ab-solutely flabless

I’m early for Body Balance and as I stand outside the aerobics studio (do they still call it that?), I’m suddenly aware of how undignified group exercise is. For starters, they insist on making the doors glass so that passersby are welcome to gawp in as you jump about looking like you’ve decided to have your face painted to resemble a ripe tomato. I can hear the instructor shouting instructions above the blaring music but she is hidden from my view and I’m watching two girls who have decided that Step class will be their voluntary torture for today. One looks fairly competent , if even a bit over-confident, while the other…oh dear… oh dear.This girl is clearly a first-timer and she is spinning, flailing her arms and bouncing up and down at all the wrong times, then glancing over at others in the class to see if she is the the only one who wants to run screaming out of the door, never to return. You see, the key to safeguarding your dignity in a gym class is not whether you know the moves but looking confident and never, never standing in front of the doors where everyone can see you. I catch the girl in front of me sniggering as she witnesses this display of incompetence.

We’re up next and I casually walk into the class as others push past me in a stampede towards the exercise mats. I calmly dispose of my excess belongings, retrieve a mat and go to claim a spot. But Oh No! I’ve played it too cool and now the only space left is…in front of the glass doors. So while I find myself in full “downward dog" and it’s a free for all Rox’s-bottom-in-the-air show, I ask myself why we put ourselves through this? Surely there is a better way to achieve this ultimate physique for which we strive – solid abs, a perky bum and triceps minus wings. Is it all worth this?

An hour later, when I walk out feeling well stretched and patting myself on the back for dedicating a whole hour of my day to my health and well-being, I decide it is. No matter how humbling the odd class might be, it sure beats running on the spot for an hour.

the joys of travel (and a bit about athens)

On reflection of our recent trips, I'm reminded of a few things I've realised about travelling over the years.

Firstly, you just have to accept that you are going to spend a lot of time in airports. My anxiousness usually starts when I head towards security and realise I've forgotten to remove a bottle of 120ml deodorant from my bag. Do I try and sneak it through? Do I declare it and watch some airport official on a power trip shake their head and give me a "you know better than that" look? Or do I avoid the whole debacle altogether and just dispose of it myself and make no attempt to take a stand against the "terrorists" who I am cursing all the way for causing me all this undue stress. It's inevitable too that an item of my jewellery will then set off the metal detector and I will be violated by another official who wishes it were them going on holiday and take it out on me. So I endure the aforementioned torment with gritted teeth and then locate the nearest Starbucks, order a latte and allow myself to relax. Airports and flights take up so much of my holiday that I now ensure I use the time as productively as possible. So, on our last stint, I blogged and read and willed my blood pressure not to rise when the flight was delayed by an hour.

I've also learned to find comfort in crowds of tourists. For all of my wanting to explore places that are "off the beaten track" I realised, on our recent trip to Athens, that when there are no other tourists around I begin to feel a bit vulnerable. If there are others who are talking to the waiter in English while he responds (slightly aggravated) in his native tongue, you don't feel as out of place doing it yourself. When other hoards are heading towards the same historical monument, you know you're on the right track. Yes, they might be annoyingly taking photos of everything and speaking unnecessarily loudly and flashing maps in the middle of the street (pickpocket target right there!) but deep down, we're all the same. We're all strangers in a foreign land trying to savour the experience in our own little way.

All of that said, the things that I will remember most from our trip to Athens are not typically touristy. If I close my eyes, I see the dogs that roam the streets so freely, in particular, the two who guard the crossing at Syntagma Square by night. Some are pets, some are former pets and some have never been pets at all. Has Athens gone to the dogs?
I will remember fondly the night at Bairaktaris restaurant, when the owner came running with a bowl of Greek yoghurt and honey, shouting for us not to leave. Because we had already stood up, he chased a prospective customer from our seats so that we could enjoy dessert, on the house. A cherished moment of Greek hospitality.
On a material note, I can recall the excitement I felt as we stepped inside the Intercontinental Hotel with it's lush lobby and swanky restaurants. Dimly lit and minimally, yet elaborately decorated, there was a sense that unless you were parading Prada or Gucci, you didn't belong. But for three days and nights we did belong and it felt great.
The city itself is covered in graffiti and I felt a bit short-changed by climbing to the Acropolis and finding it covered in scaffolding but it's all part of the experience and there's great value in knowing just how to angle your camera lens.
And when all was said and done and we had checked out of the hotel with a few hours to spare before we had to head to the airport, where did we find ourselves? In the most familiar surroundings in all of Athens. Starbucks, of course.

