Tag Archives: Travelling

Hannover and the fog

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Ok, so this is the post about Hannover.

Well, I went, stayed for a good 6 hours, came home.

Unimpressed, right?

Sorry, it was the general feeling I got while there. And a sense of frustration too, because I think I might have miss the opportunity to enjoy the trip more, if only… actually, I don’t really know the missing part.

I went once to Hannover, but merely to change train, I even didn’t get out of the station. Last month I went for real, to meet an Italian friend who was there kinda by accident. Since I love the expression “by accident”- it sounds so magical and romantic- I decided to join her. I took benefit by Mitfahrgelegenheit again, and jumped into a car owned by a lovely couple, who drove surprisingly carefully..and slow. I was fine with it, except the fact I was on the back seat with other 2 pop girls, grilling on the window kissed by sun (read sweating) and trying to ignore the swine flu one of the Iphone dependent gal was not-so-gracefully caring (read how come you are still alive with that cough?) in that tiny sealed cubicle.

I wish I didn’t hate the sun, because Hannover was so grey, foggy and dull I genuinely laughed. Mid-May and a poop weather, cheers. It wasn’t the usual reassuring grey I’m used in Berlin but a very wintery, annoyingly humid grey. And cold too.

The city center was basically divided in old town center and shopping area. Very practical, but I didn’t see a smooth integration of the two. I really enjoyed taking pictures around Altes Rathaus but I was reflex-free so my poor mobile wasn’t working great with all that grey and dark going on.

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Nice is Mashpark, next to the Town Hall, with lake and animals. There I got closed with the inhabitants, and shared a meal with them. We had great conversation about Hannover, the average climate and philosophy.

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IMAG2393We were both anthropologically optimists!

The most enjoyable thing was to meet my friend and have a quality time with her, after months just talking remote (but thank you Skype); I got so many good vibration just by her company and stories, it reminded me of the energy I had and need to polish out again. Another nice thing I really liked of that afternoon was the break from the fog (fizzy hair, argh!) in the nicest Cafe for coffee and cakes..Yum!

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I think I was basically happy to visit the city, but quite unimpressed by it. Maybe the missing part was what’s beyond the fog.. weather, maybe next time better, will you?

Gärten der Welt: the world in a park

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I wrote this for a trial at a company not so much time back, it’s addressed to budget travellers… but couldn’t wait to publish it because of the pictures correlated.. you know I embrace the #parklife style! Shorter than usual, I hope you enjoy it!

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It’s part of any travellers experience to find a genuine place in the city you’re visiting, without the help of your precious, detailed guide. It usually happens when you jump on a tram by instinct or take the wrong path or just get a hint from a stranger. Your choice might lead to a wonderful place.

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It takes a bit of time with public transports to arrive to Gärten der Welt in Berlin Marzahn but it’s worth the diversion from Berlin city center. This park is a lovely interpretation of a green, open, family-oriented space with six areas designed to experience different gardens from all around the world. While conceived to be a breathing break from the contrasting, outmoded, yet significant DDR’s buildings all around it, Gärten der Welt gives the possibility to have wonderful flights of fancy.

You walk and you are projected in an Italian terrasse during Renaissance;

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an Arab glance, with spouting fountains and ceramic tiles;

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a Chinese restaurant and lovely area, around the lake, where to sip a black tea;

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a Japanese zen portion, to find an inner balance looking at the wavy modelled sand;

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a Korean sanctuary to transport you back in time;

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a Balinese indoor space, where orchids take the stage in a steamy hot.

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Finally the newest element is a square called the ‘Christian Garden’ with suggestive open closter made of words from the Holy Scriptures, but also from philosophy and literature. Highly suggestive and incredibly inspiring for photo amateurs, like all the rest of the park.

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There’s is a small fee to pay (4 Euro) for this unique experience to get lost in time and space, while being comfortably pampered with cafes, recreational spaces and green fields to rest from the adventure that is Gärten der Welt, our world in a single park.

P.S. Yes, I had to take the pictures with my mobile phone, that is smart but doesn’t quite honour the place when it’s cloudy. Sorry for the quality, my camera, karma-foolish, died at the entrance just after I paid the ticket. Prost.

BRB, friends.

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I had the pleasure, recently, to embark myself in a great adventure on the other side of the world, also experiencing to be in three continents in less than 24 hours. It was sci-fi for me, few years back to even think about that.

And now I did it and it was a-w-e-s-o-m-e.

I am currently recovering from the jet lag, the rush of being back to an ordinary life and the urge not to get depressed but I can’t wait to write about it and pass the dream to you, friends.

