sen. It is a favourite swimming, fishing and picnicking spot for locals.  Walking around the lake takes you to some medieval ruins and also Zhengqi Pavilion (正气亭), which reputedly marks the spot that Chiang Kai-shek picked out for his own tomb. On the way up or down the hill you will also see the ruins of the tomb of the first crown prince of the Ming Dynasty, who predeceased his father and so was buried close to his tomb, and a gallery of Chinese calligraphy carvings. (About 1.5 hours)
• Coming back down to the front of the Xiaoling tomb, a road leads to the right as you stand before the bridges before the tomb (facing away from the tomb). Follow this road as it turns left and then left again to see the stone statues of civil and military officials who guard the “spirit way” of the Emperor’s tomb, and, after another turn to the left, paired statues of animal guardians both mythical and real. The camels and elephants are especially impressive. At the end of the “spirit way”, follow the path until you see a tall brick enclosure on your right. This is the official tombstone for the mausoleum, a giant granite block carried by a colossal tortoise-like creature. From here, take the pedestiran bridge across the main road to exit the mausoleum complex from its official entrance, the Great Golden Gate.
• At this point you will find yourself in a complex of shops, restaurants, and galleries capitalising on the tourist trade. If Republican history interests you, turn left here, exit the mall complex via the path marked by ornate columns on the left to return to the main road. Walk along the road to the right and you will come across Meiling Palace (美龄宫), formerly an official residence for the President of the Republic of China but in reality a villa used mostly by Generallissimo and Madame Chiang Kai-shek. The villa is ticketed separately.
• To get to your hotel or to the city, there are shuttle stops on the main road near Meiling Palace. The one across the road takes you back to Muxuyuan subway station but services are infrequent. You can walk back to Muxuyuan station by following the main road, it takes about 15-20 minutes.
• Gate of China (Zhonghua Men) / the Confucian Temple night markets / Hunan Road snack street
• The Gate of China (中华门) was the southern gate of Nanjing, and is well known for its formidable construction and elaborate defences. Unlike ordinary city walls which are defended by one barbican, the Gate of China has three, and an invader who chooses (unwisely) to attach the city here would have to breach four gates and face traps and arrows at every turn. From here, you have the option of walking or cycling along the city wall for quite a long way in either direction. The gate complex itself houses exhibitions as well as a temple to a treasure bowl that legend holds was buried under this gate. Note that the subway stop named “Gate of China” is some distance from the gate itself, the most convenient transport option is by bus. The “Tourism route 2″ or “Y2″ (游2) (see general tips below about the ”tourism route” buses) takes you to the gate.
• From the Gate of China, take the Y2 (游2) bus out (the bus stop is on the side of the gate complex, on your right if you are standing on the gate facing away from the moat and into the city) to the Confucian Temple (夫子庙). This is not just a temple – indeed the temple itself is quite small and not entirely authentic. In times past, this area housed one of the main imperial academies in China, and with the large concentration of students the area became a centre for restaurants, taverns, shops of all description, and brothels. The brothels are gone now but the other establishments have been re-established. Take a walk (and maybe a boat trip on the river) and absorb the bustling atmosphere.
• On the south side of the river are some historical neighbourhoods, including the newly constructed Ancient Residences of Wang and Xie (王谢古居). This is a museum which is intended to reflect the era when Nanjing served as the capital of several dynasties ruling over southern China. The museum is located in Wuyi Xiang (乌衣巷), or “Black Suit Alley”, named after a unit of elite troops of the Wu kingdom in the Three Kingdoms period which was stationed here. Their distinctive uniform – as you may have guessed – was black.
• Being so saturated with tourists, it is difficult to find good food near the Confucian Temple. From here, take a bus (e.g. route 31) or the subway (follow the signs) to get to Hunan Road. The closest subway stop is Xuanwu Men (玄武门). There are a number of “snack streets” off Hunan Road, which are packed with unique restaurants and food stalls. The most accessible is Lion Bridge, or Shizi Qiao (狮子桥). This street is perpendicular to Hunan Road and is marked by a large ceremonial gate on Hunan Road.
• Some recommendations for “local” flavour include:
• Huiwei Duck Blood Vermicelli (回味鸭血粉丝)  (past the McDonalds). Their signature dish, duck blood vermicelli souop, features mung bean vermicelli in a soup along with a variety of duck products, including blocks of duck blood (like tofu but with duck flavour), gizzards, cured liver and other delicacies. Great tasting (despite the organic sounding ingredient list). Goes well with a basket of their xiaolongbao (tiny steamed buns with soup). Order at the counter, pick up food from a window and take it to your chosen table.
• A Simple Diet  (粗茶淡饭) (before the McDonalds) serves a variety of down-to-earth but delicious regional cuisine.  Choose a table, catch a waitress to get your order form, then go to the counters to order. The menu is presented as plastic food so you can get an approximate idea of what you get even without speaking the language. I recommend the chicken soup with stirred noodles. The pastries (xiaolongbao and other steamed dishes) are also nice.
• To leave from Lion Bridge, walk back out to Hunan Road. Walking to the right takes you to Xuanwumen station. Alternatively, walk left until you reach Zhongshan Road, where you will find many bus lines.
• If you still have the energy, take the subway or a bus to Xinjiekou (新街口), the key modern shopping area in Nanjing, where you will find department stores and international brands.

