Pope Francis dies at 88 years of age

It’s now Friday 16^th April, 2025. Kia ora!

It’s been quite a while since I last blogged. I’m unwilling to comment on US politics, or any politics much, so that doesn’t leave a great deal to write about! But I will say, with relief, that New Zealand’s infamous Treaty Principles Bill was voted down at its second reading. Hopefully that’s the end of it.

Last week turned out to be a busy one, as sometimes happens. I went to Tai chi on Monday and Bible Study on Tuesday morning, then saw a dear friend on Tuesday afternoon. It was so good, talking to her and her husband, to have a more “high brow” conversation.  I did enjoy it.

On Wednesday morning I went to hymn singing, but I didn’t go on to a movie after that – I didn’t really feel up to it, or enthused by the choice of movies on offer.

On Thursday it was the final Thursday singing session for Term 1. For some reason, they’ve gone away from having catered lunches and we were all asked to bring some food to share.  I agonized, of course, over what to bring – whether to buy something like a slice or mini-biscuits from the supermarket (they’re quite expensive), or enlist JD in making my go-to solution – asparagus rolls. In the end, the rolls won out: I figured I could take a small plate to singing, and keep a plate here for the grandchildren who were due to come that afternoon.  JD was dispatched to buy white sandwich bread, and he did, at least it was labelled as such, but seemed as though there’d been a healthy addition of whole meal flour, and it was not sliced very thinly.

Still, the asparagus rolls were a success, although I had a contretemps with the microwave when softening the butter. Fifteen seconds meant it was melted, not softened. So I tried ten seconds, and it was barely softened. Five seconds more, and it was still quite firm. I had though half an hour would be plenty of time, but was glad we’d started early, as it took longer than expected.  Still, the rolls were well received, being easy to eat, and not messy; they don’t need heating either. In the event, there was way too much food, and some obviously store-bought. In these situations it would be helpful to have an indication as to whether to bring sweet or savoury food, or even cheese, crackers and fruit.

On Friday someone whom I hadn’t met before was supposed to come and do some cleaning, and I was ready for them too, but Access rang and said they had so much sickness that they couldn’t send anyone.  A reprieve!  That seems sad, but I dislike having someone in the house whom I haven’t met before, and showing him or her where everything is.

On Saturday there was a singing workshop, For Singing’s Sake, at Queen Margaret College.  This was due to start at 10 am. I’d offered a friend in Khandallah a lift, forgetting JD had to be in Days Bay by 11 am. In the event it all worked out fine. I prepared a small flask of espresso coffee, as I’ve done before, and a sandwich and crackers.  We were supposed to wear green and white, and of course I agonized over what to wear: how cold would it be in the hall?  I wore dark green corduroy trousers, with a white linen short and a light green top (which I later removed). It was a beautifully fine, sunny day, but it can be cool out of the sun.

The workshop was very enjoyable, with seven choirs, about 200 singers, and three choir leaders: our Andrea Robinson, Susie Hardie, and of course the enthusiastic Lala Simpson.  We were seated in the hall –  quite close together.

We learnt three songs together, during the morning, and then after a lunch break practiced as individual choirs to sing two songs during the afternoon’s concert. There was a good turn out from the Khandallah folk, and I think we sang well.  It’s good to make a good sound, which I fear some groups did not. Afterwards my friend’s husband brought us both home.  That evening I had a slight sore throat, and I hoped nothing would come of it.

The next day, Sunday, I was to do the Palm Sunday reading, from Luke’s Gospel, chapter 19 verses 28 – 40. There is no mention of palms! Instead, the disciples throw their cloaks on the ground. I wore a purple velvet cloak that I had worn as part of my going-away outfit (yes, back in the day women wore going-away outfits!), but I didn’t really want anyone to walk on it! I checked and purple is an appropriate colour for Lent or Advent.

The minister highlighted the contrast between Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, and a Roman military parade where a successful general would be allowed a parade in Rome, to much acclamation. Jesus’ parade was a much more humble one.

Again it was a beautiful day, and I persuaded JD to have lunch at Days Bay, where we could watch the harbour in the glorious sunlight.  We were going to go to Sea Salt, a favourite of ours, but just eat off the children’s menu and not have cocktails, coffee or dessert.  But when we got there, and found somewhere to park, it was not open – it’s under New Management, with a New Menu. That’s a shame, I rather liked the old menu. So we had lunch at the Chocolate Dayz Café nearby, and although it was around 1:30 pm their kitchen was closed!  We had Turkish pies, which they reheated, with salad, and shared a mixed berry and custard tart – this was delicious, but I did not enjoy the pie, or the coffee.

Afterwards we went shopping at New World in Thorndon, and I started to feel very unwell.  And so my cold developed, and I apologized, one by one, for all the activities I was going to do during the week.

On Monday I was taking things quietly, between having a very runny nose, when suddenly the power went off. There had been no warning of this. Evidently a transformer not far away had caught on fire, and this caused an electricity outage for many hours.  Two of our grandchildren were to come over at 1: 30 pm, so I asked their father by text if he knew what was going on.  We had no internet connection, and no hot water – we have gas Infinity hot water, but the meters are powered by electricity. He said the fault was caused by a fire in Churton Park; at that stage 1146 houses were affected,  and the power was due to come on again at 2:40 pm. So we made sandwiches for lunch, and our grandchildren did some lovely drawing. This resulted in looking at some of our art books.  When our son came to pick up his children, we got another update: the fire – a transformer – was nearby, and our power was not to be restored until 11:30 that night!  Now 146 houses were affected.

Thankfully it was no cold.  JD and I drove to Khandallah to have hot coffee and hot cross buns, toasted, since we couldn’t do that at home.  It being a Monday, there were few cafés open, and it was dangerously close to their closing time –  4pm or earlier. We had already decided to have takeaways that evening – Johnsonville was not affected by the outage.

When we got home, I searched for candles and matches, while we still had daylight.  Then I continued to read my book, Conclave, while it was light enough to do so.  Thankfully I had my kindle, so I would be able to read from that in the dark. By 6 pm it was dark, and all the candles were let. They did not generate much light, and one would have to be careful not to knock one over. I was very cautious about making sure that each candle had somewhere for the molten wax to go.

We had takeaways for dinner, and some pudding: we shared an apple pie JD had bought in Khandallah, and had some melting ice cream with it. It was terribly dark, and still early!  I had managed to get our gas heater going, so we had some heating. I went to bed early, and did go to sleep, in spite of not having access to my podcasts or audio books. I woke up at 11:35, and the power was still not on, but it came on a few minutes later.  Thankfully I’d turned off the lights in the master bedroom. I looked at the local news – there was no talk of the outage!  But it was great to have Wi-Fi working again! I think I could handle a planned outage much better. This was quite challenging.

Although I’d felt better on Monday, Tuesday was not a good day.  I took things very quietly, but I finished reading Conclave. It’s a great novel, actually. Robert Harris makes Lomeli a very sympathetic character, in my view. I was glad I’d read the book. I enjoyed reading it.

On Wednesday, as indicated, I sent apologies for most activities. The fortnightly Te Reo class was cancelled too – the teacher had a cold!  That was disappointing – I was looking forward to reviewing Easter and Anzac Day, which mean so much in Māori.

It’s now Tuesday 22 April.

I missed most of the Holy Week activities because of my cold. Thankfully it has remained a head cold, but I don’t want to pass it on and I do want to recover.  I missed the Maundy Thursday service, and the Good Friday service and the Pilgrimage of the Cross. However I did take part in these activities last year. I’ve done a lot of listening to Bach’s St Matthew Passion – I’ve found a really good recording, and I know the work almost as well as I know Handel’s Messiah.  I did go to church on Easter Sunday.  However it’s been a rather gloomy and lonely time, with no movies that I really want to see.  The weather’s been weird here: it was really hot on Sunday, although raining off and on. It’s now cooler.

Yesterday we went up the road to our local supermarket. We set out to walk, but went back to get the car as it threatened to rain much harder.  The store was evidently trying to catch up after being closed on Good Friday and Easter Sunday – there were large gaps in the shelves.

The big news that came through yesterday was the death of Pope Francis.  Evidently he’d seen Vice President J.D. Vance briefly beforehand. However we are mostly, if not all, moved by the death of this extraordinary Pope, who was a Jesuit and Argentinian.  He certainly made his mark with his advocating of kindness. As Tim Miller pointed out, he was always smiling.  Despite his recent severe illness, he took part in Easter celebrations at St Peter’s Basilica, and gave the Urbi et Orbe blessing. What a fine note to bow out on.

As it happens, I’ve just finished reading Conclave by Robert Harris, so I’m well briefed on (and slightly more sympathetic to) the procedure for the Conclave – the election of the new Pope.

Yesterday we had another power cut. JD and I returned home from the shops, and he couldn’t open the garage door (i.e. his garage door opener didn’t work). He told the workmen, who evidently didn’t realise the power was out. I came on again after about 30 minutes. Earlier that day I had walked with JD up the road where a generator grunts away giving us power, while workmen work to replace the transformer that caught on fire. Civilisation hangs by such a thread.

Easter Holy Week fell on the same date for the Catholic Church and the Orthodox church, which is evidently unusual.  On Palm Sunday there was a Russian drone strike on Sumy, a Ukrainian town, killing several civilians.  Putin declared a 48 hour cease fire over Easter weekend, but the Ukrainians advise that this was broken.  It seems that the US may give up Trump’s promise to end

the war right away on his election. Slava Ukraini! That’s it for now. Ngā mihi nui.

Apologies for a few typos in this blog.  For some reason WordPress will not let me fix them.

Sunrise, Claude Monet

Boulevard des Capucines, Claude Monet

Today is Sunday 16 March, 2025. Kia ora!

This morning I woke up to a beautiful photo of my latest granddaughter in the UK. She’s now 8 months old. What a lovely, happy baby she is. I’m sure she’ll be correcting her brainy parents as soon as she can speak!  Last night we spoke to our grandson in Taipei.  He’s beautiful, too, of course, and he enhanced his image with a lot of Tiktok filters (I assume).  What a blessing grandchildren are!

It’s been an interesting time, needless to say.  Much of it has been expected; but there’s been far more than was promised in the US.  Meanwhile, we’re glad not to be there, although Winston Peters has announced a war on woke, whatever that is.

On the home front, the weather’s been mixed. Some days have been warm and fine (up to 23C!) although it always gets cold at night. There’ve been some cold snaps too, when one gets a jersey out.

The season of Lent rolls on. There was a Shrove Tuesday celebration at my church, which I did not attend (the weather was awful!) but I went to my first Ash Wednesday service the following day. It was an ecumenical service at St Mary’s Cathedral in Boulcott Street. It was a lovely service, although I doubt it that’s the appropriate word to use as we recall death and its meaning.  The church was almost full! I lined up to get the ashes on my forehead, too, and caught a bus home afterwards. Being autumn, it was still daylight. I was pleased that I went.