BRB, I promise.

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…A preview…

Britzer Garten in Berlin

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When you live abroad it is easier to be amazed by your surrounding, especially when you take a path different from what the guide suggests or when you just follow the ‘locals’.

There is something magic when you get lost and just browse around, following your guts, spirit, mood, or simply people. I really trust local’s taste, as much as you know if a restaurant along the street is good from the number of trucks there are parked. So locals, as much as truck drivers know their stuff.

Two years ago, while wandering with my bike, I stumbled in this park, Britzer Garten, South Berlin. I went back in a sunny day and the wonder still lives there.

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It’s an amazing time for taking pictures right now, the light is good but not too bright, the days outside get longer and warmer and the blossom is pure joy for a pics-aholic. On a sunny day, this park is the perfect combination, highly recommended!

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Britzer Garten is a lovely residential neighborhood, between Mariendorf and Britz-Neukoelln where all around there are small houses and beautiful garden. Birds sing all the time. It’s quiet and human-sized. The location is out-of-peek for tourists, the result is the total absence of temporary ‘ich-bin-ein-Berliner”- claimers. And it is still nice to find place like that, in a big first-come-first-served city.

During May there is a kind of party going on in the park, people celebrates tulips: colourful wild tulips, choreographic tulips, mix-race ones. It’s a delight walking along the paths and admire the wild tulips and many other flowers, in lovely compositions: words cannot explain the feelings when it’s sunny. It’s pure life and balance. It’s the detail that gives meaning.

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The park itself show a perfect combination space/green/visitors, there are several fields, playgrounds and a functional services around the lakes, benches, platforms and chairs along the way. You can rest while watching funny ducks in love chasing one another on the water, kids playing on the fields, ladies having an ice cream or a bratwurst in one of the many kiosk. This park states: please come, walk, rest, have the best of time. And the pictures explain it better than words, indeed.

 

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 In a sentence: Britzer Garten, happy place for the soul.

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Bremen, oh Bremen

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What happened to the early months in this 2013? I guess Winter has stolen January, February and March away . I felt like the cold season took possession of my actions and put the travelling side grounded for yelling several times “Will you end soon, darling?” but instead of darling a less flattering word…

Despite all the attempts, buds are back on the trees, so I am back on the road. And I’m done with weather complaints too, pinky promise. So I thought of give-it-a-go to more internal short trip, reaching destinations in Germany that I still haven’t been to. There are so many lovely cities all around!

Bremen is out of question one of the most beautiful cities in North Germany, pearl of the Hanseatic area. You can’t disagree with me if you go there, especially if you hear the old fashioned name, Freie Hansestadt Bremen. So much pride in it.

The jewel is Altstadt, the old town, with its main square, a lovely Town Hall with cheeky kamasutra decorations on the facade (have a deeper look pervs), and the main cathedral. Next to the Rathaus, the town hall, there is the symbol of Bremen, the statue of Die Bremer Stadtmusikanten directly from the Grimm’s Fairy Tales; it’s smaller than you imagine but the statue still has a special something around its four lucky-charms animals (a hint: touch both of donkey’s legs, not just one!).

I’d love to share the pictures of this picturesque part of the city, if I’m not wrong it’s not by mistake Unesco world heritage site, but my beloved sim card was corrupted and something like 50 pictures went lost. It’s been few hard days mourning the loss and my idiocy too (I didn’t realised it).

Alrite, time to speak less touristy, more valery.

3 things attracted me most:

1. To see flowers on the park, in spite of the cold weather. That’s promising and so positive you just want to smile. Some rays of light were also pretty much appreciated.

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2. To visit the Schnoor: everything you want to see from an old Northern village, petite version. Bremen is very charming itself, but this small portion gives you an idea how beautiful everything was a century ago. Sloped walls, narrow streets, colourful houses, shops, products, paintings, people, stones, bricks and wood…everything in the smallest square meters ever. Cozy!

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3. Das Viertel: it’s the place to go for young people. Quite Berlin style, laid-back bars, bakeries, a ridiculous amount of restaurants, place to drink the two official beers, Becks and Haake Beck, both super delicious. Talking about drinking, along the river, there are lots of biergarten, the right place to be when sunny!

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Note well: two other places were remarkable:

Neustadt and its deco-liberty houses:

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Teerhof, a kind of isle/peninsula in front of Altstadt, a cathedral of brick buildings in a modern and hipster context. I reckon I wouldn’t mind to live there!