Day 2:

Presidential Palace

• Presidential Palace: The Presidential Palace in Nanjing was the centre of political power during the periods of Kuomintang (Nationalist) rule in the Republic of China. It is a mixture of a classical Chinese yamen (as the office of the Viceroy of the Two Jiangs), Republican-era architecture and Communist era desecration.
• Take the subway line 2 to Daxinggong station and walk north across the open plaza, alternatively take the Y2 bus.
• There is plenty to see at the Presidential Palace and no single route. It roughly divides into three sections organised around the central, western and eastern axes. The most significant sights are along the central axis. This includes the restored presidential office and executive council conference rooms, all in the Zichao building at the northern end of the compound.
• The western axis features several gardens as well as the presidential office used by Sun Yat-sen as the first provisional president of the Republic.
• The eastern axis has a range of service buildings from the Viceregal era, as well as some early 20th century offices used by the executive government during the Republican era, restored to the way they were in the 1940s.
  

  The steps seen in many official photographs of the Republican era

• Nearby is the Meiyuan Estate (梅园新村), some preserved villas from the Republican era which are today preserved mainly because the Communist party delegation to the capital was located here during the negotiations between the Communists and Nationalists in 1946-7.
• A new attraction which at the time of writing is yet to open despite having been completed more than 3 years ago is the Nanjing Zizhao Fu (南京织造府), or the Nanjing Weaving Works, intended to be a museum on the site of the former imperial weaving and embroidery works. The architecture is interesting as a combination of traditional elements juxtaposed onto contemporary forms. The building currently sits empty due to disagreements between the private sector developers, the city government and scholars as to its proper contents.
• Also in this area of the town are several universities such as Nanjing University (the former Nanking University) and Southeast University (the National Central University during the Republican era), which feature some interesting architecture from the Republican era. Also interesting is Yihe Road (颐和路), reputedly the best collection of Republican architecture in Nanjing.
  

  Jiming Temple viewed from the wall

• Jiming Temple (鸡鸣寺), or the Temple of the Crowing Rooster, is a historical temple built along the slopes of a hill to the north of central Nanjing. You can reach it by walking by buses including the Y2.
• While the temple itself is fairly small and mostly the result of modern construction, its most interesting features is original: a covered walkway at the back of the temple takes you from the hill on which the temple is built onto the city wall. This section of city wall gives some great views over the city, and also over Xuanwu Laketo the north.
  

