Holidays for a Whole Half Year

Loved it. If visas weren't so tricky, I'd be there I think. 

New York is uncannily familiar. The skinny old apartment blocks with stairs down to the pavement, people hanging out on some of these stairs or the sidewalk - playing chess or cards. The cabs, the police and the skyline, the way people talk. 

I must have seen thousands of episodes and movies set in NYC. You have too. It all began with Sesame Street and stretches all the way to the lives and times of Bret and Jemaine.  

So, with the familiarity, it's easy to enjoy. And I think we've stayed in enough big cities now that the common negatives - nasty smells, ugliness sometimes, and the busyness are hard to notice.

At first we stayed on Malcolm X Boulevard in Harlem, in an old and dirty hostel. NY is predictably expensive, so old and dirty it is. 

It's upwards of thirty degrees again, and we're not used to it. The subway runs under our apartment building and gives us all a shake every 15 mins or so. 

Harlem is dead cool. Not many white folks. Wide pavements, where the kids play jumprope, and yell out to us 'where y'all going with those big bags?' Not so many backpackers then. 

Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks on every corner. The donuts are just a hologram, based on fat (I know, I tried one to make sure), each morning coffee in Harlem (drunk in the morning) seems to be packed high with whipped cream. Are you serious? 

The Afro American locals make me chuckle. The young dudes call each other baby, and speak in a most unreal way. A fellow spilt my drink the other day and said. 'i'm so sorry mama.' Funny. I forgave him. The old fellas all just look cool, like they are all jazz masters - even if they actually aren't. 

Half of the girls dress like Beyonce, no matter how large their dress size. There's quite a lot of hooch in Harlem, except for Sundays.

Went for a run in Central Park, with thousands of New Yorkers in the morning. Was safe as houses, felt safe.   

We spent a bit of time in Brooklyn too, which is massive. My impossibly lovely friends Anna and Hugh have moved here, so I now like them even more. My sister and newest and last brother met me here too, so kinda spoilt for fun. 

We visited Williamsburg, which is a trendy part of Brooklyn where americans say there are lots of hipsters. Hipsters are people, and they dress in white sand shoes, coloured glasses, denim shorts or skinny jeans. You know the type, it's kind of like neo emo at home. Well they're hipsters here. 

In W-burg we went to a place called Pies and Thighs for lunch, specializing in fried chicken and sweet pies for dessert. All the staff were hipsters... I shared a fried chicken box with Anna, with lots of hotsauce, and black eyed peas on the side. Then washed down with a mexican Pacifico lager. So American aye. 

We all had pies after, I had rhubarb (lipsmackingly good), you could also have key lime, guava, banana cream, chocolate, and peach, and a few more I can't remember. They so know their baking over here; cookies, sweet pies, and cakes. 

New York cheesecake was ticked off the list at an honest to goodness diner. I also got a cheeseburger, with gigantic gherkins. The diner had so many pies too, cherry, apple, chocolate again.

Baby/mama, I would have to stay for months to try all these sweet pies.   

New York has a pile of beautiful art deco skyscrapers. The Empire State is one, but there's the Chrysler as well (which is my fav), the Woolworths building, and several other stunners. There are many more art deco normal sized buildings too, like the Waldorf Astoria. 

We went inside to have a look. The art deco furnishings are just so graceful. If you ever get the chance to stay... I will keep you company. There was an Oscar de la Renta dress in a beautiful art deco (of course) glass cabinet for the guests to see, and buy if they want. Yes, maybe not in this lifetime for sk. Maybe oscar will be in heaven.

Even church was awesome. We got taken out by some New Yorkers afterwards as well, and were told lots of NYC folk lore, learned how to spot a crack fiend and to keep our distance from people who were mad suspicious. 

I missed a free Alicia Keys concert in Central Park by a week. What a city. 

New York, there's nothing you can't do, these lights will inspire you. Maybe those visa application processes aren't so bad, relatively speaking.         

Next, a few days in Munich. Once more, there's so much that's new and tasty to eat and drink. Appealing baroque churches, cheery beer halls, sausage and apple strudel, my friends.

We spend nearly 5 hours at Dacau, mainly reading, reading, reading. The story of Germany's longest serving concentration camp is very well documented, and incredibly depicted photographically. The individual stories predictably make the camp's story more tangible, the pictures are extremely graphic in places too. I studied lots of world war two history at school and university, but I'm still staggered.