Last Friday I went to see the movie Tinā with a friend of mine. I had watched the trailer, and although I knew it was sad I thought the sadness was just at the beginning. Silly me! It had many sad, as well as joyful moments. I was profoundly moved by it: I remembered a lovely Samoan lady in the Manners Street branch of the National Bank (years ago) who always had a flower in her hair, behind one ear; I was reminded of the dreadful big earthquake in Christchurch: we were in Invercargill at the time, and did feel some shaking: we had just been through Christchurch the night before!  We flew home from Dunedin, and so did not return to Christchurch at that time. We were shocked by the devastation, and the hundreds of deaths.  I was very relieved that my cousin and her whanau were all alright, although their homes had sustained some damage. There was significant disruption for years afterwards that was visible every time I visited.

This was another religious film (after Conclave): the heroine belonged to a Samoan Catholic Church, and taught at a Catholic secondary school – for supposedly privileged youngsters whose parents could afford the fees.  I was especially moved by the beautiful singing, from Dave Dobbyn’s Welcome Home, to Nearer my God, to Thee, to When Peace like a River || Attendeth my way. Fortunately in a dark movie theatre you can cry quite discreetly.

Watching television at home has been another challenge, now that we’ve finished watching Vera (again!) and The Spoils of War on You Tube. We watched an episode of Apple Cider Vinegar, and an episode of Zero Day (even Robert de Niro can’t rescue this series for me), and of course Season 3 of The White Lotus. I don’t like TWL, and I’m determined not to advocate for that kind of holiday, but one has to watch it to know what all the never-ending publicity’s about.

We’ve been watching the series on TVNZ about the Lockerbie bombing, The Search for Truth, starring Colin Firth as Jim Swire. Last night we watched two episodes of The Pitt on Neon TV. Although it’s a medical drama it’s not too gory, and I found it quite watchable despite the some of characters being “there for each other” in a frustrating way.  I was impressed that if someone dies the attending staff hold a moment’s (actually a few seconds) silence for the person who has passed.

It’s now Friday 29 March.

I’ve been watching Adolescence on Netflix. What a profoundly disturbing series! We and our children certainly faced challenges as teenagers, but not with the likes of Andrew Tate and Instagram. Wow!  What an interesting series. Every parent (and grandparent) of teenagers should watch it.

Last Monday JD and I went to see an art film, The Birth of Impressionism, at the Lighthouse theatre in Petone. It was a lovely movie – isn’t French culture wonderful?  This of course inspired much looking at art books after we got home.  This movie didn’t feature Delacroix or Turner, but much of Turner’s work is impressionistic.  Our favourite Monets are one of Sunrise (featured on a beautiful silk scarf I bought at the Orangerie Museum Shop in Paris), and one of people walking in Paris in the snow called Boulevard des Capucines. Note: this was the dawn of Impressionism (in France), as opposed to later beautiful  works of art.

A day or two later I asked about a beautiful sequined jacket in the window of Hamilton and Murray Boutique.  Often I walk past their lovely clothes, thinking that they would date quickly, but this really took my eye, to wear over a black skirt and top.  JD, bless him, took me back to try it on that afternoon.  Well, it fits beautifully, but JD persuaded me to get a sparkly black jacket instead, claiming quite rightly that I’d get much more wear out of it – its being suitable for day or night wear.  The lovely jacket I’d so admired would also snag very easily, so one would have to be very careful with it.  JD claimed it made me look like a Chinese grandmother. I retorted that in fact I am a Chinese grandmother – two of my grandchildren have a Chinese mother.

It’s been quite a busy week, in its way. On Thursday morning my singing group was to sing at the Bupa Retirement Home in Crofton Downs.  We were required to be there by 10:30 am, but we were much earlier than that.  I think the singing went all right – it was certainly well received, but I always find these events a bit confronting!  It’s upsetting, of course, to see so many infirm older people – not that many of us are much better!

Afterwards JD picked up my friend and me, but since he had a 1 pm appointment, we didn’t stay to have morning tea in Crofton Downs, at Bupa or the Mitre 10 store or the shopping centre. Instead, JD dropped us both off at Khandallah and we had morning tea there. Then I caught a bus home.

On Thursday evening we went to a concert with the NZSO and Gemma New conducting Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition.  Neither of us felt very well, and JD claimed we could leave early if we wanted to.  We didn’t eat before the concert – it started at 6: 30 pm, which is quite early.

I wanted to wear my new jacket, with a black skirt and light black top underneath, and a silk scarf. The problem was we needed to attach a brooch, and time was running out.  I scanned existing clothes for brooches – they’re complicated, with attachments that need to be twisted around, and, in many cases, safety chains! In all cases they proved difficult to undo from their existing attachments.  The jacket buttons are gold: should we choose a gold or silver based brooch?  Problems, problems.  Eventually I grabbed one to put on in the car.

We set off and actually got a car park outside the police station in Harris Street, my first choice. The next challenge was to get to the MFC. The lovely pedestrian area is mostly blocked off!  But we got there, way too early, after all. I had downloaded and printed off the notes sent by Ticketmaster beforehand, so we could read those.

The concert was very well attended. There was an overture by Gareth Farr, and then a new piece by a French composer (I forget his name) with perhaps 6 movements. There was a wonderful flautist for this debut performance wearing a marvellous red velvet trouser suit.

After the interval we had the pièce de resistance, the Pictures at an Exhibition. This was very well performed, with great enthusiasm. It was very enjoyable, and I reminded him that this was what we’d gone to some trouble to get tickets for. We had found Takina, and waited to get tickets there – Ticketmaster was having some issues, both with them and with me. We were so pleased that we’d been.

Afterwards, it was still quite early, so we called at New World in Thorndon to get something to share and eat: a mini-quiche, a vegetarian (spinach and chick peas) “sausage” roll (ugh!), a small apple pie, and affogato ice cream. They did not have my favourite vanilla ice-creams from Lewis Road Creamery or Motueka Creamery.  What we did eat was delicious.

The Sermons have been quite wonderful recently, with the Minister combining lessons from the Old and New Testaments, as we travel through this time of Lent.

I’m a bit behind with podcasts at present: there are lots, and many interesting ones on Times Radio.  The videos on YouTube are easier to watch in many cases, as you can stop and restart.  But on many of them ones sees men scratching their heads! I’m sure they wouldn’t do this if they could see themselves doing it. Their mothers would not be best pleased.

It’s now Sunday 30 March

This morning I went to church and enjoyed it. The minister related the entry of the Children of Israel to the Promised Land, after spending forty years in the wilderness (as related in Joshua 5) to the Father’s reception of the prodigal son in Luke 15. An old friend of mine who now attends Johnsonville Uniting Church was there; it was lovely to speak to her.  Afterwards JD’s brother and his fiancée called in for a few minutes. Later we had lunch at Sea Salt in Days Bay; then we went to the Rona Gallery, which was having an exhibition and a closing down sale.  I suspect the best paintings had already gone; most of the rest were very expensive. But JD bought a small painting – one of the “Make an offer” ones.  Then we had the delicious challenge of wondering where to hang it!  I’m still getting to like it: I like to think that Our Art Collection will be worth seeing, of not actually worth very much in financial terms, in the future!

It’s an unsettling and unsettled time in many respects.  The ceasefires in Gaza and Ukraine seem very tentative, so much so that one wonders if they will ever happen. What a great deal has changed on the world stage in the last few weeks! And then there’s been a huge earthquake in Myanmar, which has affected Thailand as well. It’s not what you would think of as an earthquake area. The death toll in Myanmar keeps rising – it’s now over 1,600.

That’s it for now. Slava Ukraini! Ngā mihi nui.

It’s now Friday 28 February, 2025. Kia ora!

I haven’t written lately, as the changes in the US are too overwhelming.  Where does one start?  Elon Musk’s trail of destruction is being well documented. While the new cabinet is distressing, it’s hard to believe that medical research has been halted and that vaccines have been discredited, and food inspection eliminated. It’s all very depressing, as is Trump’s vision for Gaza and ham-fisted attempts to end the war in Ukraine.  His allying with Putin rather than the US’s traditional allies is also very upsetting; then there’s the fact that in recent German elections the far-right AFD got 20% of the vote, mainly in East Germany. Even here in New Zealand some science research initiatives are no  longer being funded by the coalition government. Now they propose introducing a bill to enable four-year terms in future. This will probably pass, although I don’t know when it is expected to begin.

People are asking about Trump’s policies. I think that is giving him far too much credit. He is, and continues to be, unpredictable. There is little in the way of policy apart from what seems like deliberate cruelty.

Meanwhile, what a sad place Wellington is. JD was recently looking at a video of Chinese towns being in a sad state; I wondered aloud if he was looking at a photo of Johnsonville.  In the city and surrounding suburbs, bike lanes predominate, and I always say, with deep irony, “Just look at all the bikes!” I’ve yet to see a bike on a single bike lane.  Meanwhile, car parks have been removed. It’s proposed to make Courtenay Place, as well as Lambton Quay, free of vehicles. Why would you even go there? Meanwhile, Minister of Finance Nicola Willis calls for growth. In Indian restaurants, perhaps? For wealthy individuals to emigrate here.

It’s a sad and sorry situation, where there have been very few movies worth seeing.  The bus information has been lying recently, as buses either haven’t conformed with the information given, or the information is very different from what one remembers from the timetable. Sometimes buses just don’t arrive. The #25 bus from Khandallah is a good service, going through the CBD, but sometimes that doesn’t turn up, thus wrecking one’s personal timetable for whatever one planned to do.

We’ve been watching a British series called The Spoils on War on YouTube. It’s set mainly in England in 1945 after VE Day, when the war in Europe was over, and people faced decisions about their futures. The series centres on two families, one perhaps lower middle class and one high born, whose futures are entwined through marriage and politics. There are interesting wishes and political values, while people come to terms with being de-mobbed, seeing loved ones again, and the current state their in, and the ramifications of it all. Then there’s the war in the Pacific and use of the atom bomb, and great hopes are cut down to size. I found the early episodes very interesting.

Last week I managed to see the movie I’m Still Here at Brooklyn’s Penthouse. I caught a bus from Khandallah after hymn singing, and got there far too early for the 1 pm screening. Still, the Penthouse wasn’t busy, and I had lunch before resting on one of their very comfortable sofas.

The movie was in the Vogue suite, with a handful of viewers, but one lady’s phone went off reading the RNZ 1 pm news very loudly! That was upsetting. It took her ages to realise it was her phone, and then she didn’t seem to know how to turn the sound down.

Still, the movie was amazing and well worth seeing. It’s centered around a family in Rio de Janeiro who live close to the famous Copacabana beach during the 1970’s.  There is martial law, and a military dictatorship. They know this is a dangerous time, and send their eldest daughter to London with family friends. Some plain clothes heavies turn up, and take the husband/father away to make a deposition. He doesn’t return, and then the mother and next eldest daughter are taken away.  The mother and daughter are blindfolded and taken to a prison where they are held in separate cells. The sound effects are terrifying – we hear people screaming as they are being tortured, although we don’t see it. The daughter is held for one night, the mother for several nights, and then she is returned home. The house is watched.  The bank cannot release funds without the husband’s signature, so they have to let the cook go.  Eventually the mother and her children leave their family home to move to their grandparents’ apartment in Sao Paulo, a far cry from the family home. Meanwhile, Eunice is fighting for some acknowledgment that her husband has been arrested. This eventually arrives; years later she receives a death certificate, with no knowledge of how her husband died, or handing over of his body. There are several poignant moments in the film: the song Je t’aime played at the eldest daughter’s farewell party (with someone saying it’s just as well the children don’t understand the French lyrics); Eunice and her husband play backgammon before he is taken away; and they have five children. We were married in the 1970’s so it’s very real. The family leaving their home is desperately sad, as is the dawning realization that Eunice’s husband will not return. They don’t even know what happened to him.