  Xuanwu Lake from the wall

• From here, it is not too far to go to one of the eateries of Hunan Road for a late lunch and perhaps shopping for some souvenirs.
• Duck is a traditional specialty of Nanjing and often bought as souvenirs.  One particularly well known shop is the Halal Han Fu Xing (韩复兴) Cured Duck Shop, which makes great salt ducks and roast ducks, as well as the eponymous cured ducks and a variety of duck products and other types of roasted poultry. One unique product, sold from a window facing the street, is duck-oil pancakes. These come in both sweet and savoury varieties, and are delicious if eaten hot (or reheated). Han Fu Xing have branches on Hunan Road (No. 110 Hunan Road) and in several other places.
• When returning by train, the best way to get to the station is via subway Line 1, either to Nanjing Railway Station or Nanjing South Railway Station. The latter takes longer to get to, and should not be confused with the old Nanjing South Railway Station, now re-named Gate of China (or Zhonghuamen) Station.

Other notes:

1.  Nanjing is best seen on a 3-4 day trip, this is a compressed itinerary suitable for a weekend trip out of Shanghai.
2. I speak passable Mandarin; if language is a problem for you, you may want to ask someone to prepare printed tags for you and rely more on taxis and metros and less on buses, for example.
3. I don’t like wasting my travel time on political propaganda. Two major Nanjing “attractions” which fall into this category and therefore are excluded here are the Yuhuatai (“Platform of the Rain of Flowers”) Martyr’s Memorial and the Nanking Massacre Memorial.
4. I prefer eating local specialties at restaurants where taste comes first. While hygiene is important to me, decor is not, and I usually avoid foods which are from the wrong part of the world. For example, even though I make no mention of them above, Nanjing, like any other city in China, has a good selection of spicy restaurants if your tastes are inclined that way.

Happy travelling!

Lest we forget.

– from behind the Great Firewall of China

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XJBnHMpHGRY

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/picturegalleries/worldnews/8555247/Tiananmen-Square-massacre.html

It was a grey morning with a light sprinkle of rain in Paris. G and I had been wandering the laneways near the Madeleine and the Palais Garnier looking for coffee, when we chanced upon a little store. We were intrigued by the window displays, an eclectic mixture of writing instruments, stamps and cards, all stylishly designed. We went in. It being fairly early in the morning and close to Christmas, we seemed to be the only visitors, although there were quite a few staff tending various departments. The store was modern and minimalist in decor, and was organised into several somewhat disparate departments. There was a philatelic department, equipped with mounted magnifying glasses for examining stamps; an area for designing (and printing) your own envelope and parcel wrappers; as well as a large range of pens, cards, writing paper, and equipment and material for creating your own stationery.

I especially liked the philatelic counter – where I bought my favourite piece of Paris souvenir. Le Carré d’Encre literally means “Ink Square”. The store brought to mind what a post office shop could be like if it was given a complete redesign by someone with both a sense of style and a love of writing, in all its forms. In fact, that seems to be how the store came to be – it is a project of Phil@Poste, the stamps and stamp-collecting section of the French postal authority, La Poste. They  took all the fun bits of a post shop (stamps, stationery, cards, even creative envelopes and parcel wrapping) and gave it the glamour treatment – but left out all the boring bits like the queues, teller-style counters, and computer-printed text labels.

Even surrounded by all the grand magasins of Avenue Haussman, this shop definitely stood out as my favourite.

Who: Le Carré d’Encre
Where: 13bis, rue de Mathurins, 75009 Paris (nearest Metro: Havre-Caumartin)
What: Stylishly designed stationery and stamp store
Website: http://www.lecarredencre.fr

Travel tip #15: To avoid tourist trap restaurants, make sure you are at least two blocks from any tourist attraction.

The next day – our last day in Rome and my last day on the continent – we woke to the newspaper headline: “Shootout at Chinese-Italian Trattoria: dispute over inferior wine and salty spaghetti.” Not wishing to repeat our mistakes, this time we decided to go far, far away from any tourist destinations. After a day of literally running from sight to sight, we ended up at the base of the Spanish Steps (Zegna was on 50% off). We searched in vain for a restaurant with any semblance of normal pricing, and concluded that our rule needed to be modified to “to avoid expensive restaurants, make sure you’re at least 25 blocks from the nearest Zegna store.”