a taste of tuscany

Having merely whet my appetite with a short visit to Tuscany a few years ago, I was eager to return for a proper taste of all that this enchanting region of Italy has to offer. The scenery doesn’t disappoint mid-April, when the hills roll together to form a landscape too vast to capture with a camera lens. Our flight issues and debates with travel agents were a distant memory as Fox and I began the picturesque drive, in our tiny Fiat Panda rental, from Pisa to Siena. Whizzing around corners, we were captivated by the breathtaking greens and browns intercepted at intervals by fields of yellow mustard flowers. The numerous B&B advertisements dotted along the route are a giveaway that this area is not deprived of visitors yet the sense of tranquillity has by no means been tarnished.

Our first stop was a brief break at one of Tuscany’s characteristic hill towns, Volterra. Behind the city walls lies a typical Tuscan town complete with piazzas, medieval streets and a bell tower that stands proudly in the centre of it all. A quick slice of pizza at Pizzeria del Corso to quiet our hungry stomachs and it was straight on to Siena.

Siena’s quaintness and unrivalled charm make it one of my favourite places in Europe. With its narrow, paved streets enclosed by ancient apartments you wouldn’t be blamed for underestimating the 60,000 population. From the striking Duomo which appears as a vision of black and white, to the red-roofed views seen from the Panorama and the history behind the Palio and the Contrade, there is a lot to be discovered in this town which can easily be meandered across in an hour.
Our afternoon visit to Sam Gimignano was worth the hour drive to experience this most famous of Tuscan hill towns and its scenic views. The town now boasts thirteen towers where seventy-two once stood but it has become a bit of a tourist haunt so not worth a lengthy visit.

Departing Siena two days later, we headed back to Pisa where I still struggle to see any appeal beyond the necessity of having your picture taken in front of the Leaning Tower. So we took our token happy-snaps and boarded a bus for the buzzing city of Florence.

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly why so many visitors flock to Florence. This is not for lack of attractions but rather that there are so many; cafes spill onto pavements on every street; the city holds a collection of artworks so impressive it must make art galleries around the world turn green at the thought; the smell of real leather dominates market stalls; Tuscan cuisine is known to elicit great excitement in chef’s the world over; and there is the world famous statue of David. I did not expect to be so impressed by a single sculpture but it seems that you simply can’t deny the perfectionism of Michelangelo’s masterpiece which proudly dominates the Galleria dell’Accademia (an entire gallery built specifically to house this marble work).
After a few days in Italy we had experienced our fair share of pizza, pasta and far too much gelati. Gelateria entice with their lush displays at every turn and during a hard day of walking who can resist a scrumptious scoop of pistachio or almond...or both? After wandering aimlessly up and down Via dell’Isola we were unable to locate the ‘most famous gelateria in Italy’, Vivoli, and just when I thought Lonely Planet was having a laugh at our expense, it became apparent that perhaps it was just our ability to decipher the Florence building numbers that had failed us.
A stroll through the grand Biboli Gardens, to my delight, was free on the day we decided to picnic amongst its statues, fountains and terraces. After five days in Italy, the only drawback was that the British Pound just doesn’t go as far as it used to in Europe so a freebie was perhaps more welcome than usual.

There are few places to which I would consider returning when there is still so much of the world to see. Tuscany, however, is so unassumingly addictive that I suspect one can only keep cravings at bay for so long until a return visit is once again on the menu.