Dacau had everything; prisoners of every type, experiments on people, 30,000 worked to death or murdered, crematorium, and gas chamber. Standing in the crematorium room, where there are stretchers ready to be rolled into the furnaces, the room info notes that prisoners were often hung in front of the furnaces to make life easier for the SS. You can't help but marvel at what people can do to people, and on such a desperate scale! I say a prayer for humankind in the burning room, seemed like the appropriate thing to do.

The American soldiers who liberated Dacau first saw the crematorium with thousands of naked corpses piled up in front. Dacau had run out of coal.

The concentration camp is well worth visiting, the folk have done an excellent job presenting the story.

Well even when we weren't at the sorrowful camp, it rained the whole time we were in Munich. But that kind of made the beer halls more cozy too. We went to a really cool one last night. The great hunks of pork off the bone looked and smelled divine. I had to have pork schnitzel, because I hadn't yet. Thick fillets of tasty pork all crumbed and crispy. We had strudel for dessert and of course beer with all courses. The beer lasses carry fistfuls of brimming beer glasses, and the hopsy foam flows in their wake as they bustle from one table to the next.

There was a German shepherd under our table, sometimes sitting on my foot. One family at the table has three girls, from about 11 years I'd say, all having beer... All the diners and drinkers were happy as; jolly, cheerful Bavarians having a yarn, spilling beer and flashing apple cheeked smiles. Postcard moment people.

I quite wish I could see a bit more of Germany, it's more interesting that I had supposed. And then, to be fair and honest, there are the pretzels which one can eat for breakfast as well.

We arrive to grey skies and rain, but it's much much warmer than the Netherlands. Accommodation prices kill and maim people in Paris, so we are staying way out of town for the first few nights, to the south of Paris.

We are happy just to chill in our village for the first day. Our bullet train trip has worn us out. However our lifestyle in the Netherlands may have played a part - and I blame the boys.

Our village rains on us as well, I don't think my leather Egyptian sandals will survive. The village centre has at least 3 patisseries and boulangeries each, and it dawns on me that I'm really in France.

Yes! You can sometimes forget just where you are when things are new all the time. I happily buy baguette, pate, and choc mousse for dinner and brioche for breakfast the next day. The range of wine is incredible. There weren't many recent vintages stocked in the dairies, you see plenty of 2005, 06 and 07, and nice and cheap of course. The culinary vibe is so impressive, there are some shops that sell two things - meat and wine. Why isn't nz so cool I wonder sometimes?

We decide to buy wine by region every night, we don't really understand the varieties - they're not familiar. So after a brief beer furlough in Brussels, the Hague and Amsterdam, we're back onto sumptuous red wine.

Paris is showy and impressive. A lot of the grandeur seems to have been put together by short and egotistical kings and emperors. We visit the Louvre, Sacre Coeur, Notre Dame, Versailles, Tour Eiffel, Champs Elysee as well as plenty of wandering (in between buying stripey, modish clothes).

At the Louvre, I found all the visitors jostling for a photo of the Mona Lisa more interesting than the lady herself. Crowds stood there clicking away with flash photography, while the museum officials stood next to the painting and flirted with each other. It is France after all I suppose.

I love seeing what the patisseries and boulangeries make. Kate bought a baguette from the best baguette maker in Paris. I wanted to get one too, but had to buy another croissant and an eclair instead. We live off baguette pretty much, and I am very content with this.

On our last night we treated ourselves to a meal out. I had tartar boeuf, which basically looks like a good quality rissole that hasn't been cooked. The waiter asked 'are you sure?' several times when I ordered. It was pretty yum though, it had capers hidden inside. I have now eaten raw mince.

The French are stylie without a doubt and many shops are great. The backstreets of Montmartre I liked in particular.

What else? It was fun to be able to understand bits and pieces, but most people didn't understand at all when I spoke in French. I found some people friendly, and others not so much. We heard so many rudeness horror stories before arriving, I was a little nervous. We met one French Canadian fellow in Paris who spoke of some pretty rough treatment. Some Parisians at least think they are half deities, and everyone not French is mud.

But on the plane to Munich I sat next to my favourite French person. She was hilarious, had read Janet Frame, and was definitely unusual compared to her compatriots. The turbulence started, and she said 'I think we better get drunk.' She hated all the manifestations of French arrogance and pride. She thought the French were good at only two things, complaining and protesting. She was also very impressed that I knew what a Sauvignon Blanc was.

