Italy

We've left Italy (by way of the world's crappiest car ferry) and have stopped in Dubrovnik for a bit.
Anyway, I've now got easy access to a nerd-box, so time for a few Italy photos.

This is my first Italian pizza (I'm happier than I look, just bloody melting!). Almost all the pizzas we had in Italy would leave D'Angelo's and Paesano's for dead. They are just fantastic!


In the main food market in Florence. We got there a bit late for the fish, but all the other traders were still going. If you showed an interest in a product, a tasting was very often offered. I spent a lot of time looking very interested.

Check out all that proscuitto.

A whole, roasted pig, to be carved for sandwiches. Good lord I wanted to grab that head and do the bolt!

Unsurprisingly, the rolls here were bloody awesome, but one of the best meals we had in Italy was a roll from a side of the road place, mozzerella (the real stuff), tomato, and roast pork,with a drizzle of oil. Every ingredient was so good it could have been eaten all by itself, but put together, magnificent! That seemed to be case a lot, there didn't seem to be a lot of variety from one area to the next, with the exception of regional specialties, but the ingredients were always top notch. The tomatoes in particular, were always perfectly ripe, tasting as though they had just been picked from Nonna's garden.



No, we weren't served stout in a wineglass, that's iced coffee, made in a cocktail shaker.

The Colosseum. We hung about for ages, but didn't see Russell Crowe. He must've been on a day off.

All over the place were blokes selling fruit and veg on the side of the road, this bloke was on the Amalfi coast, with a Fiat hatch loaded to bursting point. The stuff looked and smelt so good, even a salad (and fruit) dodger like me was tempted!

The Gelati at Bar Pallone, in Calabria. Deena had a number of samples, I fortunately held back, as our visit was used as an excuse to stuff us with food at one of the family homes. Every time I thought we were done, another home made dish or treat was presented. It was sheer hell, but to be polite I ate it all. I felt like a boa constrictor that had eaten a goat at the end, but it was well worth it.

Just to be polite, you see.

Someone was a bit naughty with the Renault and broke a tyre.

I did tell her to take it easy!

The dude below seemed to crop up everywhere, must be a soccer player or something.

Actully, he may be a bit pissy with me after I cut off one of his nuns at a roundabout. Not as pissy as the nun mind you, talk about the 'stink eye'!

Mmmm, Pizza oven.

One of our last meals in Italy included this starter for one, antipasto. The portions were rather generous.

More updates soon hopefully.

Goodbye, Dave.

(We haven't bothered trying to learn any Croatian, too many z's and y's, and eveyone speaks english anyway.)

Into Italy

We left the UK a couple of days after Goodwood finished, which gave us some time to check out some awesomely interesting Jane Austen museums. I must say after the tedium of Ferraris, F1 cars doing burnouts, and sideways rally cars, the chance to stand next to costumes from 'Sense and Sensibility' in one of the houses that Ms Austen lived in for two weeks was a welcome shot of adrenaline.
Deena found it a bit boring, but loving and devoted as she is, managed to suffer through with only minor, muttered grumbles.
One high point of the Austen chasing was a visit to the Cathedral in Winchester where she is buried, which is an amazing building, both inside and out.

The food in the UK was a lot better than we expected, just a little bit more work to find really good stuff than in France. Some of the standouts were the fish and chips, beef and stilton pie, ploughman's lunches (proper English cheddar is really good), and the curries. One of the most impressive things about the food was the emphasis on regionality, which extended to beers. A couple of pubs went so far as to name the butcher, baker, and grocer on their menu, and every town we went to seemed to have a different brand of crisps on offer.
One of the few food brands we saw everywhere was Fosters, they really do actually drink it! Talking to one barman, he was very surprised when I told him that we wouldn't dream of drinking it at home.

We hopped on the ferry back to France after having our car not searched at the terminal by a lady who was more intent on having a natter than anything else. Evidently Deena and I don't look like arms dealers or anything. We were just relieved she didn't find all the Jane Austen souvenirs we smuggled out.
While it was good to get back to France and it's abundant good food, coffee and a croissant, in my opinion, will never stand up to eggs, fried tomato, sausages, bacon, fried bread, and black pudding with brown sauce.