a highland fling

In our relationship, the differences between men and women are never quite so obvious as when it comes to making decisions about travel. Having left our Easter weekend plans to the last-minute, Fox and I made a spontaneous decision to take a tour of the Highlands. With it being a long weekend, we were left with little choice but to endure a gruelling nine hour bus ride to Edinburgh and back. We also opted for a Wild in Scotland tour which covered an extensive part of the Highlands over a course of three days. Since I’d left Fox to organise majority of our trip I was not at liberty to comment too much on the choice of tour or accommodation but it is no secret that our ideas of travelling ‘comfortably’ differ somewhat. Although pleasant enough, being guided by a wacky kilt-clad Scot in a minivan with fourteen fellow travellers and staying in hostels probably would not have been my first choice.
Nevertheless, from Stirling through Glencoe and onto Skye, we found ourselves in the most isolated setting I’ve ever experienced. My sense of peace, however, was shattered approximately five minutes later when we were told that the Glenbrittle hostel, which was to be our first night stopover, required girls and guys sleep in separate dorms. It was at this moment that I declared the final nail had been hammered into the coffin wherein lies any future hostel prospects.
The following morning we hiked up through the Cuillin mountains for a soggy but spectacularly scenic Easter egg hunt and then drove along Loch Ness to Drumnadrochit for our second night. To my delight, Fox had booked us into a B&B for the evening and as the rest of the group filed into the backpapckers I resisted the urge to squeal with delight at the thought of a comfy ‘bed bug free’ bed and a full Scottish breakfast. On arrival at the Aslaich B&B, the friendly owner welcomed us and after a bit of ‘housekeeping’ presented us with a bottle of champagne, congratulating us on our honeymoon. I’m still not sure how we managed to hide the confusion from our faces, or perhaps we didn’t and she just took it as surprised gratitude. It was later that we discovered that Wendy, who runs the backpackers and is mildly eccentric, decided that she would tell the B&B owner that it was our honeymoon and score us a couple of freebies. In my defence, I would like to say that I was not the one who decided it was okay to drink the champagne. However, I can’t deny that I too enjoyed partaking in it. Come on, a freebie is a freebie! I somehow managed to abstain from wincing when we were wished a continued good honeymoon the following morning. We left as quickly as possible without looking back.
After another day of history and rugged highland scenery which boasts glistening lochs, mountain passes and castles, we returned to Edinburgh feeling somewhat enlightened. Danny, our guide had spoken much of Scotland’s struggles and if anything, we learned how proud the Scots are of their heritage. Being half Scot, I can’t deny that there is something in me that stirs each time I see the majestic castle up on the hill. We finished the trip with a wonderful dinner at Mussel Inn and then a drink at Brown’s where I was served the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted. And despite our gender differences I think we were both in agreement that this was a pretty great way to end our brief but enjoyable highland fling.

online grocery fiasco

Only yesterday I was harping on about the benefits of online grocery shopping. I’ve taken to doing my bi-weekly shopping at Sainsbury’s online. In case I needed further justification other than I don’t have to physically get off my chair to buy two week’s worth of groceries, it is said to be better for the environment because there is only one van driving to a number of households rather than all those people driving independently to the grocery store. However, it must be said that the number of carrier bags that usually arrive at my door surely counteract the carbon emissions saved. Details, details…

Unfortunately, yesterday’s delivery did not prove as efficient as those that have come before. Fox and I were due to head out for a date and I assured him that the delivery always arrives towards the start of the delivery slot rather than at the end. So we waited…7pm, 7.10pm, 7.25pm, 7.40pm… “Where are these groceries?” I baffled.
When the delivery man finally did arrive, I scanned the till slip to find that a large proportion of my choices had been ‘substituted’. For those of you who are unfamiliar with online grocery jargon, if an item is unavailable you can give permission to the store to find suitable substitutes on your behalf. Usually the substitutions are close enough to the original item for me not to worry but this time I was perplexed by what was sent.
Is it unreasonable to think that Ben and Jerry’s Half Baked and Baked Alaska, on special at 2 for £5, is simply incomparable to Sainsbury’s own-brand toffee and vanilla ice-cream? Ben and Jerry’s is not just ice-cream; it is an indulgent dessert in an appealing little tub full of deliciouness.
I also ordered two bottles of wine. Both were fairly decent bottles - on special - for which neither I was willing to pay full price. It is then evident that I have only selected these particular bottles because they are half price so when one isn’t available, surely the obvious alternative is another bottle of the same quality, also on special. Instead, I was sent a different bottle by the same winemaker at full price. Who pays full price for wine at the supermarket? If logic didn’t kick in, they just needed to look to cultural trends.
On top of that, I sent a butternut squash rather than a coquina squash. To be honest I don’t even know what a coquina squash is but I was really hoping to find out. Perhaps another time.
The most amusing was the arrival of one tiny lamb chop when I ordered 'Sainsbury's Lamb Chops x2 (approx. 200g)’. Sometimes the pictures aren’t entirely clear and something might look substantial but it arrives looking fairly measly. I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do with one lamb chop now so perhaps I’ll just freeze it and order another one next time.

As a result of all these replacement items, our groceries cost quite a bit more than usual but on the upside, we did receive a free copy of Radio Times that I definitely didn’t order. I suspect some other Sainsbury’s Online customer is blogging about how a delivery guy with his iPod in, oblivious to his presence as he shifted groceries from crate-to-counter, didn’t deliver his weekly magazine. Or perhaps he’ll just think it was substituted with the coquina squash that he never ordered.