Oh, Italy...

Can't stop me once I start kids, so this is the (censored) Tale of the Three Cinque Terrors on tour last month, and thanks again for bearing with me...

It was an unexpected and divine gift to return to a place I had loved so very much, and experience a feeling of coming home. A 28 hour journey consisting of three plane rides (read MANY airport hours) three taxi trips and two train changes with all our luggage ended with our arrival in the charming seaside town I'd recommended so enthusiastically to my friends to a deluge and dangerously dark skies, rivalled only by poor New York at the moment. My poor old heart did skip a few beats, and I prayed as the flash flood welcomed us that this wouldn't mean my life flashing before my eyes, as I had watched footage of last October's floods in the Cinque Terre with no small amount of trepidation.

However, fortune favours the brave, and whilst we were treated to seven kinds of weather, often on the same day, we had the most marvellous time imaginable. My friends, thankfully, loved everything about the town and terrain and people as much as I had previously, and good times were had by all. We walked, cycled, swam, ate, drank, laughed, gossiped and some of us (no names mentioned) flirted outrageously with the men we met, but it was all good, clean fun. Although, did I detect a tear in the dishy hotel manager's eye when he kindly brought our luggage down on the day of our departure!?

If Italy is the seat of civilization, why wasn't I born there? The pace of life in our little town moved to it's own gentle rhythm, mostly by bicycle. Locals cycled, walked and threw themselves into that alluring Ligurian Sea with gleeful abandon, when not shopping for their daily provisions.  Yes, just enough for the day's meals, either at the little speciality shops turning out THE most delicious focaccias, pastas and antipastas, or the covered morning market for the occasional heavenly rotisserie chicken and locally produced cheeses and fresh veggies. And no kids, sorry to say, there was simply not enough time to do justice to all the gelatos, although we really tried! The soft lilt of Italian wafted up to my room at all hours, as did the scent of pine on our mountain hikes between the villages.The freedom to do just whatever we wanted, freed from the constraints of family life and responsibilities (which we all love so well) was equally intoxicating. It was a holiday made in heaven.

Despite the language barrier and being armed with my trusty phrase book marking me out as a tourist, I experienced nothing but kindness and courtesy. Struggling to carry my bike up some steps from the beach one day, a lovely young lady simply came to offer me a hand. Forgetting my purse when I nipped down to buy one of the irresistible riso salads for a light lunch from the excellent supermarket downstairs one day, the young cashier waved me away and said I could pay later. 

The wine tasting we had booked at the local co-op was not only complementary, but a meal in itself with all the delicious breads, olives, anchovies and tapenades provided.

More than that, the spirit and joie de vivre of my friend's 77 year old mother (aka GG, the Glamorous Granny) were infectious and they both made for most enjoyable holiday companions. Youth is clearly all in the mind and a well preserved and exercised body. Yip, I'm hitting the gym in the morning.

Not only that, delighted as I am to have had such an overwhelming response to the return of Suzy Q (take a bow, and thank you all very, very much!) I'm signing up for Na-No-Wri-Mo, encouraged by your feedback to try to finish a book I started some time back. No pressure, just 50 000 words to be written in November. So let's hope afflatus is with me, and hope you will all be waiting for the Christmas Edition of Suzy Q in mid December - bumper edition I promise.

Till then, you take care of yourselves, keep me posted on your lives please, and hang in there, as I'll be back...

With love and thanks for all your support and encouragement,

Suzy (the ever wannabe writer) Q!

xx 

The Somewhat Shamefaced (temporary) Return of Suzy Q...

Buon giorno one and all, and my apologies for not getting back to business sooner. The reasons/excuses are various, but I've heard you loud and clear (you beg too hard) so I'll fill you in...

I did indeed have a wonderful time in the Cinque Terre with fabulous company, but will do a posting on that tomorrow, and am safely home with my family. I hit the ground running on return, with a trip up the West Coast to take Miss SQ No 2 and her mates to their first official rock festival, the charmingly named Rocking the Daisies, now that they've come of age. Well, as usual I donned my unpaid chauffeur's cap, and became The Invisible Woman.  The hype and conversations about what he said and she did or didn't do kept me entertained all the way, until we hit massive roadworks and heavy traffic along the badly timed stop-go system with many other wannabe rockers behaving en route in a manner which did not do their parents proud. The reality of  a whole weekend trapped amongst so many drunken revellers started to sink slowly into the young ladies heads, and an uncertain silence fell over the car.

Poor said little car was soon caked in red dust and competing with the usual "I own the road" SUV's along the rough farm track to the festival. Granted it seemed to be very well organized, but my stress levels were quite high, and a nip at the wine co-op we'd passed earlier was looking rather tempting but for the long road home again. At the drop off point the fledgling rockers had to bail out pretty quickly, and did I detect a note of panic in their voices as they tried to avoid the arcs of male urine already in operation and wonder how they would find their friends with the tent, in the proverbial needle in a haystack?

They all seem to have survived and came home starving, dehydrated, exhausted but thankfully not sunburnt, with no express wishes to buy tickets for Synergy, the next up and coming rock fest. Still you never know, like labour pains, which seem to be forgotten, we all seem to go back again. 

Thereafter, I fell foul of some dreaded lergy, no doubt the result of recycled airline bugs, and was laid low for a while, doubled with trouble from the dodgy knee. Sure, even though I celebrated another birthday while I was away this didn't make me feel THAT much older, did it!? Bearing in mind that I travelled with an almost octogenarian who put us 50 somethings through our paces there are absolutely no excuses for EVER complaining about age, so I'm as young as the sun.

I was, needless to say, very sad, and this is probably the main reason I haven't written for a while, to hear that my opera hopeful didn't pass his audition for the UCT Opera School. There seems to have been a misunderstanding or beurocratic bungle, or maybe he simply didn't make the grade (he had 'flu on the day of the audition) but, what can I say, I had such high hopes for him and hate to see his ambitions dashed, even though I've told him of my motto to "never say die."

But all that to say, hello again and thanks for your patience. Tales from the Three Cinque Terrors tomorrow...

With love,

Suzy Q xx