That was when we spotted the entrance to the Spagna metro station. “By my projections, if we go into the metro station and come out the other side, we should be at the other end of the Spanish steps – i.e. at the top of the hill and far enough away from Zegna and Armani,” I said. We were both too tired at that point to think of an alternative plan, so in we went to the station. At the end of the concourse was a set of escalators. Score! I thought. We rode the escalator up, but instead of an exit at the top of the hill as I expected, we saw another set of escalators. Well, the hill must be taller than we thought. We took that. At the end, another set of escalators. And another. And another. And another. Five sets of escalators, twenty minutes, and a bizarre tunnel full of miniature shop windows later, we finally made our exit, and found ourselves on the Champs Elysee.

No kidding – the plane trees, the road side seating, the Third Empire buildings – all the restaurant names were in French. We had the strange feeling of having crossed half the continent in 20 minutes. We found a street sign eventually – this was the Via Veneto – indeed the “Champs Elysee of Rome”. The escalators had taken us halfway across Rome, yet we were even deeper into luxury territory.

Tired, hungry, cursing the lack of consideration of the builders of Spagna station to link one luxury shopping district with another, we admitted defeat and trudged back towards our hotel near the station. Gioanna, the local dragon head who doubled as the kindly proprietress of our hotel, had been right – eat right here around the station. Any problem, she said, call Gioanna and I sort them out.

Well, that’s it folks. Tomorrow I fly home via London. Despite all the fun, I’m kind of looking forward to my own bed.

Until next time from home,
Tommy

Travel tip #15: To avoid tourist trap restaurants, make sure you are at least two blocks from any tourist attraction.

When we formulated that rule, we didn’t take Rome into consideration. Rome, the eternal city, is littered with the debris of 2,500 years. You can hardly walk down a street in Rome without bumping into a classical ruin here or a medieval palace there. Finding a non-tourist-trap (or, on the west bank of the Tiber, “pilgrim”-trap) restaurant is hard enough. Finding one that’s two blocks from a tourist attraction proved to be a major endeavour requiring careful triangulation on our maps.
We did manage it, though, the first night we were there. Two blocks from Piazza Navona (location of the Fountain of Four Rivers), we spotted a little alleyway, which could only be reached from our side of the main road through a pedestrian tunnel which was, in fact, a bookshop (“Underground bookshop! Admission Free!” said the sign at the door in English). It claimed to be a trattoria, a traditional Italian eatery, and the prices displayed at the door was very reasonable. The fare seemed Italian – we were glad – with no sign of a fillet mignon or a wienschnitzel in sight.

We pushed open the lace-curtained door, and were warmly greeted by a Chinese lady and (I presume) her Chinese daughter, in English. We seemed to be the only customers in the shop. I asked for a menu, exchanged a look with Brian. I said, loudly, “hmm, this doesn’t seem to have that dish I wanted…”, then in a whisper, “okay, go or stay?” “Your call. I don’t give a fuck. They look Italian enough,” said Brian. We decided that we’ll brave the Asianness. Afterall, didn’t Enoch’s Chinese friend back in Sydney run an Italian restaurant that appeared to serve Italian food?

We sat down, and the girl – she couldn’t have been older than 13 – took our orders. “A bottle of your finest vino bianco, kind signorina,” I said, or words to that effect. I ordered a mixed seafood for my entree and a spaghetti with vingoli (“What’s vingoli?” “I think it’s a kind of shellfish.” “Cool.” “Or maybe it’s squirrel. Not sure.”), and Brian had tripe and another pasta.
We weren’t ready for the ambush at all. I’d been in Italy for a week, and was pretty confident I’d come to grips with the place. Then wham – it hit us like a frying pan in the face. Yes, that’s right. The wine was not that great – a tad astringent. “This wine – it’s probably worse than about 20% of Australian white wines!” I cried in horror. “It’s pretty shit,” Brian agreed, “But you can’t complain. I said it was your call!”