It’s now Sunday 2 March

Yesterday morning the first video I looked at on You Tube was a Bulwark one, reacting to the Oval Office shake-down of President Zelensky by Trump and J.D. Vance. Well, that was just the beginning. I then watched several Times Radio podcasts, which had mainly British commentators, and some on London’s LBC. Then there were several emergency broadcasts: Shield of the Republic, a Bulwark weekly podcast, was especially interesting: Eric Edelman, one of the two anchors, is a very diplomatic person (actually he was a diplomat), but yesterday I heard him swearing using the F word.  It has been interesting listening to him and his co-host, Eliot Cohen, vent over the last few weeks. They used to discuss strategy. I guess that no longer applies.  There was an emergency podcast by The Rest is Politics, by Alastair Campbell and Rory Stewart, and I even listened to The Rest is Politics US with Anthony Scaramucci and Katty Kay. I have avoided this one to date, mainly because I never want to listen to Anthony Scaramucci. I listened to James Carville’s War Room podcast. Today I’ve listened to the Telegraph’s Ukraine The Latest, Lawfare and Battleground emergency podcasts.  Suffice to say that everyone was shocked. The US commentators are mainly embarrassed, the English ones viscerally appalled.   Such a display of rudeness!  Zelensky was criticized for not wearing a suit; several commentators have pointed out that Elon Musk doesn’t wear a suit; he wears black and doesn’t even take his hat off in the Oval Office.

An extra point: the Shield of the Republic podcast spoke about Trump being deified, something I have feared. As JD says, you can’t spell “deified” without DEI!

This interchange reminded me of the first debate between Biden and Trump in 2019 before the presidential election, which Joe Biden won. A similar level of bullying went on there, and everyone was shocked by it.  It felt like a “Me Too” moment for men, as though they’d been attacked or improperly touched at an unexpected moment. How short some memories are.

So this was one of those moments where you look back and remember exactly where you were when you heard the interchange that took place, and just wanted to vomit afterwards.  Then one had to hear it replayed on virtually every program that criticized it. The profundity of these few minutes and their meaning should be clear to anyone: that the post World War Two Order has changed, and not only can the US not be relied on to support Ukraine, or indeed Europe, but its president is actively supporting President Putin of Russia. Of course, there have been many signs pointing to this, but surely it is plainly evident now: to prevent further encroachment by Putin, the European countries must unite to prevent this, and defend Ukraine.  I guess Brexit was a key to this, isolating the UK from Europe in every way, never mind the lies told to sell this decision and the disastrous effects of it. Oh dear, oh dear.  It is just so sad that this war continues, and the brave Ukrainians are amazingly innovative fighters, now in year three; they’re also doing it on our behalf.

Actually we used to speak about “perfidious Albion”, but one remembers some of the despicable acts by the US as it pursued whatever its then foreign policy was, and the dreadful effects of these sometimes covert actions. Still, they have maintained military bases in many places overseas since the second World War, and this has been effective. They can take credit for holding NATO together.  When we first went to Europe in the early 1970’s, the US was greatly loathed, for whatever reasons. We were at pains to point out that we weren’t American.

In many instances the Americans have such a simplistic view of any conflict: there are good guys and bad guys. The situation is usually far more nuanced.

This reminded me of two other key events of 2019: Trump getting Covid, and the death of Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Both sparked emergency podcasts. The death of RBG was particularly significant, leading to the appointment of Amy Coney Barrett to the Supreme Court.

It seems that President Macron of France and Prime Minister Keir Starmer of the UK had better success with their Oval Office meetings with Trump, flattering him, although both contradicted his lies (which he repeated); but then their nations aren’t at war. By the way, why do the British press give Starmer such a hard time? He does lack charisma, I’ll admit, but he’s intelligent and holds his own on the world stage (such a quaint phrase). And surely he’s a million miles better than Boris Johnson, Liz Truss or Rishi Sunak.  That’s got to be a relief.

On a brighter note, we had beautiful services at the church I go to on Sunday mornings both today and last Sunday morning. Last week we had the story of Joseph, and one from Luke’s Gospel about giving generously, and loving your enemies. This was about forgiveness. Today is Transfiguration Sunday, and we had the story from Exodus about Moses going up Mount Sinai to listen to the Lord God, and of course Luke’s version of the Transfiguration.  The minister spoke about the challenges of coming back to earth after a “shiny moment”, where faces are transformed by the glory of the Lord.  It’s good to have transcendent moments when you go to church. 

It’s now Monday 3 March.

The fallout continues from the disastrous Oval Office meeting with Zelensky, as people around the world contemplate the implications of this.  It seems that the US now sides with the “bad guys” i.e. Putin, and not with personal freedom, freedom of the press, and a proper sort of democracy. Republicans are again coalescing behind Trump. It’s all very sad. Apparently Luxon says that New Zealand stands behind Ukraine. And what of Gaza and Israel? Last week Trump released an AI generated video of his real estate success in Gaza. Poor Gaza!

That’s it for now. Slava Ukraini! Ngā mihi nui.

Today is Tuesday 21 January, 2025. Kia ora!

Donald Trump was inaugurated as US President for the second time on Monday (in the US).  This occasion was memorable for several reasons: Trump did not take his oath of office on the Bible; the high-wealth “tech bros” were seated in prime position (not evangelicals, or proposed cabinet members), and the fact that Melania was dressed all in black, with a broad brimmed hat which covered her eyes and made it impossible for Donald Trump to kiss her. Was she dressed for a funeral? The death of democracy, perhaps? Dark forces vs. the Deep State?

I declared I was not going to watch this event, and I did not, but it has been pretty hard to avoid commentary on it.  The liberal commentators are deeply depressed, for the most part: they’re complaining about the next four years of Trump’s presidency, but who’s to say it will only be four years? Benjamin Wittes spoke about the first day of the Occupation, whereas Trump in a very low-energy speech spoke about Liberation. I doubt of anyone felt liberated, apart from the January 6 2021 rioters, who were uniformly pardoned or had their sentences commuted. It was assumed by Vice President J. D. Vance and senior republicans that violent offenders (some of whom had pled guilty) would not be pardoned, but they were, as Trump had promised. One man was going off to get some guns. Some were dobbed in by family members, who were scared of them. But there’s no parole, no supervision, and no limitation on their future actions.  So Trump will now have his own militia, political violence is acceptable, and the rule of law, imperfect as it is, counts for nothing.

The next day Trump went to a service at the Washington National Cathedral, where a female bishop (Mariann Budde) asked him to extend mercy to marginalised groups, as mercy had been shown to him (by a “loving God”) in a recent assassination attempt. He was not moved, and there are now calls for the bishop, who spoke well and bravely, to be deported herself. During this service Trump obviously did not know the Lord’s Prayer.  Immigration raids can be carried out anywhere, even in schools and churches. A church is no longer a place of refuge. I recently visited Canterbury Cathedral and Durham Cathedral, which were both places of refuge, as I was reminded while I was there. We were asked to be respectful of these places.

I admired what the Bishop said, although I take issue with one statement: she spoke about transgender children. I don’t think children have gender issues before puberty, although I could be wrong here, and puberty can begin as young as 10 years.

Many cruel things are being done. I have to admit that the Democrats seem bemused and confused at this stage, as I think many people are: weary and sad.

It’s now Tuesday 28 January.

Trump has done a number of things, as he said he would. I wonder why Americans are shocked and surprised! He warned people repeatedly of what he would do.  And he made some outlandish promises about lowering prices, later admitting this is hard to do. What is hard to take, and wasn’t forewarned, are his cabinet picks: Matt Gaetz (he later withdrew), Pete Hegseth, Kash Patel, Tulsi Gabbard, and RFK jnr, amongst others. Marco Rubio is seen as a “normal person” and has been confirmed as Secretary of State. Some, such as Kristi Noem, Pam Bondy, and Pete Hegseth have already been confirmed, as they probably will all be. Resistance from republican senators is futile, it seems. So these are shocking appointments.

On the world stage, I find myself hoping that Trump gets the Nobel Peace Prize, strange as that may seem.  Attacking Greenland/Denmark and Panama doesn’t seem at all peace-like. Peace in Ukraine has yet to be achieved. A ceasefire in Israel has been achieved, a complicated arrangement, which appears to be holding so far, and some hostages have been released, and a number of Palestinian prisoners, but Trump has claimed that Palestinians who lived in Gaza should go to Egypt or Jordan and Israel should raze Gaza!  This is ironic from the president who can’t abode migrants in the US. It’s all right for other countries to take them, then. Back in New Zealand, Shane Jones (a NZ First Party politician), said “Send the Mexicans home”.  Whatever prompted that?

It’s now Wednesday 5 February.

It was a busy morning: I went to hymn singing, which has just restarted for the year, and then to Te Reo Māori. Now that hymn singing starts later, I don’t have time for a wee break in between – to have a coffee at Parsons’ Café.  But it was all lovely.  Unfortunately I forgot to take my phone, but I rang from the Community Centre and JD came and picked me up. It was a beautifully warm sunny day, even in Ganges Road, and I was able to sit outside the library in the sunshine to wait for him.

Other things have restarted, such as Bible Study, yesterday morning. We spoke about the movie Conclave – I think I had a rather stoic impression of it!  I’ve been listening to the audiobook of the novel by Robert Harris which it’s based on, and as there is lots of prayer in the book, I rather felt the religious details had been stripped out in the film. Perhaps I should see it again, although my criticisms remain.

I also had a discussion with the minister about bringing political situations into the weekly service of worhip, with particular reference to the short film about the Holocaust that we watched at a recent service in Karori.  I feel more and more that this was inappropriate:  when Jesus was alive (the word made flesh) on earth, although he foretold his death he did not advocate overturning, or protesting against, Roman authority or how dreadful Herod was or even the Roman system of government.  Similarly the apostle Paul, although he foretold his death, and we’re told about some narrow escapes, did not defy governmental authority. The house of God is a house of prayer (Isaiah 56:7, “My house shall be called a house of prayer”). Similarly, there are protocols when one enters a Māori marae, particularly the Wharenui: one is on sacred ground, as is one within a church. Jesus told his followers to “watch and pray”. When I go to church I wish for a break from the dreadful things that may be happening in the world, and somewhere to experience the peace of God, which passes human understanding (Philippians 4:7).

Still, it is tempting to discuss foreign affairs, as we watch the American system of government being dismantled, very quickly.  I’ve been listening to The Rest is History podcast where Tom Holland has recently completed a new translation of Suetonius’ The Lives of the Caesars.  There was a podcast about Tiberius, but last Monday he covered the life of the emperor Caligula.  I couldn’t help comparing this to the present situation in the US. Was Caligula mad, or just mad with power? He certainly did some very unpleasant things, even if some of the more lurid stories about him are perhaps untrue. The Roman Senate was an august body that men on completing a “cursus honorum” (military success) aspired to be elected to. However Caligula got them to vote supreme power to him! They were so subservient that they did so. Then he had his Praetorian Guard to protect him (although one of them eventually murdered him, thus bringing his reign of terror to an end).  Suetonius wrote about recording deeds of the Princeps, and then the monster (that he became).