In the end, and all things very seriously considered (including French people), think I could live in Paris. Oui?

Now I've been to London once before, but I had a think and realised that this visit was nearly ten years ago now. There's always something going on in this city, and as a Kiwi, there are always lovely old friends to visit too.

We flew into Stanstead airport and slept there the night. The flight arrived just after midnight, and we thought it'd just be easier to find a cozy spot at the airport for the night, save a bit of money and do a bit of classic backpacker.

There were people trying to sleep everywhere. Unfortunately the floors were tiled (i think this is on purpose), and between 1am and 3am is evidently the optimum time for earsplitting drilling into new things at the airport.

We camped in a corner, but were woken up by a very friendly staff member at about 4am - the airport was processing people again, so it was time to rise and shine, and to move on.

The airport man spoke marvelous English, everyone does here, after so many languages to wrangle with, it's strange and empowering to be able to understand background chatter, AND the conversation you're part of right now.

We stayed with my friend Leah, which was a super treat. She and Chris looked after us very well indeed, and it was marvelous to be able to make a cup of tea just whenever.

The British Museum showed us all the bits that had been missing from the Acropolis in Greece, and ruins in Egypt. Even if these items were disgracefully pillaged years ago by adventuring Brits, the artifacts are dispalyed and explained 100 times better than their countries of origin can manage, especially Egypt.

We wandered up and down the Thames, gazed at St Pauls and nosed around the yum Borough Market (where Jamie O likes to buy his veges). Leah shouted us to high tea at the Dorchester Hotel, just next to Hyde Park. Just wow. Maximum poshness. I think that is the most Britishesh thing I've done. Cucumber sandwiches, macaroons and scones like you've never tasted people.

To Amsterdam for the weekend, colder again, but with new and undiscovered charms. The buildings by the canals really are crooked, and attractively so. The canals are dirty, but the countryside is beautiful just to balance up.

The bathroom at MacDonalds cost $1 to use, a big black mark.

We meet some more friends here, Ed, Damian and Matt, and they looked after us very well too. The boys had a car, so we stayed in the Hague, and got to go to Amersfoort , to sleep over a pub on the night of Euro Cup final (when we couldn't find anywhere else to stay but in Amersfoort) and after we drove to Brussels too.

The boys didn't even protest too much when it was discovered that I had programmed the wrong destination into the Tomtom and set us back 30 kms. Only a teeny weeny bit of complaining.

The Netherlands isn't just any old country to me, so I'm very glad to see it. Most of my church family members from my youth up have had a Dutch connection or three. It's a cool country, with querks and some shocks too.

I'm sitting in the hostel cafe at present and there's a world cup warm-up match on, with lots of people in here watching. I can therefore say with some authority that the locals are unreasonably loopy about football.

While we are here my four kiwi companions begin speaking baby Dutch, the words they learned from their parents when young, mixed with new words they've picked up from the locals. I don't understand them much anymore.

We had a look at the Heineken factory, which was well done. Has anyone noticed that the e's are 'smiling' e's in Heineken? Had a peep at Anne Frank's house as well. The poor girl, dead at sixteen after all those years of fear and loss. I should read the diaries at the very least.

Brussels was to me beer, chocolate and waffles - and a free hotel with huge neverending breakfast courtesy of Ed's sweet hook ups. So we all quite liked Belgium. We went to a pub with a grand total of 2,004 beers on offer, we tried about 20 before adjourning to our hotel rooms. The waffles and chocolate were unspeakable delicacies. We had crepes for brunch on arrival, Brussels is so French - I had forgotten that. The boys had flaming Grand Marnier poured on theirs, which they were quite pleased with.

I hop into the elevator and people speak French to me, I haven't tried since I was at school and sixteen, so I chuckle afterwards to myself.

It is in the Netherlands that I realise I have less than 1 month to go. I think it's because the Kiwi boys are staying to travel for a year more or so. I can't believe we're coming home soon. And that I have to work for a living. Mixed emotions are indeed taking me over.

Italy, how can I do you justice?

I know it may be a tacky, kitsch, chandelier cliche, but Italy has to be one of my favourites for so many excellent reasons.