Everything went downhill from there. My cold seafood mix looked like it came straight from the fish shop counter. And the spaghetti with vingoli – well, it was stir fried pippies with a noodle base. “Does this look a bit Chinese to you?” I asked Brian. He looked down and looked up. “No.” “No? Look at this! It’s got bloody shallots! It’s stir fried pippies with –” “No,” he interrupted me, “because I can see into the kitchen from where I’m sitting.” “So?” I asked. “So I can see the chef. And he’s Indian.” My response was probably best summed up as -_-”.

At this point, though, we were disturbed in our enjoyment of our fine, traditional Italian meals. A distinctly Italian couple walked in – a man and a woman, both wearing a lot of black leather. They spoke rather sternly to the Chinese lady, who was soon joined by the proprietor – who we could now see was, in fact, Italian. The young girl – their daughter, I presume, started talking at length to the new arrivals. The conversation became rather intense.

“Mafia,” whispered Brian. I nodded. They certainly looked the part. Emboldened by my experience of watching Who Wants to be a Millionaire in Italian the previous night, I proceeded to translate their conversation…
“Fat Tony saysa to tell you he been hearing you been serving bad wine.”
“No! Curses to the lying son of a boar who spreads such lies.”
“Are you calling Fat Tony a liar?”
“No! I… ”
“I been also hearing where you been serving seafood salad straight from the fish shop.”
“Well, you know how it is, Indian chefs, seafood salad is not their traditional fare…”
“And worst of all, your protection money is late by three days…”
“Our business has been bad! We have no customers except these two stingy Asian boys who aren’t even going to tip! You know what they’re like!”

The intense discussion seeemed to reach an impasse, when the woman in black strode into the kitchen – probably to quiz the Indian chef on his Italianness – while the man in black sat down at the cash register, and started to count money –
We took one look at that, and decided to make a dash for it, leaving our money on the table. The owner barely noticed us – he was staring at the mafioso thumbing through his cash register.

Until the next day,

Tommy

Travel tip #14: Don’t go to Pitti Palace

Florence. The capital of Tuscany. The home of Michelangelo, Machiavelli and the Medicis; the city of the Renaissance, of art, architecture, and finance. And it did not take long to see that the money-grabbing tradition of the medieval Medici Bank lives on in the city.

Italy in low season is great value. In Venice, we paid €25 each and stayed in a palazzo, 3 minutes from San Marco Square, breakfast included. Most major attractions, such as churches, are free, and €15 can get you a decent sit-down meal.

The rules are different in Florence. The San Lorenzo Church, across the street from the Medici palace, fronted by a statue of Cosimo de Medici, attached to the Medici chapel, charges 10 euros for admission. But to get around the no-charging-for-church-entry policy, they cleverly disguise the fee as entry to the “museum”, except you can’t get into the church without going into the “museum”. And the “museum” turns out to be the church’s crypt, with the key attraction being the tomb of – there’s that name again – Cosimo de Medici.

Then we made the mistake of heading to Pitti Palace. Built by the Pitti, another prominent family of Florence, it was acquired by the Medicis after they financially ruined the Pitti, and was the seat of the Medici dynasty for most of their reign over Florence. The palace was connected to the Town Hall, on the other side of the river, by the Vecchio Bridge. At the time, the bridge was monopolised by butcher shops. Not wishing to smell fresh slaughter on their daily saunter to and from the office, the Medicis ordered the butchers out, and replaced them with goldsmiths – which occupy the length of the bridge to this day.

Entry to the Pitti Palace costed €12. This seemed a tad excessive, given that the Galleria dell’Academia, home of the David, was only €6.50. We went in anyway, seeing as how this was the home of the Medicis. As it turned out, €12 gets you, well, not very much at all. A few mouldy rooms, a lot of second-rate paintings. All the pick of the Medici collection had been donated to the city centuries before, and are now displayed in the Uffizi (“Offices”) Gallery across the river. And no photography was allowed. Plus, the €12 covers only half the palace. The other half was another €8. AND the garden was another €6. My conclusion: don’t go there.