I think it’s been about two weeks since Trump’s inauguration. In that time, many people have been fired, or their jobs are at risk; all the dreadful nominees to Trump’s cabinet look like being confirmed; Trump has toyed with applying tariffs to Canada, Mexico and China, but he’s held off on the Canada and Mexico ones (for now).  The FBI is being dismantled, despite the ongoing threats of terrorism. What’s he doing? Is there a plan? Meanwhile, the head of the FAA has been sacked, and there was a dreadful plane crash between an airline and an army helicopter in Washington, followed by an air ambulance small plane crash in Philadelphia, in which all six on the plane and one person on the ground were killed. Elon Musk’s minions have access to the US Treasury, which makes many payments to US citizens.  Meanwhile Trump has attempted to revoke birthright citizenship of the US, which is vested in the US Constitution; 17 Inspectors-General have been fired. There was a freeze on all government spending, causing absolute mayhem, not explained, although this was later rescinded. In addition, USAID has been stopped, although this involved aid and vaccines overseas and contracts signed with the US government, and funds approved by the US Congress.  Also, all mention and programs involving DEI have been stopped and any screen relating to climate change has been scrubbed. I’ve probably omitted some things.  Pete Hegseth has been confirmed as Defense Secretary, and Christi Noem as ICE Secretary. All this has been done against the backdrop of the terrible Democratic administration which endeavoured to prevent wars, famine and disease and fight climate change, which is increasingly making more areas of the world uninhabitable – too hot or too wet. Oh, and he’s threatening to abolish FEMA, and disaster relief agency. 

What is worst?  Trump turning America’s allies into enemies?

That’s it for now. It’s Waitangi Day tomorrow. At least there is a treaty, even if it’s not honoured the way many of us would like it to be.  Slava Ukraini! Ngā mihi nui.

Today is Friday, 10 January 2025. Kia ora! Happy New Year!

We are gradually getting back into the swing of things. On Wednesday I met an old friend for coffee at our local café: judging by the number of people there, and the fact it was cold and wet, many others were relieved to get out of the house and meet at the local – café. We had a lovely catchup: it was good to talk about new granddaughters, studying, travelling and so on.

Yesterday JD and I went to see Conclave at the Lighthouse Cinema in Pauatahanui. While there we encountered an older relation, whom we hadn’t seen for years, and her son who was visiting from Ireland. There was another couple there who were distantly related too. They’re all Catholic, and JD was raised Catholic, so while I had many issues with the film I kept them to myself while we were there!

It’s a good film, I guess, and well acted; the costumes (of the men) are amazing. I probably want to read Robert Harris’ book on which it’s based. But the sound was far too loud; the sung music, while attractive, was not well presented (balance? timing? Integration? Sound?); it could have been wonderful, of course.  The Joseph Fiennes character spoke about the great sin of certainty, without putting it in any kind of context. I remember a conversation I had years ago with a Catholic friend who claimed that we don’t really know what happens after death. While that is true on some levels, I am quite certain about my faith and that the afterlife will be a happy, glorious experience, where there will be no more sorrow or weeping.

Another of the things that really frustrated me was the absence of Truth or Grace (Jesus was “full of grace and truth”, John 1: 14), or the Holy Spirit, although there were prayers apparently.  But it seemed to be a very human interaction, with no spiritually other than that shown by the Cardinal from Kabul (he had other secrets, too, of course!).  Spirituality was absent, it seemed. 

Another thing that so annoyed me was the artificiality of the situation. While the cardinals are following arcane rituals (like the English Queen’s death, or the coronation of King Charles III), this ritual (which purported to be in the Sistine Chapel, but was not – I was there recently!), represented elderly celibate men, no women or children. The cardinals wear ornate and colourful robes – the women are dressed all in black, as they serve the men. While this difference and lack of appreciation of what women do is a cause of severe frustration amongst Catholica women, the church seems loth to do anything about it.  The Conclave does not represent human family life at all. And there seemed to be no place given to leadership qualities, humility, or spirituality at all. Rather it seemed to be about what skeletons you may have in your past, and whether you hold liberal values or hark back to the past (which was better, or worse, depending on your point of view. Tommaso loses his temper when trying to open the plastic bag containing toiletries in the bathroom of his accommodation (private hotel? Former monastery?). Anger is one of the seven deadly sins. One wondered just where these guys had learnt these values, and what unnatural lives they live.  They did not look as though they have inner peace. Yet any television appearance by the Pope is held in such reverence. So, a film that was nice to look at, but frustrating on many levels. As to the late Pope’s funeral, there was nothing! But after his death I was surprised that there was not more reverence shown for his body.  It seemed to be rather roughly handled, to the background noise of what sounded like a heartbeat! But the dead Pope’s heart was no longer beating. Very strange.

This morning I went to a Memorial Service for an elderly woman that had been part of my Thursday morning singing group for several years, until Covid and age put an end to her coming. Only two of us from the Choir were there. She had passed away a few days before Christmas, and a private cremation had been held, so this was like a funeral service but with no coffin or body.  It was held in the Lychgate Chapel in Johnsonville.

Although this was a funeral service, there were no texts or hymns or prayers.  Someone quoted some verses from 1 Corinthians 11: 4-7; and there were songs played; it would have been nice if our Choir could have sung “Mull of Kintyre”), but that was not to be.  I enjoyed speaking to Ngaire at our singing sessions in Khandallah. We shared interests in our education, teaching, and our families, as well as sharing school-girl Latin, which has never left us. Ngaire was always cheerful and upbeat. I was more than 20 years younger than her, but we spoke as though there were no age difference, and we shared the same concerns and values. I thought about Tom Holland’s book Dominion, about Jesus’ crucifixion by the Romans, and how many things subsequently are seen in the context of Judaeo-Christian values.

JD and I need to go shopping again – at New World in Thorndon. There are now bike lanes on the streets where we enter and exit.  However I’ve yet to see a single bike using the bike lane. While I have sympathies for bikers, there is enormous frustration at the loss of carparks, and the general lack of safety for pedestrians. I wouldn’t mind so much if we saw these bike lanes in use, but no, it hasn’t happened yet.

In the US the crazy continues, as one wakes up each day to learn the latest online comment from President-elect Trump and Elon Musk. One tries to stay aloof, but really one cannot. Former President Jimmy Carter is being laid to rest – a huge contrast in decency and Christian goodness. But as Ngaire showed, anyone can be skeptical about Christianity, but be a good, cheerful person. You don’t have to be a Christian, but it helps! She was said to be a “sceptic”, but as one of her granddaughters said, she lived by the values of 1 Corinthians 11, and the Ten Commandments.

It’s now Sunday 12 January.

I’ve read two rave reviews of the film Conclave, in Saturday’s The Post and in the latest Listener.  Neither of them mentions any of my reservations!  But I’ve been listening to the audiobook on my phone, and it does tell a more human Christian story, I think. Perhaps I need to see the film again.

Discussions over the recent presidential election in the US continue. Most former Republicans, including most at the Bulwark, argue about what the Democrats did wrong. Of course, if Harris had won, they’d be crowing about their successful platform. The Dems are just too nice, they claim. Well, that’s the point, isn’t it?  On a Deadline Whitehouse report I watched on YouTube, after Trump’s sentencing on his 34 felony counts, Mark Elias claimed that the majority of Americans had voted against the rule of law.  While there are many flaws in the American legal system, it is a pretty useful rule of thumb that the law matters, that there are laws and procedures, the “mores” of any society, which, funnily enough, are based around the Ten Commandments. And yet Trump’s proposed heads of the law, Kash Patel and Pam Bondi, already are known to have “enemies lists” of people they intend to prosecute – people who have not broken the law.

Having said that, in his podcast yesterday Tim Miller quoted Ephesians 6:4-7 when talking to Amanda Carpenter, saying how Catholics tend not to quote the Bibel, but he did, in relation to Trump’s recent (non) sentencing. This text is about putting on the panoply of God to resist evil.  I’m reminded that this New York court case, there Trump was convicted of 34 felonies, was the trial least likely to succeed, or make any difference, to Trump’s lack of accountability. In Biden’s term as president, this was the only trial of Trump that went ahead. And in my mind it was very significant.  It’s unlikely that there will be future trials, since he’s already 78 years old, and the Supreme Court has granted him immunity for anything he does as president.  This morning I hear that Special Counsel Jack Smith has resigned from the Justice Department.

In the meantime, fires continue to rage in Los Angeles. Although this large city is widely spread out, the devastation of suburban areas as well (Sunset Boulevard) is just mind-blowing. Now a few days on the devastation is more apparent, while new fires have started and a new evacuation order went out yesterday.  It must be heartbreaking to lose your home, no matter how much money you have.  Electric cars won’t solve the problem of wildfires out of control.

It’s now Sunday 19 January. Yesterday and Friday were quite fine and hot here; but today it’s a little cooler. This morning we were supposed to go to a service at St Ninian’s Uniting Parish church in Newcombe Crescent, Karori. Since it was fine I went, although I agonised over what to wear that would be warm enough. In the event there was a very good turnout, of mainly older people, and no children. St Ninian’s was joined by worshippers from St Anselm (Makara Road, Karori), Ngaio Union Church, Khandallah Presbyterian Church and Johnsonville Uniting. 

It was a very strange service. While I appreciate that every (Presbyterian/Uniting) church does things a bit differently, I was quite unprepared for this morning’s service. We watched a video clip about the Holocaust, and then about Jane Haining, who was a Scottish missionary who worked and stayed in Hungary, and was arrested with Hungarian Jews and died at Auschwitz right at the end of the war. After these we were encouraged to get into groups, turning our chairs around, and discuss the choices this person had made, and what we would have done. Then there was a text from the beginning of Exodus, about two Hebrew midwives being ordered by Pharaoh to kill the baby boys. We spoke about that too. I remembered that when Jesus was born, Herod ordered that the baby boys be killed. The there was a text from Mark’s Gospel about not hurting children, and about it being better to enter Heaven maimed than enduring the unending fire of Hell as a complete person. We were encouraged to discuss this, too. Then there was a short Reflection by the minister. 

The minister did not talk about the desperate situation in Gaza, although two people in my group did mention it. He spoke about Trump’s election and inauguration.  I felt a bit let down by all this: I hope to be uplifted when I go to church, and get relief from the dreadful things that have happened, and are happening, and probably going to happen, in the world.  It strikes me too that this was all rather backward looking (apart from Trump’s second term as US President); surely we should be forward looking, while acknowledging the past. I guess we would hope to choose to do good things, and help the least and the lost.

And that wasn’t all. The minister showed another clip – the trailer for the movie “One Life” starring Antony Hopkins. This movie is a true story about Nicholas Hinton’s (the character played by Hopkins as an old man) rescue of several hundred Jewish children from Czechoslovakia in 1938, before the Second World war broke out. I have seen this movie, and I found it very moving.

In America, liberals are nervously awaiting Trump’s inauguration on Monday (that will be Tuesday here).  It’s the Apocalypse, said Ben Wittes, one not usually given to exaggeration.

In Israel a ceasefire has been agreed, and ratified by the Israeli Parliament. Between Hamas and Israel, expected to include the release of the remaining hostages.  Will it hold?  Will the hostages still be alive?  What will happen next?

