S-and-S

Italy is a new frontier for both of us, for other than breezing through England or Poland, neither of us has journeyed into any of the rest of the European continent. We are excited about exploring a place smaller than the size of our state in Australia, but packed with more cultural uniqueness than we can imagine.

Fortunately, our cheapskate flight (read: waiting lines 400-people long, handwritten boarding passes, and no food or beverages served) lands safely in Treviso, a little town just outside of Venice. We have ten days to explore the country, and as usual, Sandra has a crazy plan in mind. She’s thinking the works- Venice, Verona, Cinque Terre, Rome and Pompeii. Unfortunately, this is a trip over 2500km long, and the driving alone would take us three steady, and long, days. Sharon agrees to a slimmed down version of the trip, taking in everything but Rome and Pompeii, and we set off for our adventure.

The first town that we drive into is Verona, and we are immediately smitten. It is like nothing we have ever seen before, with the mammoth, ancient ruin of a colosseum defining the town centre. From this central point, vibrant, beautiful laneways imitate the sun’s rays and spread in each direction. We immediately head for the ancient wonder- the building is over a thousand years’ old, and touching the stone which shapes it feels rather magical. It is not hard to be transported through the thousands of performances that must have been held here over time.

Grabbing some traditional gelati, we head through a radiant market, snapping hundreds of photos along the way. The homes in this area are beautiful, with vine-like plants weaving their way down from wrought-iron balconies and along cheerfully-painted walls. The vivacity of the village is easily translated through these buildings, as well as through its myriad of classy shops and tucked-away eateries.

Our tour ends at the house of Juliet- yes, she of ‘Romeo and’ fame. We giggle excitedly over the balcony which inspired Shakespeare’s tale, and cast amused glances at the hundreds of visitors vying to rub a brass Juliet’s breast for good luck.

It is time to bid Verona farewell, and we hop back into our car for the curvy drive to the Cinque Terre National Park, which lines part of Italy’s west coast. A dramatic coastline greets us, complete with forests that tumble down mountains towards cliffs which crash into the ocean. Wow. We cruise into a little town at the base of one of the mountains, and take a very leisurely stroll through shops, restaurants, and along the coastline.

Whilst there, we hunt for a pair of glasses for Sandra, whose previous pair met an unfortunate end. We find the perfect set, yet as soon as we head into the sun, Sandra notices a scratch on one of the lenses. We return to the shop for a refund, where we are informed by the owners that they will do no such thing. Unfortunately, as Australians, we are full of silly ideas like consumer rights, so Sharon contests the case. The owners get angry, and threaten to call the police if we don’t leave. Now, we have close friends back home who’ve experienced the Cinque Terre police, and Sandra’s not thinking she wants any part of it. Sharon has other ideas, though, and marches out of the store to get the police herself.

They return with her, baffled by this empowered woman, and we attempt to translate our dilemma. They agree with the shop owners, and suggest that the best we could do is get a refund without the tax. Sharon’s not happy with this, as the owners will get a refund on the tax- so she enlists the help of the shop owner next door. Soon, Sandra is trying to melt into the wall as she watches the huge group gathered in front of her, all yelling and waving their arms ferociously. A conclusion is reached, however, and our refund is given- this is thanks to the second shop owner, who then teaches our troublesome ones how to file a refund. All is well- smiles are exchanges, handshakes are given, and the world goes on as if a big argument did not just occur.

After a night’s rest, we head to our next highlight- Pisa, the home of the world’s most infamous architectural blunder. We take in the slightly nauseating sight of a building trying to lie down, and participate in the compulsory silly-photo taking. Sandra gives the tower a distant grope, and Sharon a decent kick from afar. After laughs have been had, we snake our way through the crazy touts pushing Louis Vutton bags into Sharon’s hands and ponder tomorrow’s Italian escapade.

Relief floods through us when we land in London, a place enough like Melbourne to help us forget about the unpleasant feeling Poland has left us with. Instead of staying with potentially vicious hosts, or in a cold hotel room, we are staying with Sandra’s friend Flippa- the most wonderful, beautiful, generous and loving woman in the world. She should be just the medicine we need to overcome our hurting hearts!