Writing this far, I’ve realised that the Medicis are really ahead of the curve on this one. Lorenzo de Medici must have modelled all this out way back when and decided – damn economic cycles, fleecing tourists is a much more reliable income stream than, say, selling hybrid securities. Hence why the Medici bank folded back in the 19th century and turned to ripping off tourists. Prescience!

* * *

We did however make two positive finds in Florence which gave us at least a psychological victory over the Medicis. The town hall, called Palazzo Vecchio, housed a number of museums, again with exorbitant entry fees. Normally, visitors climb a set of entry stairs to the top floor, and starting from the top floor, make their way down another set of exit stairs to each of the lower floors. Having been stung once, we clibmed up the exit stairs (unguarded) to the top floor. (“I don’t have a reputation to maintain in this country.”) The guy at the landing gave us a suspicious look, so we retreated back to the next floor down, and this time, we looked naturally like we’d just come from the top floor. By sacrificing the top floor, we toured the rest of the museum for free. That’s one for tourists, zero for the Medicis.

The other great find in Florence was a specialist pasta restaurant that served a pasta degustation for about €10. Every dish was awesome, as was the wine and the main that followed (not included in the €10). I had a steak in a mirtillo (cranberry) sauce. Awesome.

Until next time,

Tommy

Travel tip #13: Three scams to be avoided at all costs:
- the Gypsy woman/girl who asks “do you speak English”?
- the Gypsy woman/girl who hangs around the station ticket machine
- the String Man

Continental Europe can be a pretty crap place if you get caught up by a scammer. These are three of my pet peeves.

“Do you speak English?” – This is almost definitely a bad sign on the streets of continental Europe, especially when asked by females dressed in colourful rags. Don’t respond. I did, once, back when I was a naive little Aussie on his first trip to Europe. The lady in question quickly clutched my arm and shoved a postcard in my face: it read “I’m a poor widowed mother of eight pitiful orphaned girls from Bosnia, all the men in the family were brutally disembowelled before my very eyes. I have been diagnosed with cancer of the ovulus and need a lump of money just to buy my daily bread…” or something along those lines. The truth is, these people are Gypsies, not war refugees. They are well organised and they are very, very good at what they do. The best response is simply to feign deafness – easier to pull off when you are Asian. Answering “no” – in English – is probably the dumbest response.

Ticket machine scam – The more industrious Gypsy drifter works in one of two ways. Some loiter around station ticket booths and ticket machines, and offer to help you buy your ticket for you. They will then ask for a few Euros for their troubles. Not a good deal for the traveller, since all ticket machines in Western Europe have an English language option, and in any case the station staff (at least in the cities) are highly trained, very helpful, and speak English. The second, more resourceful variety, we saw in Geneva, and features an old lady who holds a stored-value ticket at a ticket machine, and offers to buy a ticket for you. I don’t know where she got her where she got the stored-value ticket from, but this is an even worse deal for the traveller, because Geneva has a scheme where all hotel/hostel guests receive free public transport. It is a little sad that these people are “working” in these trades, when they are obviously quite bright and speak English quite well. Perhaps if there weren’t such prejudice against Gypsies, they’d be able to make a living in a job that doesn’t depend on fraud.

The String Man – If the “I’m Bosnian rescue me” scam is just annoying, and the ticket machine scam is at least a fee for a service, then the String Man is downright dangerous. The scam works like this. The African man (they are usually black) approaches you, offers to tie a string around your wrist “for good luck” – then demands 5 euros to take it off. “Just walk away”, you are thinking, right? The reason the String Man is dangerous, is because he is not reluctant to use force – first grabbing your arm or bag if you try to ignore him, then blocking your way if you try to walk away. The antidote? I saw it firsthand in Milan. A group of String Men were pestering tourists on the square before the Duomo (cathedral), when a bunch of young mafia bloods spotted them and approached them. The String Men dropped everything and fled – ran – out of the square. It’s great. After the Carabinieri (national military-police) and the Polizia (provincial and specialist police), the Mafia is pretty much the third police force for maintaining public order.