In Ukraine two North Koreans have been captured wearing Russian uniforms and pretending to be Russian. The brutality continues.

In the US, senate hearings have been underway for the last week for some of Trump’s picks to hold cabinet positions.  In the Pete Hegseth hearing, he was heard to say that he wanted to bring a warrior mentality to the troops. Amongst other things he said, that is so very alarming. NZ troops have been effectively employed as peace-keepers, in the Pacific Ocean.

That’s it for now. Slava Ukraini! Ngā mihi nui.

“They cried Not this man, but Barrabas. Now Barabbas was a robber” John18:40

Reflections – before Christmas 2024

As we head into Christmas, it seems very strange here. Although there are Christmas decorations in all the shops, it doesn’t feel very “Christmassy”, in  contrast to Great Britain when we left at the end of November. Maybe that is because New Zealand is in a recession, it’s got harder to get benefits, and many shops and cafés are closed. There have been several birthdays in December, so they’ve taken precedence over Christmas. Most of our family are away but we will see one son and his family on Christmas Day. Of course, there’s church on Christmas Day and a candlelit carol singing service on Christmas Eve.

As you may have noticed, I am finding it really hard to “settle down” again. I guess coming home sick, and not being able to resume my usual activities has made it harder. For a while after we returned home I would dream that we were staying in an Italian marble palazzo, and we had to catch another train – somewhere!  I then would dream that I had lost something along the way, but we didn’t lose anything, miraculously, and I packed well. Our luggage followed us home, minus the wheeled backpack we had bought for our son’s birthday: after proving its usefulness in Durham and Europe, we packed most things in our remaining bags and left it in Canterbury for him. I had hoped to get another bag at Heathrow Airport, but silly me, that proved to be quite impossible. Quite unlike Wellington Domestic Terminal.

The Covid pandemic meant that we couldn’t travel for about five years. During that time, of course, we got a lot older, and more tired, and of course everything from air fares to insurance costs more. It costs more to be insured after you turn 70.  After a while, after relief at being protected from the ravages of covid here, I was desperate to travel again.  I greatly regret not having travelled more.

When we go to Taiwan, we can fly directly from Auckland to Taipei. Although the food is so different, everyone is helpful and respectful, and there are few tourists. Not knowing much Taiwanese language is not a problem. The bathrooms are always clean, and good to use; petty crime and theft does not happen, and the coffee comes in many varieties (Hot? Cold? Iced? With a variety of milks and coffee beans) and is always good to drink. The drinks are not too sweet.

But Europe! Europe is something else, and England was very welcoming on our recent trip, for the most part.  Although we had adventures with train trips, and the crowds were unexpectedly large in many places, we had a wonderful trip. For the most part, we ate really well. We had some wonderful experiences. It was good to know where I wanted to go – not always the usual tourist destinations.  And you feel that New Zealand is just so very far away! It was nice to be away from the local preoccupations. Of course, they have their own worries abroad, but we were escaping from them.

Now we’re recalling some of the great things we saw, and making some decisions for future trips.

It was wonderful not to be too hot or cold; we can still do lots of walking; travelling light is very good; locking our luggage is a very good idea.  We can still travel like we used to, albeit with fewer visits to special sights. On our next trip I would book earlier; book trains earlier; avoid crowded spots where possible, or have work-arounds for them. The luggage we took was just fine. Thankfully, it did not rain, although it was overcast much of the time, and the days were short. The weather remained mild and not too hot or cold.

Our destinations were wonderful, too: seeing our newest granddaughter, and spending time in Canterbury; going to Durham; seeing the National Gallery, the Victoria and Albert Museum, and the British Museum again; the Eurostar was chaotic (thanks, Brexit) but remains an excellent way to get to Paris (or other European destinations) while avoiding the chaos (and distance) of airports.

Paris is still beautiful. Venice is still a wonderful place. Ravenna was an interesting contrast, with wonderful mosaics.  We didn’t go to Florence, but we must next time; and spend more time in wonderful Roma. I regret especially not going to Scotland, or Spain, or Sicily:  maybe next time.  I guess I would plan differently for another trip. What a privilege it is to travel: despite the amount of time spent in airports, and the distance walked to get to the correct gate, in the correct zone, in the correct terminal! 

Below are some thoughts for future travel:

1. Avoid the crowds where possible
2. Avoid regional train lines: if there are stops, make sure the connections are manageable, i.e. there’s plenty of time to get to another platform
3. Go in the cooler season close to winter (except for Scotland!)
4. Book better accommodation
5. Breakfasts can be wonderful or not so great. Check them out.
6. 4* hotels can cost way more without giving better service
7. One does get tired of beautiful paintings and statues. Recommend variation in what one sees
8. Walking is great, especially on safe surfaces!
9. Airport walking and queueing is always wearisome
10. Get fast trains! 
11. Don’t spend more time travelling than is necessary. You can waste a lot of time getting to an airport, or railway station in plenty of time, to have them announce the appropriate gate or platform a few minutes before the plane or train leaves, never mind how long it takes to walk there. Locals probably know their way around a bit better.
12. Book in advance as much as possible, and print tickets single-sided so that the QR codes can be read by entry machines.
13. Most things are closed on Mondays: it pays to plan around this.
14. Many things don’t open till 10 am, sometimes 9:30 am. One needs to take this into account since one is waking really early.

And now a few final words. It is now the New Year, 2025, and the weather in Wellington has been cold, wet and windy, for the most part.  One fine day we went for a walk along Oriental Parade, and saw many sunburnt people. I fear that was it for summer! Today I’m wearing a jersey which has been in England and Europe.  It does feel very strange, but not too hot to be wearing a jersey in January.

The US presidential election happened while we were away.  It seems that a majority of American voters chose Barrabas. Who is Barrabas, you may ask? When Jesus was about to be crucified, Pilate, the then governor, asked the people whom he should release. He wanted to release Jesus, finding no wrong in him. The crowd called for Barrabas, another prisoner who was also a robber.  In my view, the Democrats did nothing wrong. They ran a good campaign. All the heartrending and agonising over what they did wrong should stop. Joe Biden was a great president, who achieved amazing things. But here we are, with Trump again, dominating not only US  politics but most of the world more than ever before. He hasn’t even been inaugurated President yet!

 Some Americans have only known a time when Trump dominated the political scene.  So what is going to happen? Who knows. How do you report what he says? Where does one start?

When we were in Venice, we visited (again) the Doge’s Palace Museum. Amongst it’s wonders is a famous painting entitled The Adoration of the Magi. Who are the Magi? I heard one woman ask. In case you don’t know, the Magi were three kings/wise men from the East who visited the baby Jesus soon after his birth and did Him homage, bearing gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, thus prefiguring his death.  This Bible scene was often a trop in classical paintings, who painted mostly Biblical scenes and mythological scenes. The different ways these can be represented in art can be very interesting, especially in the frequent paintings of the Madonna and Child.

This morning, as our minister is away, we were supposed to go to the Ngaio Union Church.  But I did not go, partly because it’s such bad weather, and partly because the trains aren’t running, they’re bus replaced. So I was nervous about making my own way home. If the trains are running, they have better shelters to take cover if you have to wait a while.

I zoomed onto a service at St John’s Presbyterian Church in Willis St. There was a wonderful sermon, where the preacher spoke about Grace and Truth.  This seemed so relevant at present where it is so hard to get the truth about events overseas.  One of the three texts was John 1, but this sermon quoted lots of scripture, about God being the source of truth: Jesus said “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life” (John 14:6).  “Everyone that is of the truth hears my voice”, said Jesus), only for Pilate to reply “What is truth?” (John 18:37-38). According to the Revelation, severe judgement is reserved for everyone that loves and makes a lie (Revelation 22:11), who are excluded from the City of God.  Grace on the other hand, gave us a Saviour, the Messiah, who while we were yet sinners died for us (Romans 5:8-9).

It has been very quiet here in Wellington over the last few days. One day JD and I walked up the road to have a pizza for lunch at our local café, only to find it shut, although the internet had said it was open, And it wasn’t a public holiday!

We bought a new vacuum cleaner at one of the Boxing Day sales. I think we got a pretty good deal: I was going to get a “stick” vacuum, but most of them are made by Dyson, which he wanted to avoid; and then how are they powered and emptied? And do they work on any type of flooring? Our new vacuum cleaner seems to work well, but does not have a manual. It only has pictorial instructions!  It’s a bit like our stove, a mystery. I think I’ve identified the main uses, and put the rest of the features away. Because it was a busy sale, the salesperson did not demonstrate the various features. It does come with a rubbish bag loaded, and a spare one.

My weekly cleaning has been restored, and so a lady from Access comes each Friday, which is nice.   It’s good to have a better vacuum cleaner for her to use. 

And so we continue, hoping and praying for better things and times. I have been watching and listening to a lot of World War 2 dramas and accounts, and I have a horrible feeling of foreboding about the increasing presence of right-wing governments, democratically elected, in countries which purport to hold “free and fair” elections.  I guess we are blessed in this country, and we have a great deal to be thankful for, as we long for better weather, better movies, and more kindness all round! Still, we can be kind to each other, can’t we.

In Ukraine and is Israel wars continue, despite the election of Donald Trump, and the fall of the Syrian dictator.  Slava Ukraini! Ngā mihi nui.

An image from Michelangelo’s painting of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel

Roma

On leaving Termini railway station in Roma we went to a nearby pharmacy where JD bought more tissues and paracetamol, and something he thought was strepsils but was a vitamin C pill you had to dissolve in water.  Then we set out to walk to our hotel which wasn’t far from the Termini, but the footpaths were very uneven and pot-holed.

We walked past a lot of restaurants, with outside seating and braziers, till we found Hotel Sonya. Evidently this building used to be apartments.  Well, they charged us €5 per person per day “city tax”, and breakfast is not free. It costs €15 per person per day. I’m sure I booked free breakfast.

Then there’s the lift, an alarmingly antiquated affair, in a cage.  It’s very slow, and you have to be prepared to wait ages for it. We’re on the 4th floor, so using the stairs is a very unattractive proposition.

There’s a small dark room, with a shuttered window that actually opens, and a bathroom with noisy fan with bidet, toilet and shower. Actually the shower is very good, and doesn’t leak, and the towels are large, thick and plentiful.

There’s a heat pump, which we turn down to 22°C, and thankfully the annoyingly loud fan goes off. There is a hot water jug, and two cups, and a fridge, two bottles of water, but no tea bags!

We go out again and there’s a small supermarket across the road, where we buy teabags, juice and more tissues. They stock alcohol but only have corked wine.

Eventually we go to Ristorante Maestro for dinner. I wanted to go to Tosca, but there looked to be no free tables inside. At Maestro I had Spaghetti Carbonara and JD had lasagne: two “safe” choices. JD asked for whisky and ginger ale: they brought separate glasses for each. I was quite enjoying the ginger ale on ice in a crystal glass, but then JD had some and so I had no more. I’m desperate not to get his cold, although the next day my chest is quite tight. The spaghetti carbonara wasn’t great: I don’t really like the bacon! And the cutlery was difficult to use, although the waitress gave me a spoon.