She welcomes us into her lovely home with a huge smile and warm, exquisite cuddles. Sharon, who has not met Flippa before, falls as instantly in love as everyone else and our days are spent chatting, gossiping, giggling and comforting. We have a week until our flight to Venice, and plan to spend as many of the minutes between now and then relaxing and sharing in Flippa’s wonderful space.

A week, however, is a long time- and Flippa does have to go to work during the day. So, what do you think we end up doing with all this spare time in the city of culture? There are theatre shows and markets and festivals and performances and museums and nightlife and…

Food.

Ten dollars if you guess what the highlight of Sharon and Sandra’s time in London is! Well, not really- I mean, give us a break. It’s so very obvious, and we’re not made of money, you know!

Clearly, it’s food. We can hear the murmurs of surprise spreading through the audience there- it’s true, England is not usually associated with culinary splendour. What about France, you’re thinking, or Italy? Places where the point of food is to make it even more divine than the previous serving? Well, these places may have such insignificant things as the globe’s most renowned chefs and the planet’s best cuisines- but England, my friend, has something that nobody could ever compete with…

Quorn.

Quorn? you ask. What, like corn, but spelt wrong? No! Quorn is on a culinary level of its own. It is succulent fish, coated with black pepper and lemon-infused bread crumbs and grilled to perfection. It is tender chicken breasts, gently marinated in a honey-mustard sauce. It is moist cottage pie, with fluffy mashed potato topping a layer of rich, luscious mince. Put simply, it is a gourmet range of to-die-for selections.

Wait a minute, we hear you say. Aren’t the two of you dedicated vegetarians? Yes! And that’s the beauty of Quorn. This is a range that makes even meat-eaters jealous- vegetarian meals recreated with such perfection that Quorn’s red meat variety even makes us gag. Needless to say, we devour enough of the range to make up for our many years at home without.

In between eating, we do manage to head out to a market with Flippa, check out her mum’s awesome art presentation, make plans to kidnap Flippa and bring her to Melbourne, play on the laptop, share laughs with Flippa’s flatmate and best friend, and sleep. A lot. And we always return to eating!

The week is just what we need- our yummy meals, the time we’ve had for snuggles, the comforting day-time television, the unlimited naps, and our special moments with Flippa have combined to make us feel relaxed, healed, and ready for our new adventures in Europe.

A five-hour train trip lands us in Krakow, a land of many promises. Sandra has visited many times, and loved each occasion. From her memories, the city is classy, beautiful and romantic; Poland’s alternative to Paris. We head to the home that we will be sharing with our smiling, friendly hosts for two days, then head to bed, ready for the big day ahead. We not only have sights to see, but a car to buy- our next flight leaves from London, and we need to get our butts across Europe to get there!

In the morning, we set off to one of the highlights of Poland; an underground world built of salt. When Sandra first told Sharon about the Wieliczka mine, she laughed in disbelief; as if a small city could be built out of salt! It doesn’t take long for her to realise it’s true; the mine, which has been out of operation for many years, boasts a convention centre, a dining hall, sculptures, chandeliers, a chapel, lakes and a grand staircase. Everything, from the floor to the walls to the ceiling, is made of salt- with the small exception of the light bulbs! Although pricey, the tour is well worth it, particularly once we’re informed we’re allowed to lick the walls. We take full advantage of that bonus!

We head home and start cooking up a storm with our host, who shares with us the secrets of making killer Kopytka- small potato bundles resembling gnocchi, but served with a sugary sauce or sour cream. We gladly provide laughter to our host, who watches us get covered in flour as we attempt to knead and cut the pieces to the right size. We drool as we devour the results of our hard work, and stash the recipe for definite later use.