For instance, in Rome, men stroll along the street smoking cigars. In the morning! Most impressive. In Tuscany we were given rides up or down the hill we lived on by lovely stranger villagers almost every time we had to walk. In Venice the locals drink champagne before midday in the main piazza. Now, how is it possible to compete with these kinds of characteristics?

In Rome, when the sun sets, the bronze statues high up on top of palace and church cupolas come alive. These things are massive, and are often angels with broad wings on chariots, reining in raging horses. If the sun sets in the clouds behind these magnificent statues, they truly look like they are coming down from heaven. Extremely clever, creating a skyline that reminds you quite emphatically that you can't be anywhere else right now but Rome.

But I've talked about Rome already really.

In Tuscany we stayed in a thirteenth century hospital, lodge, abbey. It was situated high on the hills overlooking Florence, among wildflowers and olive groves. It had a spectacular view over the city. On the first night we bring our wine, pesto bread and chocolate onto the veranda and eat our tea watching the sun set over Tuscan hills, and Florence below.

You can tell it gets hot in this region, but it isn't warm yet, and it rained while we were in Florence. But the town is still jammed with tourists looking for the next pretty piazza or fountain, on a quest for Michelangelo's David, or in one of the many galleries and museums. The shopping is good and the leather markets are great in paricular.

Maybe that's my criticism - because we can't just gush about Italy unabatingly can we. The three cities we visited are suffocated with tourists, often Americans - I think they love Italy too. I guess if you don't mind queues, and never being alone in what you choose to go and see, things are just fine. The incredible thing is that I don't think it's even high season yet. You could come here and spend half your time - fairly literally - in queues.

It IS pretty travelling around the little boot; maybe that's Italy's secret to it's seduction. Pretty buildings in the ancient quarters, delightful gardens and postcard countryside. The people seem devoted to pretty, windowboxes and stylish scarves worn. This is the secret, that and the food. Where do I begin on that?

All over the country, stores sell very lovely quaffing red wine for $4 to $6. I am following in my father's fine footsteps, Kate and I have a bottle a night. It's often a bottle of red, sipped from our plastic cups, and with some lovely kind of Italian bread, all as a picnic on the dorm room floor. We try to eat out just once a day.

Think about it people. I'll help you. Espresso, gelato, affogato, spaghetti, ravioli, risotto, pizza, bruschetta, tiramisu, panforte, it all came from this splendid country. Every pizza I eat here takes me to another world. It may help that as my one main meal of the day, I'm starving for it, but, I'm fairly sure the pizza is good too.

We were given some tips for good gelato too, for which I'm very pleased. People, there's gelato and gelato. I have one a day, so I know. The places of good reputation take quality extremely seriously. At these places I had things like caramel - with a hint of ginger, tiramisu, choco of course, raspberry yoghurt and banana. Kate and I always get at least two kinds each, because when will be in Italy again? You just never know, maybe we need to consume 10 years worth of good gelato.

Venice is exquisite. One traveller told me before we went that it smelt, others said it was expensive. It smells of sea water yes, fairly predictable that one, and agreed it is pricey here. But how can you mind?

Shop windows are carefully decorated, so you can be enticed day and night. Gucci, Prada, Chanel, Salvatore Ferragamo, masquerade masks and glass jewellery... and food. Bay windows line hundreds of twisting alleys, which are interrupted now and then with a little arched bridge over a canal. I think there are 400 narrow canals in Venice, and one Canal Grande where the giant cruise ships go up and down.

Getting lost is quite important in Venice, that's how you find new places. It's terribly easy to lose your way, I can assure you. But walking the alleys, smelling espresso, then baking, then focaccia, then leather, then pizza, how can one lose one's composure? - even if we are lost again.

It's almost a magical theme park for tourists here. They've been coming to Venice for 400 years. In the great square, Piazza de San Marco - which houses the apostles bones I believe - mini orchestras attached to cafes/champagne bars battle it out for crowds using Bizet and Vivaldi to great effect. One violinist is so passionate he skips many notes as he bounces up and down on his toes. The waiters are all in white tuxes, and the square arches are bordered with cream Venetian blinds. Napoleon apparently called the square the finest drawing room in the world.

How unoriginal, and I cringe, but Italy and your three carousels - Rome, Florence and Venice - I love you. I hope I'll be back in a car one day to eat your food and sigh at your landscapes again.