Until next time,

Tommy

P.S. my bear does not appear in this post because I thoughtlessly left him in Florence during this leg of the trip. He will return for the next leg of the journey.

Travel tip #12: When visiting a foreign country, all the vocabulary you need to survive is the numbers 1-3, the characteristic food item of the place, yes, (no is a valuable bonus) and thank you.

Venice is truly the promised land. It’s been my life-long dream ever since this time last year to eat spaghetti with squid in ink in Italy. We dined last night at a restaurant in Venice recommended by Lonely Planet. It had an English menu, was fully of American tourists, and surly waiters. Have you noticed how tourist traps always have surly waiters? It’s as if they view you with contempt because you fell for their tourist trap. The meal costed €35 each (about $70). I couldn’t stop thinking about how many lobsters I could buy at home for that much money (okay, about one), or how many Armani ties I could get at the Harrods sale back in London.

So it was with some despondency that we took the boat out to Murano, an island in the suburbs of Venice renowned for glass-blowing. Venice, by the way, is a collection of marshy islands connected by bridges and separated by canals. There is just one road that fits a car – running alongside the railway line to the mainland. Whereas in any other city you see a cab rank when you come out of the train station, in Venice you see a line of wharves, with boat-busses, boat-taxis and gondolas waiting to take you downtown. We took one of the boat-busses out to Murano, and after getting lost down a tiny alley-way, saw a tiny restaurant across the church square. We decided to chance it, and the place was simply awesome! It had no signs indicating its name; it had a squat toilet; it was full of serious Italian men (no women) who looked like they worked down on the docks and were ducking in for their lunch. The menu was in Italian, and I had to fall back on the Italian I picked up from half a year of proper study back in year 7 and then randomly over the years. Between my broken Italian and the waiter’s broken English (“polpo, is a kind of…” [indicates many wavy arms] (it means octopus)), we managed to piece together the menu, whence comes my tip #10 above. Instead of a multi-label winelist as favoured by the pretentious arseholes at Lonely Planet, this place had just two – bianco o rosso – white or red. I’m probably sounding a bit like those spoof travel guides Molvania/Phaic Tan – The bits that go “Twenty years ago this place had no chair lifts. It took me 20 days of hard hiking and hacking through the jungle to advance 200 metres, and I was infected by malaria. Twice. But it was priceless…”

The wine came in a clear glass jug and was probably better than 80% of wines I’ve tasted in Australia. But the best part was the food. I had sardin a saor, sardines marinated in vinegar and other condiments, a Venetian delicacy, and spaghetti seppie, i.e. with squid in ink. The food was delicious, no-nonsense, not overly rich as Italian meals sometimes can be. In a word, it was perfect. And the price? €15 including the wine and water. Brilliant.

My second life-long dream, ever since the calzone shop on Norton Street closed down like 10 years ago, has been to eat a cheap calzone in Italy. I managed that tonight. Having gotten to Venice station for the train to Florence with an hour to spare, I decided to find a cheap calzone shop (which in some ways is the Italian equivalent to our kebab shop), so I struck off in a random direction, and two canals later – voila. I march in and, with my broken Italian, ask for “due calzoni tradizionale, per favore”. Dude doesn’t even blink, and replies in perfect American English “Mushroom and ham? Won’t be a moment”. I’m happy though. I may have been outted as a fobber, but he understood me.

So, language lesson of the day, your essential first aid kit of Italian:

one – uno
two – due
three – tre
essential food item – calzone
yes – si
thank you – grazie

Until next time, from the land of good beer and good wine,

Tommy

Travel tip #11: Four ways to survive in a foreign country with little or no skills:
- busking
- working as toilet attendant
- begging
- loiter around free food stalls

The busker: Italy doesn’t seem to have the strict busking licensing laws of, say, London, so buskers are everywhere. Some make an effort – the guy who’s painted all in gold posing in front of the Uffizi Gallery looked the part – kind of. It’s a pity that his white sneakers sneaked out and somewhat ruined the effect. The smartest busker, though, was one who set down a set of stereos, put on some opera, and walked away. Passers-by still dropped coins for him.