Day two sees us exploring Krakow’s beautiful old square. It is one of the most significant locations in Poland to have survived the war, and still holds a classic charm that makes us feel as though we have stepped back in time. Our day is spent doing Krakow the traditional way- eating home-made ice-cream, perving on endless supplies of amber, and stopping every hour to enjoy Polish delicacies. Sandra ends her day by making out with some pigeons, an experience central to any visit to Krakow. The birds are as excited about her as she is about them, and peck away at her ears, through the holes in her crocs, and at her hair. Once the pigeon fix is had, we head home to pack up; it is time for us to say goodbye to our lovely family and meet some new hosts.

As soon as we arrive at our new hosts’ house, we get a vibe that things are going to go wrong. They corner us in their hallway with our bags still on our backs, and berate us for writing introductory letters that were too long, for not specifying that Sandra could speak Polish, and for not calling them from a phone that didn’t have static. A bit shell-shocked, we unload our bags and head warily to the dinner table. It is at that dinner table that the real fun begins!

We immediately notice that the husband in this relationship is an egotistic, power-hungry asshole who loves nothing more than the sound of his own voice. The wife fits his equation perfectly, by only speaking when the time comes to admire him for his intelligence, humour, or other ego-stroking characteristic. We spend the first few minutes politely responding to his questions, until he begins to say some questionable things. By the time he has stated that gay people are only gay because they’re not old enough to realise they’re straight, that all Polish people are unintelligent morons who deserved to be invaded by the intelligent Germans, and that Indigenous Australians are an uncivilised population who have benefited from white invasion, Sandra is doing more than just steaming from her ears. She is not only arguing with him, but arguing well; as a graduate of a Gender and Cultural studies and an old-time debating participant, she knows her stuff inside out and easily defeats his ignorant assertions. Instead of thinking about the points she is making, however, he just gets more fired up; this is clearly not a man used to being challenged.

Now, while Sandra loves debating, there are a few simple rules that she feels need to be followed. Rule number one: listening. The point of debating is to learn, she figures, and to do that, one needs to listen. Rule number two: being able to produce arguments that have a solid foundation of logic. Rule number three: not getting personal. Academic arguments should remain just that- academic. Unfortunately for our male brute, he manages to break each of these rules within the first ten minutes. He speaks over Sandra constantly, breaking rule number one. He then produces an argument with clear flaws, and when it is criticised, responds with, ‘It’s just fact, because I said so’. There goes rule number two. It is when he breaks rule number three, however, that things really turn sour; as soon as he senses he is losing the argument, he offends Sandra’s status as a lesbian, her status as a vegetarian, her status as a female, her status as an Australian for reconciliation, and- this being the breaking point- her status as a Pole. Once he gets personal, all barriers are down- Sandra promptly tells him what she thinks of him (who knew she knew such words?!), walks out, slams the door and packs her bags. With a final verbal dig at them as we walk out of their home, we leave.

The event has shaken us significantly. Sandra is extremely upset, and Sharon is not faring much better. It is night-time, it is raining, and it is cold; feeling a lot worse for wear, we head to the main train station, where economically disadvantaged Polish ladies are always attempting to hire out their rooms for extra funds. We follow one home, and lock ourselves in the room for the next week, trying to recover from our emotional hurt. There are many more places we want to explore in Poland, but neither of us wants to remain in the country any longer. To top it off, we have just discovered that we cannot buy the car we need unless we are residents of Poland. We feel stuck, we feel upset, and we feel restless. We find a local café that provides wireless internet, and start making new plans; we soon have ourselves sorted with flights to England, Italy and France booked.

We attempt to reempower our experience of Krakow by spending our last days visiting some of the key things we wanted to see. The ancient castle captures our imagination, and we laugh as we crawl through the dungeon of a dragon whose story defines Krakowian folklore.

The old cloth hall, an imposing building set in the middle of the square, delights us with its Polish handicrafts and jewels. As always, the food is magnificent, and goes a long way towards making us feel better. We leave with slightly lighter hearts, but still wounded; sadly, neither of us are willing to return to our homeland until we have completely recovered from the cruel words spoken by our evil host.