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Let’s end this blog by highly suggesting a weekend in Bremen: people are incredibly helpful and nice, the old part is charming, the city is very quiet but still there are lots of places to hang out. And everything is quickly reached on foot.. Ahoy!

Leftovers ‘012: Copenhagen

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In a pure spirit of cleaning up my hardware I leave you a leftover of my travels; this happened in July and was entered in a writing competition few time ago… see its marked jeering/drama self tone.

Enjoy.

There’s a place I didn’t want to be, better, to end up to.
It all happened this Summer I still can’t figure out a concrete explanation: there’s no reason, guilt or moral sentence to understand what happened, so I am just going to put some words down and you will find your own meaning, ok?
Well, I’ve been having a crappy year so far: fired, dumped, disappointed by many. Travelling is my way to breathe, so in July, moved by another very sad I’m-not-going-to-tell-here episode, I decided to find the best way to visit a city that in the past year played a significant role in my life: Copenhagen.
Like in many movies this city leads to a love story, wait, maybe kind of modern love story: girl meets guy in Berlin, girl adores guy, guy likes girl, guy decides to look for a job in Copenhagen moving with another girl he likes more.
I let you imagine which one of the girls I am. And I reckon it’s a love story only in my imagination. I guess it was the best I could get from my travelling existence: a big heavy heart to carry along with my bones in a big hit-and-run city like Berlin.
So Copenhagen. It took me months to actually put in real a trip that in my mind I had organized almost every night. A part of me wanted to see and understand his choice, the other dreamy one was hoping to bump into each other: and here is the image of me, walking in a light rain along the city center, looking at the buildings and people and meeting his eyes. Again, I reckon I do work a bit too much with my imagination and the irony was I wasn’t even sure he was there at the time. Chance to meet him: 13 to 17%, bad luck included.
In the end this dream was urging enough: I guess sometimes we just have to chase a night dream to see it minimised in the daylight.
With the best disposition I bought a guide, look at the walking tours, booked the cheapest bus ticket, the lamest hostel bed, then organized my two days, like the famous brewery, the Castle, Christiania: I did everything a human being can possibly do to organise a trip, reading the guide so many times I thought I wrote it. That day I left my flat 2 hours in advance, despite the fact that the website of public transports stated the journey was less than 35 min, one metro then one bus. Easy peasy. But you never know with transports, right? Exactly. The bus didn’t show up, neither the following three ones. Something was wrong and so I tried my luck with the metro again, ending in a big station with all the screens saying: all the trains are momentary cancelled due to a central marathon (oh yes, the worldwide famous marathon in Berlin, known by… nevermind). I started saying to myself “Please wait for me, bus”. I really had to catch that bus so I run out looking for a taxi, bike, divine intervention, aliens, teleport. I wasn’t picky at all.
Long story short: I ended up late in Bismarckstraße, Berlin, less than 2 km away from the bus station, with my bag full of hopes and the damn tourist guide. I cried a river in Bismarckstrasse, and I hated everything of it: emptiness, lack of people, inexistence of taxis, just lots of trees and parked cars. This is the place I didn’t want to be, while I was looking for a little redemption or a huge explanation. I had to let my romantic dream leave without me, 2 km away from it, on the pavement of a big West-Berlin street, where the lights of a car shop enlightened my copious tears. I guess it was the wrong trip, even if I really deserved it.
This silly thing called destiny. Or called Kafka. I guess I’ll never try to visit Cop. Just kidding, give me the chance and I’ll do it again, bar the drama queen moment on that street. The place I didn’t want to be could be the starting line. You never know.

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The only picture I took documenting my Kafkaesque evening. Pretty weepy ugly.

December, end of the journey.

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The last month of the year was about going back to my roots.

It was an unexpected, lovely month, started with bad news, ended with good hopes. When I was there to write about a trip I programmed, I was blocked by snow. A December with snow sounds both magical than inspiring, and puts you on the right track for the holidays..

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Frankly, it has been a quite difficult year for me, as I experienced the hugest-for-humans amount of nos and disappointments, which put me poorly in a miserable state all the time; the snowflakes spinning and spinning over my thoughtful head could have been seen as another impossibility to move, to improve, to heal. Au contraire, I read it as a “take it slow, have a break” epiphany. That was the best choice, so to be able to enjoy the cold weather, take some quality time for photos, Christmas lights, markets and presents. Loads of presents for my family and friends (the secret is to wrap everything!).

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After several years I celebrated with my family, back from where I started with the dreams. I managed to clean up my old room, finding treasures from my teenage messy period.