I sleep till 4 am, which is quite good going for me. JD is not comfortable but it’s quite noisy here so I don’t feel embarrassed about his coughing.

In the morning I have a shower and wash my hair with the new shampoo and conditioner I got in Ravenna. It’s great and I have a good shower. But these vegetable-based soaps (they had them in Ravenna, too) don’t really work for me: they don’t lather up well. It used to be quite a treat getting the wee gift soaps (to keep) from everywhere we stayed.

Then we set out to have breakfast. Most of the local restaurants don’t offer breakfast, or there is the odd one that does offers American-style breakfast. JD wants fruit, which is really hard to come by. We walk 11 minutes to a cafe, and on the way see Roman brick ruins that we’ve seen before. Much of this area is a building site, though. Rome is being rebuilt for a festival in 2025.

The cafe is very good, and despite the queue they are very kind to us. They do set offerings on trays, but don’t seem to have heard of non-dairy milk. I order an espresso instead of a latte, and toast, butter and jam; JD orders a latte, fruit and yogurt and a croissant. They have no more plain croissants so we order a chocolate one, and two glasses of orange juice. They do this so well! It’s all delicious, and the croissant is very chocolaty. t’s a sunny day, and quite warm. We go to another pharmacy and get more cough lozenges, some strepsils and a nasal spray for JD.

Today we have nothing booked but we wanted to see the Borghese Gallery and the Capitoline Museums. I should have checked: the Borghese Gallery is closed on Mondays. But the other one is open. We get a taxi from the Termini, and after establishing that it’s the Capitolini Museo that we want, it’s only €9 to get there. These museums are next to some extraordinary ruins: is this the site of the Roman Forum?

There are two wonderful Caravaggio paintings, the Fortune Teller, which I saw in the Louvre – did he paint it more than once? And a very beautiful young man said to be John the Baptist.

Wow, so many beautiful things. We have lunch in a Terrace Cafe, where we buy a ham and cheese sandwich, fruit, orange juice (they do it so well here), a glass of Prosecco and, of course, coffee. There’s a complicated arrangement whereby you pay for your food at another counter, then collect it. It seems very strange, since one wants to point to what one wants!

There’s a terrace restaurant next door, where you can wait and pay lots extra for table service.  There’s a terrace where we can go outside and look at the amazing view. Only in Rome would you get such a beautiful view of churches, bricks, ruins, some trees, statues of golden horses. This is such an interesting museum.

We get a taxi back to the hotel and nurse our colds till its dinner time.  Somehow the taxi back cost more than twice the amount for the taxi there.

We had dinner at a lovely restaurant opposite the Teat’opera. There was someone playing saxophone. We could sit inside. I had a delicious sea bass fillet in a potato crust with baby tomatoes and black olives. It was so good! I think JD had tagliatelle al ragu. Afterwards he had affogato with rum and chocolate ice cream, and I had semifreddo al limone – a lemon sorbet surrounding a sponge cake. Different, but interesting.

The next day was our visit to the Vatican Museums and Sistine Chapel. I’d pre-booked and kept checking my phone. We got a taxi there from the Termini Station so as to be on time.  When we got there, I have never seen such crowds. The internet or any mobile phone reception was extremely poor, and we could see one ticket which had been downloaded as a pdf, but not two. Even though I’d obviously booked two, and had the receipt, I only had one ticket, on my phone, and as it was on Headout, I couldn’t forward the email to JD. After all the mucking around, when we’d spoken to at least 3 people, with no joy, and we’d missed our time slot, we walked down to another ticket office where JD paid more € for us to join a 10:30 tour. We were able to sit down for the 10 minute wait.

There were thousands of people there, including many tours. Our tour guide sported a stick with what looked like a pair of underpants on the end of it. We collected radios and speakers: this enabled us to hear her, which was actually intelligent and useful. But the tour was a bother, especially as we’d been there before and didn’t really want to look at the animals room, or many other things. We just wanted to do our own thing and see specific exhibits. The tour ended up at the Sistine Chapel, where we could split off. The tour guide was going on to St Peter’s Basilica, where I think JD would like to have gone. But I was desperate – I hadn’t had breakfast, and I was very thirsty indeed, as you are when you have a cold. I had hoped we could buy a bottle of water along the way, but there was no such luck. We did manage to see the famous Laocoon statue along the way. I’d forgotten about Laocoon’s warning in Aeneid 2, about fearing the Greeks bearing gifts: “Dona ferenti”.  It was much better placed than when we were rushed past it in 2010, although there were still lots of people wanting to see it.

It seemed to take forever to get to the Sistine Chapel. When we got there, you could go to a cafe – where there was no seating, not even bar stools!  I sat on the floor on my jacket for a time, hoping the floor wasn’t too dirty. It was such a relief to have something to drink at last. Then afterwards we used the rest rooms, which were quite salubrious, and you didn’t have to queue.  

Then we went into the Sistine Chapel, which was the main thing we’d come to see. People are pushed in, and we went to sit down on the marble steps, but a guard encouraged us to sit on a bench along one wall. With relief we sat there for several minutes. There seemed to be less people, and we weren’t moved. How wonderful!

We found our way out, past the many gift shops, down the beautiful circular staircase, again. Then we got a taxi back to our hotel. Strangely, the journeys back always cost far more than the trips there.

We had intended to visit one of the famous churches later that afternoon, but sadly had no energy to do that.

In the evening, we went to Maestro again, where I had much better experience than our first night here. I had a “virgin mojito”, and spaghetti cacia et pepe: with cheese and black pepper. We also had delicious warmed bread with olive oil and vinegar, and the waitress brought us some delicious chocolate pieces. JD had fried chicken with chicory, which he would not touch.

The next morning we got up and left early to catch our train to the airport.  We had breakfast at the Termini; they still have the wonderful bookshop that I remembered! They did not announce the platform for ages.  There was an electronic barrier for tickets on your phone: that wasn’t working, and we queued up with other passengers to be waved through. Then we waited on our platform. When the train came, people were just so rude! Someone barged in front of me, and knocked my glasses off. Still we managed to get two seats facing forwards, near our luggage, and I was able to charge my phone in the train.

When we reached the airport, there was the same sort of scrummage, with people rushing to get on before we had even got off.

Once into the airport, it was easy to get to Terminal 1, with good signposting and several travelators.

Then we were checked in, given boarding passes, and handed over our luggage.  We made our way through security, which took a while, and then through the first duty free area. Then we headed for area E, and more duty free! We stopped at a very nice cafe for lunch: orange juice and coffee, fruit for JD, and a club sandwich to share. Just as well, because it was plenty for both of us: two big sandwiches, salad and potato crisps. It’s not overly busy here, so it’s nice to sit down and rest. It’s good to be early – navigating everything is quite a challenge.

Finally we leave the cafe, go to the bathrooms, and proceed to Gate 18.  Soon we are called to board, but as we’re flying cattle class our zone 4 is called last. We’re seated in row 18, but someone next to us has the window seat. We’re packed in like sardines.  The flight is fine, although we have to wait a while to take off. En route we served a drink – it seems to be coca cola, orange juice or coffee. The flight is just under 2 1/2 hours. Then we land at London City Airport, on the Isle of Dogs,  alight down some steps, and a bus takes us to border control. JD gets through, but for some reason I do not, and I join the queue of people who’ve been rejected by the ePassport machine. How long am I staying, the surly guard asks. About 2 days, I reply!

Then our stowed luggage arrives on the carousel – what a beautiful sight, and we go to meet our son. It’s very cold in London, and quite a walk to his car. The parking costs him £24.90!!!

He drives us to Canterbury, and we have dinner at a wonderful restaurant, sharing roast lamb shoulder between the three of us with dauphine potatoes, carrots and kale. There is a delicious jus to pour over the food. Yum! This takes me back to my childhood. For pudding our son and I have Christmas pudding, very fruity, with almond-flavoured brandy butter and pouring cream. Oh, how delightful it is. I have a lovely mocktail too. It is nice to eat familiar, predictable food again! I must say.

Then JD and I walked the short distance to our hotel. We are in a different room this time, but it is the same design.  In spite of our weariness, we don’t sleep that well. We’re happy to put on some clothes and go down to Breakfast at 7:30. And it’s nice, predictably nice. I’m even happy to see baked beans again, and the toast is good.

JD and I go out walking to a Boots pharmacy, but it’s full of their Christmas specials! We find a pharmacist, who doesn’t have Prospan lozenges but sells us something similar. We also buy another big box of tissues and some plasters.

Alfred meets us and we buy some lunch from the Moore Wilson’s -like market near the railway station.  We spend the afternoon at his house, doing loads of washing and having pizzas for tea.

Sadly JD and I had a terrible night, coughing lots and hardly sleeping at all. I hope we didn’t disturb the other guests too much. The hotel is very busy, since there’s a graduation in Canterbury.  We have little breakfast, and then try to pack everything into three suitcases plus one backpack, so we can leave the purple wheeled backpack for Alfred. It’s very cold here – about 1°C.  But it’s very hot in our room. The hotel kindly offer to look after our luggage after we check out, and we meet our family for lunch at a vegetarian cafe called Veg Box. I have a jacket potato topped with baked beans and cheese.  Then we go back to our sons’ house for a bit before meeting our taxi at the hotel at 4 pm. The taxi is going to take us right to Heathrow Airport. It’s very expensive, but then trains are expensive too, and there’s the luggage to manage – four pieces plus hand luggage. Eventually we get to our hotel.

Getting in is a bit of a mission – there are no trolleys, but we get to  Reception and they have a booking for us. It’s a room with king size bed and disability access; it also has a couch and things in very strange places, with very complex shower arrangements. I just wanted a wet shower! There are scary alarm bells everywhere, I hope I don’t set one off by mistake. I think this was the cheapest option available when I booked!

What a strange set up. There’s no luggage rack. There are no water bottles! 

Towels are in strange places, and there’s only one hand towel. There are no spare pillows or blankets. The hallway is very dark. Honestly, the more $$ you pay the less you get, sometimes!

The worst feature is that when we get into bed there’s a draught on us.  How very annoying. I wrap a jersey around my neck, but of course JD makes a fuss and goes to get someone to switch it to heating rather than cooling. There is a very British argument with the guard about what he sees on his screen and our reality. Then it’s too hot for me, but never mind.

We ate at the very expensive hotel restaurant that evening. Really, there was nowhere else one could go. He had orange juice and fruit; I had sparkling water and a smoked salmon entree. The waiter was either deaf or had little English and a poor memory! He did not do a good job.

In the morning we had decided to breakfast at the Singapore Airlines lounge. I had figured we needed to leave the hotel by 9 am for our 10:55 an flight, for which I had already checked us both in; now I wondered if that would be early enough. Anyway, we found the Singapore Airlines Business Class check in, and did not have to queue.

Getting through security was another matter. It took ages. And then JD had a problem: he lost his belt! We suspect someone took it in the lengthy melée. I never known such disorganized security. Another belt was there, but it wasn’t his. So we walked through the very busy airport looking for a store that sold belts. The first one he tried didn’t, but he was referred to a Hugo Boss store some way away. All this took time, of course, and our Gate B42 was about a 20 minute walk away. We went along, up, down, until I was so confused by all our perambulations. I had wanted to buy another small suitcase or backpack, but I soon saw that this was impossible. So I was reduced to carrying my handbag, my carry-bag stuffed full with extra things, and my puffer raincoat, since I could no longer pack it in a suitcase.

