Rome was great. The ruins, the piazzas, the green topiary-like trees (names, anyone?), pizzas and amazing Italian wines. Our B&B that was a former palazzo. Gregarious old ladies in black. Deep fried foods. Artichokes. Barolo, mmmm.
Still, we're truly glad to be back home. And none more so than my poor sister C. Her 4.30 pm flight was cancelled because of the air-traffic controllers' strike. Cancelled. Without notice. Without alternative recourse. She was only able to leave with a 6 am flight this morning. I was thankful that my flight left at 7.50 pm, only 15 minutes later than scheduled.
Though the holiday was super, getting there and returning home were low points. Transport strikes. Long queues everywhere. Being at the mercy of indifferent workers such as a super-bitchy signora with fake tan who actually sneered at a hapless French passenger and made fun of a Chinese traveller who couldn't speak Italian or French. Confusion. Miscommunications. My boarding pass said gate B3, the TV screen said B9. At B9, travellers on a Lufthansa flight realised a little too late that their gate should have been B1. Mad dashes and groans of dismay all round. Just when I think I am getting used to living in Europe, along comes something like transport woes to rough it up again. C'est la vie!
And on a very positive note, this morning I saw a comment from Dale, a reader who made Yuk Si from a recipe I posted way back in July 2004. My mum will be really tickled to learn that her recipe was turned into an art performance!
P.S. It's cold here. Forget autumn, it's bloody winter already. A cold wind is blowing through most of Europe and we're not spared. I have to wear ski cap, socks, long sleeved tops and long pants to sleep. Mimi point blank refuses her bed, preferring the bottom of ours instead, and her appetite is bigger now- well, rabbit stew for breakfast would do that to one- and she is now so long her clothes no longer fit! Rufus gets her wardrobe and struts like a tinkling popinjay.