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It was overall a feeling of tenderness, a sweet way to keep going and doing. Because. Because I’ve done a lot to get where I am now, because there are so many things to do and experience, so many words to find deep inside yourself.

Snow in Berlin, fog in North Italy. That cold Winter holidays time reminded me to find my own way to move, keeping my existence in action.

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Viktoriapark in the snow, Berlin

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Ponte degli Alpini in the fog, Bassano del Grappa

2013, I salute you with a smile, we’re going to do great things together. Onwards and upwards.

November: Padova

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I waited a bit before writing this chapter, in part because i was expected to travel more, but also because I didn’t want to tell about November in a very personal, quite cheesy way.
Since a blog is personal, alright I’ll spill the beans you about my trip back to Padova.

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I spent four years at University in Padova, enjoying almost every minute of it. The city is home of one of the oldest University in Europe and the centre is a lovely mosaic of squares, beautiful buildings, street markets and porches.

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God only knows how much I missed walking through the porches. A porch is protection from rain and sun, selection of sight, meeting with strangers: there’s more contact on a porch than on a normal pavement, you can feel the humanity and the history that the columns have been holding.

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The reason I went back was a special wedding/celebration. Imagine that:
A friend of mine, after 5 years at University left to find better luck in New Zealand; there he met a Japanese gal, they fell in love and lived together. For a cruel matter of visa, they both had to go back to the home countries. They stayed together almost 2 years, seeing each others when possible, here and there. I remember talking with my friend before one of his trip to Tokyo: he was working an average of 14 hours per day in order to save enough money to live there for a month. He wasn’t complaining at all about that, actually couldn’t hide his joy to hug soon her dream girl.
Eventually they managed to get visas for Canada and moved for good. They got married in June without many among family and friends and so this November they organised to travel and celebrate their love with the Italian side; next year they’ll do the same in Japan.
Love always finds its way, when determination holds on.

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Now, I could I miss this occasion? My friend and his beautiful bride reminded me how simple true feelings are even in the difficulties. I’ve always been touched by choices made with the heart and I felt like I wanted to be part of that party, so to convince myself that happy endings are still possible.
Yes they are.

Goodbye Italia, goodbye memories.

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P.S. Still, no room for my camera in the hand-luggage, forced to take pics with my decent not-so-much-brilliant camera. Apologies for the quality, feel free to insult me for the lack of professionalism.

P.P.S. I’ve come to the age that I travel to see people getting married and have child. What’s my age again?

October: Cambridgeshire

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To come home from a theatre after watching a pleasant romantic comedy and have the urge to put some thoughts down on paper, that may occur, but not so often.
Tonight it’s happening and so here I am, writing my October trip, mixing the feelings about it.
On one side, there is a sad story to tell; on the other one, there is love. The intense full-fitting one.
During the past month my life was put in an eternal soaking mode, like inside a huge washing machine. I kept turning and turning in vain, while watching the world from the viewing panel. That bloody machine was stuck in a cycle, when all I wanted was a rinsing and a bit of sun to dry up and feel the warm again on my skin.
I eventually had the chance to get out of it, but that meant to leave London, at least for a while. This is where the sad story ends, and the most compelling one begins.
I packed everything, hugged my friend, said goodbye and got on a train. Everything in the goofiest and less romantic idea you have in mind, since I was carrying something like 40 Kgs (or if you better prefer to think as a British 88.18342151675485 pounds – British is nothing but rational, right? Beg you pardon, you disagree? Would you enjoy someone to measure you with his (probably dirty) thumb, arm and foot? Yeah, neither do I).
From the big city to a village, passing by the countryside: sweet hills and brown ground, trees delimiting enclosures. From time to time, animals eating tons of green grass.
Destination? Cambridgeshire.

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There are many things I like in that specific village in the Cambridgeshire: I like the fact that there is somebody’s grandma not far away from where you are; I like the fact that at the center you find the intersection of the two main streets, both guiding you to the main cities at their end and one of four is always Cambridge, another one London; I like kids going home by foot and bikes, even if here they are absolutely less noisy than I remember I was (apologies, I was, erm, just “full of life” maybe? And easily appealed by screaming too).
Visually, the center is made by the church with cemetery, supermarket and shop. Then what? Nothing much, some other shops, hairdressers and few pubs.

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Then little cute houses, pretty gardens, cars parked outside, the school and in two minutes countryside.

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In few days there I became a great fan of walking from the school park to the railway: I met so many smiling people there, with dogs or without, that helped me to remind there are still people out there not afraid to say hi to a stranger. Faith in each others, one thing that you forget if you are a town girl in a big city.