Finally we reached the lounge, up an escalator, with two boarding pass checks, to be advised that our aircraft’s boarding call would be made in 10 minutes! That made for a very fast breakfast in the busy lounge. JD got fruit, while I got juice; then he got coffee and a croissant for me. I only had time to drink half the coffee before our boarding call came. So we made our way to Gate B42, and boarded our A380 aeroplane for our long flight back to Singapore.

It’s a big aeroplane, an A380, and we’re in the middle of Business Class – we can’t see out at all, and I’ve not idea whether we’re at the front or the back of the plane.

The flight from London to Singapore is a bit shorter than the one over, but it’s still a very long time. But it’s nice to be on the bigger plane, with more room for everything.  It’s far more relaxed to have both my bags handy and a nice space beside my seat for my Kindle, phone and glasses etc.  The seats recline so the staff don’t have to make up one’s bed.

We get to Singapore, where thankfully there is a wheelchair. As we’re not going to a hotel, we spend the next few hours in a lounge. Thankfully it’s not very busy, so there’s plenty of room, and we’re both able to have a shower. When it’s time to go and board our Air NZ 777 flight to Auckland, again we go through security at the Gate. 

The flight home is smooth, but challenging.  By now my cold is quite bad, I have cramp, and a headache, and I’m not really comfortable lying down. There are plenty of coughs on the aeroplane, so I don’t feel too bad about coughing, but I wish I could breathe more easily.

When we get to Auckland, there’s no air bridge available!  There’s some drama at Auckland Airport. After a long wait, we’re advised to alight, and a bus will take us to the terminal.  We get through customs and border control (we’re forgotten to complete the electronic entry form, so have to do it by hand), we get a trolley and walk to the domestic airport. There’ve been big changes, of course, and I think the walk takes longer, although it’s mainly under cover.

By the time we get to this lounge, I’m all in. I don’t actually have another shower, but I do brush my teeth and change my top.

Then we fly back to Wellington, where a wonderful son meets us at the airport.

Coming home was rather grim, especially with us both being so unwell. I went to the doctor the next day, but it took two antibiotics and a course of prednisone before I started to feel better and stop coughing.  So I haven’t been able to see anyone. Now we’ve been back almost a month, and we’re still talking lots about our wonderful trip overseas.

That’s it for now! Ngā mihi nui.

Top of Form

Interior of a monument in Ravenna

Why did I want to visit Ravenna? I’ve been asked that many times. It was one of the four capitals of the Roman Empire, at a time when it had four capitals; I have an enchanting book about Ravenna by Judith Herrin, which I  saw in several gift shops; I’ve listened to podcasts about Ravenna, and watched an art program about the mosaics here. Most buildings are built of brick, with quite unprepossessing exteriors, and yet there are these wonderful mosaics inside. One doesn’t know the artists’ names, and yet they display the most wonderful skill. They also give rise to many questions: how and why do portrayals differ of Jesus Christ and his mother? When did the Cross become elongated rather than being four sides of equal length? The Byzantine influence is very striking here. JD argues that the great cathedrals of England and France have stained glass windows, and especially a wonderful rose window: the basilicas here have mosaics and wonderful floor patterns: floors, walls and very high roofs.

Getting to Ravenna was a strange experience.  It’s not on the main rail line, although cruise ships stop at its port. We caught a Frecciarossa train from Venice to Ferrara, but then had to switch to a regional train, which was some way away.  The first train was quite luxurious, and there should have been 10 minutes in between trains, but our first train was a few minutes late, making it a scramble to catch the regional train. This train was quite full, and JD and I had to sit apart. I had hoped to see something of Ferrara, but that wasn’t possible.

We rode in the dark to Ravenna, stopping frequently. I hoped that our 3* hotel in Ravenna would be all right, and that Ravenna’s mosaics would live up to their promise. After all, I had insisted on coming here.

Ravenna was a bit of a shock at first! We had been used to walking in Venice without cars or bikes! Now we were navigating narrow streets with cars racing by, and without proper footpaths. But almost everything is built of brick, and there are no tall buildings. Houses often front onto the narrow street, but there’ll be a beautiful courtyard inside, although often the grass needs mowing. From what we’ve seen, the people here aren’t really into gardening at all.

Never mind, we reached our roomy hotel. We have a large bedroom, with large bathroom including shower and bidet, and an entrance hall separating the two. The bedroom has a couch. It’s all a bit dated, and there’s some odour of a cleaning material, but it seems fine. The main problem last night was it was far too warm! I think eventually JD managed to turn the heating down to 23 C.

We had a short rest then went out to a local deli and restaurant for dinner. The menu is in Italian, and far braver than Venetian ones which catered to tourists and were much the same everywhere there. I must confess it had a lot of local specialties, and I did not know enough Italian to understand them all.

JD had a glass of prosecco; he had cavatelli, which look a bit like tortellini and I had tagliatelle with meat sauce. There was beautiful bread to go with it.  The flavours were quite intense, not bland at all. JD’s pasta had cheese as well as meat in the filling.

The breakfast at this hotel is a bit of a challenge. They’re on a bit of a health and conservation drive, which is praiseworthy.  There were juices, cut fresh pineapple, and lots of cereals; cold meats and brie; and you can make toast although it’s not good if cooked too long. There is butter and several kinds of jam, although unlabelled. And there are croissants and cakes, and excellent coffee. We had two cups each. There are no tea-making facilities in our room, although there is a fridge!  It was a challenge to me that most of the breakfast foods were unlabelled. What looked like orange juice was in fact a health drink. I don’t think that we are part of the biking/hiking fraternity they’re looking for!

This morning we walked to see the San Vitali Basilica and the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia. We also went shopping and bought a mosaic set for our daughter, a wee cup and some letters to form her name. The mosaics in San Vitale are amazing! And everything is so cheap here compared with Venice. And although there are visitors, there are far fewer people than in Venice. We got a ticket which entitled both of us to visit the sites of 5 famous works over 2 days for about €15.

We saw the museum, which was very interesting, and had lunch at a bar: coffee, fresh orange juice, a glass of prosecco, and ham and cheese toasties.

The next day we set out to see the other attractions that we had missed, after walking some way to find a laundrette. We saw a baptistery,  a palace with a chapel of St Andrew, and the  interior of the basilica of St Apollinare in Classe. What an amazing place! We also saw Dante’s tomb but did not go into his museum.

We had lunch at a café close to the Duomo, where they made us omelettes!  Delicious. Every restaurant we went to had large family groups enjoying themselves.

That night we went for dinner at nearby ristorante il gardina Ravenna. I had crumbed veal steak with patatini which turned out to be potato chips; JD had steak with not green peppers (a mistranslation!) but green peppercorn sauce! Truly delicious. We should have ordered salad. But for dolci I chose profiteroles, and when they didn’t have them I chose cheesecake with berries instead.

That night the All Blacks were to play Les Bleus in Paris, but we did not go to a pub to watch it – that was quite a long way away. The score was 30-29, to the French! That was our last night at the hotel. They had an 11am checkout, but would hold our baggage for us.

We spoke to the gentleman on the desk, who was very kind. He spoke about the rugby match, and about a cemetery in Ravenna where some New Zealanders who died in World War II are buried. I did not know that. He also talked about a Māori haka being done in the NZ Parliament, but the youngest member of Parliament, a young Māori woman. The news does penetrate, even here! And he congratulated me on coming to see the mosaics, and gave me two copies of a book about them, one for me and one for my friend who had also been here.

The Sunday we were to leave it was very cold, after fine, warm weather the previous days.  We were going to go to church, but JD had coughed during the night so we didn’t want to do that.  We walked with our luggage to the railway station, which was being done up: in the meantime, it was cold and draughty and had very limited seating. There was a McDonalds Café there, but we didn’t want to go there. It was full, anyway. There were very few restaurants open.

So we walked to a park, with yet more brick walls around it. There was a café in the park. They were very busy, but the kind person in charge let us go in, explaining that they did not serve lunch till 1 pm. No matter, we were just glad to sit down in the warm.

There was a large family group there who seemed to be having a buffet brunch; I was brought an espresso coffee, and JD a glass of prosecco. Then we were invited to order something to eat. Once again, the menu was confusing but I had spaghetti with cavalo nero and some kind pf creamy pumpkin sauce. Then we walked back to the railway station to wait for our train to Bologna.

You couldn’t use the bathroom at McDonalds without buying something to eat: I went to use the station’s bathroom, which had been done up and was quite luxurious. I paid one euro for the privilege.

The platform was cold and windy. Eventually the train came, and it was one of those complicated ones, where you entered the carriage and had to go up or down. It was very full, and running a bit late. We headed for Bologna, but the train stopped for five minutes due to a signal fault.

There should have been 20 minutes between trains at Bologna, but the railway station there turned out to be a nightmare. There were crowds of people, and our platform, 19, was a long way away from our regional train. We went down and down and down only to see our train pulling away just as we reached it.

We got a lift up three stories, and there were two customer desks: one for Italotreno, whom I had booked with, and the other with Trenitalia. We did not have to wait long, and guess what, more money solved the problem, getting us in Business Class in the quiet Zone in a train that went to Rome in just over half an hour.

JD found me a seat and then went off to buy something three stories up – more tissues, I think! That was scary. He eventually returned, and we found our way down three stories and then wondered whether we were after platform 18 or 19:  in our relief we forgot what we’d been told.

The train did come, and we got on. We had seats, but the people next to us did not bother to move their stuff or try to make us comfortable. And although this was a Quiet Zone, people kept talking on their mobile phones! Eventually we reached Rome, and the train took a very long time to stop.  But we were in Rome! Navigating the Termini Station was another challenge, although we’d been here before. It too is “in restoro”, of course, and is confusing.

JD decided we could walk to our hotel, which was, as they all are, only “about 11 minutes” walk away from the Termini. That’s true, but walking was a challenge since there were so many potholes in the footpaths.  We passed lots of restaurants, a good sign, and there was one very challenging pedestrian crossing.

We reached our hotel, another 3*!  They charged us €5 each per night, and no, breakfast was not included. I had thought it was. The lift was something else! It was an old style cage lift, although I did come to like it.  The hotel had previously been an apartment building, it seemed, so there was some separation between rooms. I did not feel bad about coughing here.

We had a good-sized room, on the fourth floor, with a window that opened, and an adequately sized bathroom with bidet and shower.  It had a wardrobe, desk and fridge, with a hot water jug but no teabags! Shower and towels were quite adequate, and there was a wardrobe.

We made sure the lift delays were not an issue for us, by allowing plenty of time to wait for it. We marvelled again at people with enormous luggage and wondered why they would stay here if they could afford such expensive-looking luggage. The reviews didn’t say anything about the shonky lift!

I’ve also written down some thoughts regarding politics.

I remain shocked and horrified at the outcome of the US presidential election.

With regard to Trump’s cabinet picks: I remember Brian Cox saying to his children in Succession, “You are not serious people”. It is hard to see the US  being further reduced to this kind of clown show, but they did it to themselves. And there’s enormous hypocrisy in complaining about the prices of eggs and gas, when the travel for Thanksgiving surpassed Thanksgiving travel in recent memory, and then there’s all the present giving, the “Black Friday” sales, and Christmas: it’s hard to believe these people are hard up, although millions still live in poverty, some with no sewage, and lead pipes, and breathe in chemical fumes; some powerful people seem to have disregard for the environment, even as they live through extreme heats events, to say nothing of storms and hurricanes.

