steps

Research darling, research!

Swanning around ancient European countries requires a savvy strategy if we are to justify enduring the 24+ hour airline food and movie fest sans sleep marathon don’t you think? Not to mention ensuring a glamorous entrance at our ancient cliff clinging quaintly cobbled village upon arrival. Now if you think getting stuck behind a pig parade is fun, consider trashing your best Louboutin heels par for the course or are still wondering why heavy baggage hefting isn’t yet an Olympian sport, stop reading now. For the rest of us…we need tactics. Big ones. And Google. Just a small amount of research can prevent a big amount of pain. Trust me, been there!

Research darling, research!

You’ve a list of places you’d love to visit while on that fab holiday and you’ve Googled highlights to add to your must see list. Now, seven further items worth the research:

1: Is the hamlet/village/township/city built upon level terrain, clinging cliffside or an ancient fortification perched atop a bloody great mountain?
Two weeks spent toting a heavy suitcase full of endless wardrobe possibilities up and down Italian cliff clinging villages and I was quickly packing excess into boxes homeward bound.

Solution: Pack light! Wanna know how? See: Packing like a sophisticate

2: Is it historic and thus likely paved with cobble stones?
The death knell for those gorgeous heels!

Solution: Thank god ballet flats are considered de rigueur in Europe!

3: Can it be easily accessed if one hasn’t a car?
Damn! Strike those gorgeous little villas in the Tuscan mountains, the lavender fields of Provence and anything else remotely remote off the list.

Solution: Day tours make great substitutes! I took one which started at a winery. Five tastings later and our party had morphed into one hilarious fun fest. For more on that crazy day and a little taste of the Luberon: Wine o’clock somewhere yeah?

4: Are there multiple platform swaps if traveling by train?
Most European trains have steps. The platforms have steps, few  of the smaller train stations have escalators and if there’s a lift, it’s usually broken. Platforms are mostly accessed via subterranean pathways. This means steps my friend. Steps!

Solution: Pack light! Allow plenty of time between connections (Oh! And here’s a story about a time I sat on a set of train steps with a bunch of perfect strangers eating pizza washed down with cheap red wine: You eez on zer wrong train Signora

5: How far is my chosen accommodation from the train/bu20131215-210108s/airport?

Just one baby jumping, phallus whacking,orange throwing, pig celebrating festival street closure and next thing your taxi driver is salivating as both meter and your flight climb heavenward right before your very eyes. (Spain, Greece, Italy, France)

Solution: Research festival and market activity scheduled at the time of your visit. Put Spain on future agenda – baby jumping is a must!

6: How close is the accommodation to the action?
The outskirts may be cheaper but a quick stroll directly through quaint streets into the hamlet heart and soul means a deeper, more culturally enriching experience.

Solution: Negate public transportation costs by choosing digs close to the hub of activity.

7: And if the hotel/villa/apartment isn’t on ground floor, does the building have a lift?
My traveling buddy’s hubby started divorce proceedings in a stairwell somewhere between the 9th and 14th floor of a particularly arduous curvy flight of timber stairs; though it must be said BOTH their bags weighed the equivalent of two dead bodies. The beauty of the actual apartment and a stiff G&T managed to stifle a potential screaming match. Just.

Solution: Need I say? Pack light!

 Logistics sorted? Prepped for a penis whacking? Anxious to avoid a divorce hearing? Keen to pack mega efficiently to make the most of that well earned holiday? You can do it!!

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Plight of the traveling chick…

My travel buddy packs for overseas holidays on the assumption that laundromats don’t exist. We once evicted 15 of the 50 shirts she’d stashed for a 6 week sojourn and she wore less than half the survivors. I recently toted a dearly beloved heavy pullover and a fur hooded puffer jacket across five steamy summer destinations for just one month of cooler climate. Are you as crazy?

Much goes into selecting our holiday wardrobe and, unless mounting a Mt Everest expedition or a Congo line through the Congo, packing is half the fun as we plan for every possible luxurious scenario. Phone calls back and forth, ‘I’m taking just nine pairs of shoes and my pet yak, what about you?’ We rejoice when we manage to squeeze the lid closed and heartily congratulate ourselves when our bag weighs in to a gram under airline maximum. But think about this…

20140202-201652.jpgHistoric townships and cliff clinging villages are gloriously atmospheric, culturally fascinating and ever so quaint; but they’re also a pain in the ass to negotiate with luggage. Cobble stones with gaps so large, small children disappear; slopes so steep they should be serviced with an inclinator…and then there’s the steps. Slippery, rocky steps. Subterranean train platform steps. Trains themselves with steps! Centuries old buildings with dodgy lifts…and stairwells…and flight upon flight of STEPS!

Lug luggage up and down said steps and across crooked cobbles and within moments your back and shoulders are aching as if you’ve just gone six rounds with Mike Tyson. Your face is red and your parched colorless lips are muttering profanities you didn’t even know you knew for your haunted panda eyes have just caught sight of yourself and you notice your hair has now morphed from chic to shite. Mournfully pondering the bag lady mess while studiously ignoring the steady stream of sweat (yes I know, I know, women are said to ‘glow’ or ‘perspire’ or something while horses sweat, but it’s bloody SWEAT ok?!) ruining your gorgeous silk as it makes it’s way down the length of your body and pools in your brand new Gucci loafers, you manage to gasp just two words as you finally fall into the foyer…Alcohol! STAT!

Seriously darling…the whole sordid look is so très, très uncool when swanning from one foreign country to the next sans muscle bound male or soirée of servants don’t you think?

But what’s a girl to do?

Well unless your planning a holiday on a sunny terrazzo overlooking a sparkling azure blue ocean where a bikini, sarong, gorgeous beach hat, slick of gloss and a fruity red cocktail are the only de rigueur; stay tuned for my next post. It’s sporting a bunch of handy hints on what NOT to do for I have the answer to those packing woes!

 

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