Although exhausted by our early morning flight, we arrive in Warsaw excited. Poland is a special place for both of us- for Sandra, whose mum immigrated from here to Australia and who spoke and ate and breathed Polish before she’d ever heard of vegemite; and for Sharon, whose Grandfather grew up here and whose Grandparents survived the war. There is history to be discovered, food to be devoured and a language to be reacquainted with.

We begin our stay as we have done in each country- by eating! Thanks to the laws of irony, Polish cuisine is one of the best in the world- and therefore impossibly hard to prepare. The bonus about being in this country is that delicious, home-cooked meals are on every corner. We gobble down kilograms of Pierogi (a large member of the ravioli family, with Polish-inspired fillings), drink litres of the traditional tomato soup, and make our stomach seams burst with the sides and desserts we grew up with and love.

We are staying with some lovely hosts in a suburb just outside of the capital, and each day they treat us to something new and inspiring. On our first night, they take us on a historical tour so good that we think we have accidentally joined a professional sightseeing group. Whilst showing us the key sights, they also share knowledge with us that has been passed down through generations since the war.

We hear first-hand experiences of an event that seems so distant in time, yet still influences the lives of every Pole today. There are stories of cold-blooded brutality, torture, mass assassinations and the invasion and destruction of a city and culture; yet from these depressing narratives emerges another, mostly untold tale. It is an inspiring tale of all the subtle yet extraordinary ways in which ordinary Poles resisted every bit of the German occupation.

They undermined the power of the regime daily, and managed to set up risky endeavours such as underground radio networks, illegal newspaper printing houses, public poster campaigns and unauthorized schools- all with the intention of keeping Polish culture alive, keeping Polish people informed, and challenging the dominance of the power-hungry invaders. Those involved in these enterprises risked their lives by doing so; yet they are also responsible for the survival of such a beautiful culture. It is inspiring for us to learn that our ancestors weren’t just victims; that they fought and overcame a system of power that we cannot fathom surviving.

On day two, one of our hosts shares with us something a little more light-hearted, but equally as exciting. She works in the restoration department of the capital’s museum, and does astonishing work with textiles that have been unearthed from archaeological digs. Some of the pieces she shows us date back to thousands of years before Christianity was even thought of, and each piece can take her up to a couple of years to restore. Even though we are not usually interested in museums, the things that she shows us blow our minds; it is a very unique experience to watch a museum piece come to life from its original state of utter shabbiness. After seeing all the work, we go to the museum to see the pieces themselves, and due to the fact that we understand the historical context, are most impressed by every stitch and button we see!

By now, we have been in Poland long enough for most of Sandra’s language skills to return. This, in turn, has inspired Sharon, who understands snippets of what is said but is keen to know more. We therefore head to a bookshop to load up on some essential textbooks- mostly in the form of children’s stories, which are by far the easiest to read! Our remaining time in Warsaw is spent learning an alphabet that sounds impossible to the English-trained ear- full of soft and hard sounds that make page-long tongue twisters seem easy. Sharon does remarkably well, and is soon reading posters and shop names with ease. Now for step two: to understand what all these strange words mean!

We have loved our Warsaw experience, yet it is time to move on. We decide to hop on a train and head south to Krakow, bidding our lovely new friends farewell and mumbling new Polish words along the way.

We arrive in Finland with just one plan: to meet Santa. For those of you in the know, you’d be aware that this is where he lives- up in the Arctic Circle, in a place called Lapland. Lapland, however, is a good half way up the country- and we’re at the little tip at the very bottom. Sharon thinks this is ambitious. Sandra, however, has other plans- she wants to go all the way to the northern tip of Finland, and then keep going- all the way to the northern tip of Norway.

Have we mentioned we only have seven days until our flight out?

We hop in the car and start driving, and it’s not too long until we notice that Finland’s one of the most stunningly beautiful countries in the world. We can barely drive a kilometre without hitting yet another shimmering, crystal-blue lake, usually surrounded by luscious, fluffy grass and fields of emerald-green trees. Each night, we are greeted with a bountiful spread of sunset glory- the sky turns shades of purple and orange, and sparkles from the water into our warm little car. Unsurprisingly, we decide to spend our nights sleeping near these natural wonders.