Once back in France we made our way to the Champagne region, stopping a couple of days to take in the Tour de France between tastings and lunches, even staying in a hotel run by the president of the local truffle society, we even got to pat a real live truffle dog!

One lunch in particular stands out, a set menu including buffet salad and dessert, with a serve yourself cheese cart that would've been at home in an expensive restaurant back home. What tipped us off to this place was the tractors and beat up Citroen vans out the front, mind you how any work gets done after a big lunch, a quarter litre of wine, and a digestif, is beyond me. I suspect everyone drove off at the end to have a nap among the vines.

From France we went into Luxembourg, a tiny country jammed in between France, Germany, and Switzerland, and having more awesome roads and beautiful riverside towns (complete with fairy-tale castles) than any country has a right to.

While in Luxembourg we ducked into Germany for the afternoon, for the highlight of the trip for me so far, laps of the Nurburgring Nordschleiffe (Northern Curcuit)!
The 'ring (as we veterans call it) is the 21 km race track that in it's last inclusion in the F1 championship almost ended Niki Lauda's life, and in the years before and since, has killed a lot of people.

Pay 22 euro and you can do a lap at unrestricted speeds, in your registered road car, or bike, with only a seatbelt for protection, how awesome are the Germans! In the interests of safety, prior to our lap I put my thongs on Deena's side of the car, so they didn't move around and get caught in the pedals, then I swiped the card, the gate lifted, and away we went, dicing with Porsches, Elises, other normal cars, and motorbikes (crazy!).
Twelve minutes later, we finished, me bathed in sweat and shaking with exertion and adrenaline, to be told by the boss to get ready for another lap, as she was off to get another ticket. Second time round we went a touch quicker, but called it a day, as the brakes and tyres were about stuffed, and my confidence and aggression levels were increasing, meaning an interaction with the armco wasn't far off. Besides, we still had to drive 'home' on some of those great Luxembourg roads.

Back into France next for a couple of days in the Alps, including watching the Tour on the Col de la Colombiere, cheering on as many Aussies as we could pick out, and of course snacking lightly from time to time.

With all the eating we've done, we have put on a little bit of weight, so decided next to head to the international capital of small, light meals, Italy. We drove through the Mont Blanc tunnel to get here, stopping at the exit to stretch our legs and take in our first view of Italy, and the first thing we saw was a stick-film left at the lookout. Italy really is a full- service country. The second thing we saw was a Pizzeria, they are as thick as fleas on a dogs back here, and really good and cheap.

One of us may have over indulged a little, as the other day, when putting on a pair of shorts, the button exploded off with some force, it wouldn't be right to say who it was. Besides she said she would kill me if I told anyone!

So far we've been to Venice for the day (beautiful buildings, lots of canals and boats, so hot even Deena felt it!), the Ferrari museum, which both of us really enjoyed, stayed the night on the shores of Lake Como, and eaten.
Boy, have we eaten! The aforementioned pizzas, with their thin crispy bases and minimal toppings are so good we could eat them all day. The Venetian speciality, fritture pesca, is bite size pieces of sardines, prawns, occie and squid, and langoustines, coated in a perfectly light and crisp batter, served in a paper cone for a strolling nibble, and salads of buffalo mozzarella and tomatoes so good you can smell them from across the room. Then comes tonight's meal, a selection of salami and hams, followed by risotto, and pork scallopini in a white wine sauce, ricotta cake and affogato for dessert.

Our bellies will soon need their own postcode!

Tomorrow we go to the Lamborghini museum, then head for Tuscany, and Rome in a couple of days, and on to the south, which everyone tells us is so much nicer than the industrialised north.

Apparently the food is ok too.

Ciao, Dave.

Cars

Righto, first things first. If you are not a motoring enthusiast, whats wrong with you?
Oh, you might want to turn the page.

This is part of the racing cars display at the British motoring museum at Gaydon, with the three Monte Carlo minis in the background.
A truly magical place, kind of an Anglo-philes wet dream.
Off in a corner there is a door marked 'Reading Room', I opened it to be confronted by bookshelves full of motoring books. I didn't go in, as I know myself well enough to know that I would probably never get out.
Would have been perfect but for the lack of a toilet and a coffee machine.