The toilet attendant: A job for candidates who have some proficiency with a mop and look good in a tux. A German phenomenon, a toilet attendant keeps a public toilet in a reasonable state of cleanliness, and in return gets to stand at the door and demand 50 euro cents off each person who comes in. Most of them are plump matrons, though there was one man in Berlin immaculately turned out in a waistcoat and dress shirt, who looked like he could have been a concert pianist.

The beggar: To the Tube carriage in London: “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please. I apologise in advance for disturbing your journey. Times are tough for us all, and I am looking for a little something to get through these times. So if you have any change, or any food or drinks left over from lunch, it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you very much for your kind help.” — delivered with confidence and clarity, and highly effective. Almost everyone in the carriage gave him something – money or a sandwich.

The food stand: The best ice cream I’ve had on this trip? Ferrero’s frozen grain dessert, free at Milan station from a promotional stand, not yet available in Australia and probably never will be. If you plan strategically around promotional samples, you can easily survive for a day without spending a cent!

Until next time,

Tommy

Travel tip #10: Swiss efficiency extends only as far west as the last German-speaking town.

French-speaking Geneva feels like an entirely different country. Street signs are in the familiar blue metal of Paris. Road directions are the same fat, black-on-white light boxes as those found in France. We’ve seen the last of our hauptbahnhofs – here it’s a gare. At the centre of the city stands – not a rathaus, but l’hotel de ville. On the square is the Notre Dame, and further down, the Opera (“deisgned by the same architect who built the Palais Garnier opera house in Paris!” enthused the young man at the tourist information centre). In a word, this is France.

With it comes the laissez-faire attitude of the French. In Zurich, jaywalkers are mown down like broken clocks. In Geneva, motorists and pedestrians go about their own ways, seemingly oblivious to each other, in an elegantly chaotic dance.

Geneva railway station is organised mayhem. Here, I saw my first late train since stepping on the Continent. Stations announcements went like this: “The 4:24 train to Prague is delayed by approximately 20 minutes. We apologise for any inconvenience caused.” “Attention passengers on Platform 15 waiting for the 4:36 train to Milan. This train will now be departing from Platform 18. Please make your way to platform 18″. Sound familiar? It was just like Strathfield station on a bad day. I’ll be honest – they did make me a little homesick.

When the delayed train finally arrived, the train was further delayed by people getting on and off the train – there were still people jumping on and off even as the train began moving away from the platform.

Old Geneva is a little hill-top town, combining French bon-vivre with Alpine charm. Just across the lake, however, it feels much less like a little mountain town, and much more like the alternative capital of the world it is. Charmless concrete apartment blocks flank an avenue leading to the Palais des Nations – which houses many of the UN’s instrumentalities.

After the initial impact of the giant three-legged chair standing on the square (a monument to victims of land mines – and not, as I thought, a monument to the death of the USSR set up by the other three powers) – I realised that on the other corners of the square were WIPO – the World Intellectual Property Organisation – and the UN High Commission for Refugees. Suddenly, I felt like I’d come face to face with the world that I’d only seen through text books.

The other international organisation that makes Geneva one of the most significant corners of the Earth is most famous for a giant hole that runs beneath it. The hole is the Large Hadron Collider, and the organisation is CERN, the European Centre for Nuclear Research. It turns out that a visit to the LHC – and a guided tour of CERN – had to be arranged months in advance. Nevertheless, the visitor’s centre was fascinating, and I got an inordinate amount of pleasure from just being near greatness.

Geneva’s Frenchness does carry with it one boon – French food. I had a duck dish and snails at a little restaurant in the old city. It also gave us a chance to enjoy a breackfast of pastries and coffee. From Geneva, we officially switched our evening meal beverage from beer to wine – we will soon be out of the Alps, and tomorrow we will be in Italy.

Written at Geneva station, en route to Milan.

P.S. The train tracks are bumpy, just like CityRail.

Until next time,

Tommy