During the day, we dedicate ourselves to hitting the road, and we reach Santa’s house sooner than planned. We arrive at the Christmas wonderland late at night, and join the few other road travellers who are sleeping in the car park. There is something baffling about the scene, though- Santa’s villa looks warm and inviting, is all lit up with sparkling fairy lights, and has no fence- yet all the other travellers are snug in their little cars. Us? Not so! We rug up in our winter woollies and go exploring.

We quickly discover that this is definitely the right time to go exploring. The magical, dream-like qualities of Christmas have come to life around us- from the glistening lights dancing in the trees, to the warm fires glowing inside the little huts, to the chill that makes our cheeks glow. We run around peaking into windows, where little elves’ hats sit and letters wait to be opened. Sandra squeals with excitement every two minutes, and keeps expecting Rudolph to pop around a corner.

We find the Arctic Circle line, where we take a round of photos and notice that yes, it definitely is chilly in the Arctic.

Soon, our Santa adventure is nearing an end- until, at the end of Santa’s kingdom, we spy a tall, gleaming tower. It takes us about thirty seconds to work through the “no, we shouldn’t” conversation, and up we go- over the little fence and up the little tower.

We huff and puff our way up, giggling the whole way and feeling like naughty schoolchildren. Once we round the final corner, though, we are greeted with a view so breathtaking that we are quickly silenced. To one side of us sits Rovaniemi, a glittering town whose night lights flicker. As we slowly turn, we see the low mountain range that surrounds the town, above which the sun is still setting-this being the land of the 18-hour day. On our final side, it is pitch black- once we are still, however, the full moon which hangs above us allows us to make out the shadowy outlines of an endless, dense forest. The silence is suddenly broken with the howling of wolves, and our giggles return- this is so surreal that we almost have to pinch each other to know we are awake.

We sleep well that night, and are up bright and early, ready to meet the man himself. Santa is everything we want him to be- he is jolly and round, and makes some slightly naughty jokes about what his reindeer get up to at night. After confirming that we’ve been good all year, we ask for our Christmas wishes- Sandra would like her own trapeze and Sharon, a hamster. He promises he’ll see what he can do.

We send home some Christmas cheer from the official post office, and then it’s time to head off and explore the rest of the country.

Sharon’s hesitantly agreed to aim for Norway, even though she secretly thinks Sandra’s crazy. About half-way up to our goal, we notice that Sweden’s just across the road- and who could resist a quick side-trip to the home of IKEA? We pop over the border, and within two metres, a towering blue-and-yellow structure greets us. IKEA! Sandra’s beside herself, and after filling up on a delicious lunch in their café, runs around the store until she finds her perfect red towel. Content, we continue on our journey.

We hit Norway, and aren’t expecting much- what could possible compare to the beauty we’ve just seen? Norway, however, soon shows us that it is in a league of its own. Shimmering blue water? Yep, it’s sure got that. Sparkling sunsets? That, too. Luscious greenery? Most definitely. But on top of that, the northern tip of Norway boasts thundering waterfalls, snow-capped mountain ranges, and dramatic cliffs that drop into the ocean. We are, quite simply, awe-struck. Our relatively short drive along the coast guarantees Norway a spot on our next around-the-world adventure.

Our drive back down to Helsinki is a touch quicker than our drive up. With a flight looming uncomfortably close, there’s no time for dawdling! What there is time for, however, is a quick dip in the Arctic waters- for Sharon, at least. Sandra opts for the slightly more comfortable option of snuggling in a warm car with her seat-warmer on and the heater blasting. A freezing few minutes' later and we’re back on the road.

We spend our last few hours in Finland madly dashing around Helsinki. Our original plan was to find one of Finland’s famous spas- after a crazy drive around town, though, we realise this might not be possible. We invest in a hot chocolate instead, and then spend our final night in this land of lakes sleeping in the airport car park. Luckily, we make our excessively early flight the next morning, and our adventure continues!