While driving along the motorway after leaving Gaydon, I spotted a Warehouse with Prodrive written along the side, we took the next exit and found our way back to the headquarters of one of the world's top rally and race preperation workshops.
For a one pound donation to charity you can go in and look at their collection of important cars, including on the left above, one of Colin McCrae's tarmac cars, and on the right, Richard Burns' Safari car.



On to the three days of Goodwood. Above is a Paris-Dakar truck. Wouldn't need a hoist to do a grease and oil change on that bad boy. A ladder maybe, but no hoist.

One for Garry. If you ever decide on a respray, matt black definately does not suck.

A quartet of genuine works minis ready to hit the forest rally stage on top of the hill. They had everything from current spec WRC and S200 cars, a Paris-Dakar landcruiser, through to a 50's Saab doing timed runs on a 3 kilometre course through the trees, including a jump.

Paddy Hopkirk in one of the above minis, giving it heaps! All the drivers, among them several world champions had a proper go, making the rally stage the most enjoyable to watch.

As with a lot of motoring events, the carpark was as interesting as the action inside, with Ferraris, Lotuses, Maseratis and Morgans just some of the exotics sitting around.

And one Austin campervan.

The Rolls Royce course car. No sense of style these people.

His and hers Veyrons perhaps? The one in the background had a chrome effect paintjob, tackier than metalflake, but I could still have it.

The poor little Renault after three days of Goodwood. Did I thrash it through narrow, winding lanes in the English countryside after all that inspiration? Who, me? Never!

Toodle-pip, Dave.

More food stuff.

Ok, sorry about being slack with the updates, but finding a computer to upload photos on has been a bit tough, besides what am I, an internet journalist, or a fat lazy bloke?

We're in the UK now to do a few car related things, and then will be heading back to Europe soon. Things haven't been as grim as we expected on the food front, some very nice beers, and we had a great take away curry last night.

Anyway, a few photos.


The outdoor grill for a roadside peri-peri restaurant in Portugal, we spotted this while driving past at 90kmh. Surprising just how quickly you can chuck a u turn if you have the right incentive!


This was a plate of whole sardines, floured, fried, and dressed with oil and vinegar, crispy, crunchy goodness from head to tail. Someone needs to get the camera out a bit quicker.

From the same meal, this is Deena's main of local clams in white wine and butter, the bowl ended up as clean as the plate above.

When they described the clams as fresh and local they wern't joking. The next day at low tide the locals were out raking the mudflats for the clams.

Still in Portugal, in the town of Porto. How big is that snot-block!

In the kitchen of the restaurant in the Portugese mountains, tomorrow's goat stew.

Me and the Restaurant's owner being bee nerds.

I tend to expand a lot when I eat, like a puppy, usually I am much slimmer than above. No more full length profiles I think.

In France now, and we have the previously mentioned dog-shit sausages in the background.

They really are a lot better than they smell, and I've finally stopped farting.

The Australian war memorial in Villers-Brettonneux, Northern France.

The last post ceremony conducted every night at eight, Ypres, Belgium.

Al-fresco pee in a Belgian portable urinal. Why aren't these everywhere? So much more civilised than a doorway or car tyre.

After Belgium we went to Amsterdam in the Netherlands for two nights.

No photographs were taken, for legal reasons, and names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Actually, away from the red light district, Amsterdam is a beautiful place, full of canals and bridges, lots of buildings on an alarming lean, and hot dog stands.

That langoustine in the foreground gave me the stink-eye for the whole meal.

In Wales at Gavin and Stacey's favourite chippy. Bloody good cod and chips.

We were going to go for a swim as it was a lovely day, but the tide was out, and we got sick of walking after half an hour.

On the Thames waiting for a water bus, and the most interesting thing Deena can find to photograph is a water police dog with a bad toupee.

Off to Goodwood for the festival of speed tomorrow, so some car pics to come soon no doubt. For now though we are kicking back in our room, enjoying the luxury of watching fifteen year old sitcoms on telly.

My word we are exotic and interesting!

Toodle-pip, Dave.

ps, the poms don't really say toodle-pip, but the do say hiya.