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It is sometimes just a matter of places, other times of people. In this case it’s a fair combination between the two: I stayed in a house where I felt the sense of family that I’ve been quite missing lately: ball in the garden to play, a cuckoo clock at the entrance, family portraits, fresh bread, kettle ready, tv on. Details are little, reassuring part of living in a village, where houses are small temples of affection.

An old song says:

“But a room is not a house
and a house is not a home
When the two of us are far apart
and one of us has a broken heart”

(A house is not a home, B. Bacharach and Hal David)

Now, how can I write about a broken heart? There are no words. I simply can’t. What I can do is to write about that heart itself. It has witnessed love and hope, before experiencing the biggest sorrow.
You must be kinda lucky to find and mostly hold love as much as possible in your life. But I was lucky enough to spend time in a home that showed me love, the really full-fitting, long-term one, even if now rooms are pretty empty and hearts are really heavy to carry along. But I saw love and dedication and support in every detail of those four walls, maybe now in a bit more silent way.

I really hope silence won’t win this struggle.

Still, even in the middle of a silent broken heart transition, I did felt the love, and it was warm and bright, despite the dull British weather outside. Cheers.

P.S. Apologies, all the pictures this time were taken with my mobile, the low quality on screen disappoints.

September: Bristol

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Why on Earth has nobody ever told me that Bristol is a lovely city?
Actually, more than lovely, the epitaph I created after this September trip was: “Bristol is a very beautiful and, despite being on English soil, happy city.”
Well, after some weeks in London, a bit discouraged by the events not turning into luck, I chose a ‘tropical’ destination for a cheap 1 day holiday to clean my mind and find new motivations.
Well, that road trip really made the difference!
The past few days before leaving had been a bit colder and grey than usual, I was about to put my grumpy mode on, complaining that Fall was coming soon and it was not fair Summer was always too short and bla bla bla. Never been so wrong.

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Early bus, cappuccino to go on a hand and mobile with reservation on the other one (yes, I try to do my best entrance every time I approach a ticket inspector or driver, I just can’t help it, imagine with a smartphone now, so modern and posh) I spend the trip listening to boosting-up music (I admit I put on loop Jay-Z’s Encore for a good half an hour, no clue why) taking some pictures of the countryside in the best harvesting time, fantasising about my childhood, where one of big challenge was to climb those huge good smelling bales with friends, and to do it in the quickest time possible.
The ride was really short, and I particularly enjoyed passing by Staines, I mean Staines, wow, huge metropolis where the great, greatest Ali G. was born and raised and shone and basically rulez my heart. If you don’t know who Ali G is, change page immediately. I mean it.
Well, a bit of introduction about the trip; I personally know a bit England, been in many places but never South-Westbound; back to August, London was proudly hosting the Olympics and the city was a fervent place to be, full of collateral interesting exhibitions and activities to take part. From one of this I got to know about a buzzing street art festival in Bristol, and took the gamble to go and watch out in person. So glad now!

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Basically, the festival was hosted in one of the central street of the city, very close to the pedestrian shopping area, Nelson St., where the not very flattering buildings along this street, that happen being the way to get to the harbour, turned mainly grey by the time, were re-living again thanks to the passion, phantasy and genius street artist from all around the world put to re-qualify the area. Mission accomplished!

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Nelson Street now glows of light and energy, everything matching with the surrounds and the place was full of youngsters and street art lovers, really please to have been there.
You might wonder, why do they do a street art festival in Bristol? Easy peasy. A guy called Banksy is from there. Never heard of him? Well, time to change blog again, sorry mate.
1 + 1  makes two, so I walked along the city to find his previous works, and I was kinda playing hiding and seeks with him, while enjoying the city center.

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I liked many things in Bristol: the area along the river is brand new and well renewed, quiet but also vibrant, with bar boats and the walking path; the bars and restaurants offer at an affordable price the possibility to enjoy a meal outside, much appreciated; I saw coloured houses, a delicate difference from all the brick-over-brick mental idea I’ve made of England; street art is everywhere and loved; it’s  student city, and you can feel it, and this give a plus to everything because it generally means more open-minded people. And more bikes. Or boats.

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It might have been because it was sunny all day long, but I give a huge 10 to this trip, that really helped me finding new convictions and strenght to go on pursuing my dreams to move to England on a more long-term basis.
It’s like when you feel down, and your head spins and spins and you struggle to find a new point of stability: I think on this occasion the best thing to do is to stop looking for it, have a break and breathe a different air, even if for just one day.
Bristol was my fresh air, after that I felt ready to go back and fight. The result in October…

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