Anyway, you haven’t just done it to yourselves, America, you do it to the rest of the world. We are all affected by this vote. And you had a good, honest, upright man in President Biden, who’s a human being, after all, but was a great American president.  How could you turn away from the good laws? The great economy? 

Trump’s cabinet picks are so awful, and there’s so many of them, that people are focusing on the dreadful Pete Hegseth as Defense Secretary. But what about RFK Junior?  The man who would abandon vaccines, and research into new medicines?  Advances in medical technology are keeping both JD and me alive at present, and hopefully for some time to come.  When I had an SAH back in September 2011, the techniques that kept me alive were only developed in the 1990’s, I think. If this had happened when my children were small, I would have been a vegetable, had I lived. Who voted for RFK Jnr?  Nobody.

Then there’s the complete disregard of the co-called law, where not only could Trump not be prosecuted for the many terrible things he has done, but some, like Peter Navarro, who actually were prosecuted, are being brought back into the administration. Charlie Kushner, whom Trump pardoned, even though he had served prison time for his dreadful crimes, is to be US Ambassador to France. The good people of France don’t deserve that, I think.

The Americans can do their own crazy thing, of course, but you can’t help encountering them: JD and I met many on our recent trip overseas.  While most avoided getting into conversation with us (a sense of shame, perhaps?), others displayed that annoying sense of entitlement that one finds so irritating. The American influence is pervasive in larger Italian cities, where a “Long black” coffee is assumed to be an Americano, and waffle makers reign supreme. When we travel, we try to adopt the customs of the local people, and accept that things won’t be just like home. That’s one of the joys of travel! In France, Spain or Italy, one has orange juice, a croissant and coffee. Merveilleux!

Back in New Zealand, the WCC have voted to demolish the City to Sea Bridge, rather than fixing it. Should a major earthquake happen to affect the bridge, the people who happen to be on it would not have anything fall on them, Traffic underneath might be affected, but this might be a few cars.  So even if there are problems, let’s keep the bridge for now, Apparently the Michael Fowler Centre is likely to be demolished, as well.  It’s been a good venue for many things – concerts, even opera, and a Labour Party rally. The acoustics weren’t great to start with, but now they’ve been fixed. Seating is tight, but you know it will be tight.

While overseas I visited Canterbury Cathedral, Durham Cathedral, the St Mark Basilica in Venice, the famous Basilica on Torcello, and many religious sites in Ravenna. I saw many brick buildings. I rejoiced in the fact that none of them was considered to be “earthquake prone”.  This earthquake-focus in Wellington is just so annoying, as buildings are demolished, or strengthened, then strengthened again, and many apartment owners cannot sell and cannot afford to do whatever strengthening is required. So here we not only don’t have really old stuff, what we do have all need fixing. What a world we inhabit here.

That’s it for now. Next, Roma!  Slava Ukraini! Ngā mihi nui.

Torcello: the exterior of the Basilica Maria Asunta

We arrived by train from Milan on Monday around 2 pm. The station did open onto the Grand Canal, but you had to walk past lots of shops first! And there was an advertising mural on the bridge. It seemed far more commercial than I’d remembered it. JD decided we could walk to our hotel. There seemed to be hordes of people everywhere, most of them wheeling large suitcases, and not especially polite. We walked and walked and then caught a water ferry to the Rialto. This was very crowded, and there was nothing to hold on to. Then we walked some more and reached our beautiful hotel. The man on the desk was very helpful.

Our room is on the third floor, a large room with a window that opens onto a courtyard. There’s also a fine bathroom with shower over bath and a bidet, and proper soap too. And it also has a window that opens!

I had just taken my shoes off when JD decided he wanted to walk to the nearest laundrette, about 15 minutes. To our surprise, the guest laundry advertised in the hotel brochure does not exist.

We reach the self-service coin operated laundry, but spurn the gluten free pizza and tofu offered locally. Instead I buy a gelato nearby. It comes in a cone, a scoop of coffee -flavoured and one of chocolate , with a spoon. And this is piccolo! I had intended to buy two cones, but one is huge and is plenty for us both! I go back to the laundrette to share it with JD, but sadly I spill some onto my blouse and jersey: ironically, since we’re at the laundrette, but I wouldn’t wash them here.

The shops are very interesting, well, most of them, anyway!  The streets are just lanes, really, but everything is very clean and there are no bikes or scooters to be avoided. Just  other people! But there aren’t crowds everywhere we go. These wee streets remind me of Thomas Mann’s novella, Death in Venice. What a sad story that turned out to be.

Then we walked back, buying a flower-decorated resin dish to take home to New Zealand. It’s charming to look at the lovely shops along the way.

Once back, we set out to a nearby restaurant for dinner.  Annoyingly, we were seated near an Australian couple.  I had veal scallopini with lemon sauce and fried potatoes – delicious. I love the way they do the fried potatoes! For dessert I chose cannoli, something I’d always wanted to try but hadn’t as yet. Actually I didn’t like the filling, although I can’t say just what it was.

During the meal I was given a beautiful red rose! I kept it in our bedroom for the next few days. Afterwards we were given wee glasses of limon cello and a plate of biscuits!

This is a truly beautiful four star hotel, but the bed let’s it down – it’s the most uncomfortable bed I’ve slept on in our entire trip! Still, the other facilities make up for that. The lift is really slow, but there’s a beautiful entrance foyer when you come in.

We had a wonderful breakfast in the morning: JD could have cereal; I made toast (easy!) and spread it with butter for my delicious scrambled eggs.  I also had a croissant con crema, and some fresh fruit, as well as coffee. The breakfast room backs onto a small canal, and you can see gondolas going past. It’s a real treat as long as you aren’t sitting next to someone annoying! 

After breakfast we made our way to St Mark’s square, a few minutes’ walk from our hotel. How beautiful it is! We went up in the campanile – lift only, and admired the wonderful view from the viewing platform, although it was very cold.

Then we went through the Doge’s Palace. We saw the room celebrating the Battle of Lepanto, which I remembered from our previous visit, and we went through the prison, still very scary. The “Noli me tangere” sign is still scratched on a cell wall.

Afterwards we lingered in the shop, buying books about the Palazzo Ducale, and about Canaletto. I would have liked to buy T-shirts for our grandchildren, but they were very expensive. Actually most things for sale in Venice are very expensive. What a surprise.

Then we walked back to the hotel before changing onto warmer clothing and setting out for our gondola trip. That went well, although it wasn’t quite what I expected! It was surprisingly hard to get on and off the boat. We sailed beneath the famous Bridge of Sighs. Michael, our gondolier, wasn’t a professional singer but he sang beautifully, just the same.

Then it was time for coffee and cake. It was too cold to sit outside, so we went to Caffe Florian. Wow! I had Caffe con crema, far more whipped cream than coffee; JD had affogato, and we shared a ricotta cheesecake that was decorated with berries. Everything was delicious, and we were served quite quickly. Everything came on a tray, beautifully presented, with water too.

On the way back to our hotel we looked at jewellery shops. JD bought me a most unusual necklace with green beads. I wasn’t going to say no, now, was I?

The next day (Wednesday) I had booked for us to take a boat tour to Murano, Torcello and Burano at 11:30 am. We were supposed to pick up our tickets first, from the ticket office in St Mark’s Square, and when I googled it the night before it looked fine. But although we set off early, JD wanted to get some cash first. We went to a local ATM, and waited to use it. But both machines were out of order. Then we walked to a Deutsche Bank one, but it didn’t have the Cirrus sign. Then we walked to San Marco, but there were crowds of people, and we had trouble finding the right ticket office. After being misdirected a couple of times, we were told to walk towards the Gardens, a long way away. We got there, and bought our tickets, but just missed our boat! Never mind, there’d be another boat in an hour, and we could catch that. So we went to a fine caféand had coffee, a croissant with apricot jam, and warmed apple strudel with custard.

Then we caught our boat. First stop was the island of Murano, where we watched a very impressive glass making exhibition. Then we spent quite a while in the shop. Everything was very expensive, but we did get a locket for my daughter’s birthday.  They don’t make the trademark Murano glass like we bought in 1974, and which can be found in antique shops today. It’s amazing to think we still have those six beautiful glasses.

Then it was on to the island of Torcello. I knew this was a must-see place, and so it was, although we had a 10 minute walk to the Basilica.  It was a flat, sunny, beautifully paved walk there, and it was well worth seeing. Hardly anyone goes to the famous basilica, but of course they have a shop there! Afterwards I bought a book and a picture of the famous last Judgment in the Basilica of Santa Maria Asunta. Then we walked quickly back to the boat, buying a cake to eat for lunch on the way. It wasn’t very nice, but I finished my apricot croissant that I’d kept from morning tea.

Then we stopped at the island of Burano, which specializes in lace-making. There were more beautiful shops, of course, and tempting things to buy. Much of the lacework reminded me of my mother’s generation, with their embroidered, lacy tablecloths and napkins. We bought a mask, a fan, a key ring, and a bib for our new granddaughter, and resisted the urge to buy other things. Then it was back to wait for the boat back to Venice, and find somewhere to sit down.  Then we sailed back to Venice, and watched a beautiful sunset as we went. I would have loved to spend more time on Torcello and less on the other two islands, but I was so pleased that we’d visited these beautiful islands, particularly Torcello. They are all different from Venice itself.

That night we ate at Noemi Restaurant. JD left his woollen cap there, but we picked it up the next day. I had sole meunière, and we shared a salad. The sole was nice – rather like flounder. I think I managed to eat it correctly, and avoided bones for the most part.

One visit we did was to a Taiwanese exhibition, which was free, but very confronting.

On our last night we had dinner at restaurant with a menu in Russian: I had crumbed veal with those amazing fried potatoes: JD had chicken. The veal is pale, and delicious, with a slice of lemon; I think anywhere else you’d be offered chutney or sauce with it. We did not have dessert there, but stopped at a bar to have whisky and gingerina (very orange!), tiramisu gelato (not great, they didn’t have coffee-flavoured ice cream) and a lemon tart. It all had a “Subway” kind of aftertaste.

On our walk back to our hotel we stopped on the famous Rialto Bridge. I think of “The Merchant of Venice”, again. 

That morning (Thursday) we queued up, not for long, to see inside San Marco Basilica. I don’t think we’ve seen it before! It was just amazing. We paid extra to see the Palo D’Oro too. I wondered why we hadn’t seen it before, but when we came in January 1974 is was very cold, and many things were closed.

Then there was time to spare, so we got tickets to the Archaeological Museum, now separate from the Ducal Palace Museum.  JD asked about maps, and was told no; there was lots about Antonio Canova, and there were globes and then there were maps!

Then we went back to the hotel and retrieved our luggage. JD asked the way to the railway station (Ferrovia), and was directed to Rialto station for the vaporetto. But sadly, we went the wrong way! Never mind, there was plenty of time.

We crossed a small bridge (awkward, with the luggage), and caught another vaporetto, this time taking the correct route.  It was very busy. JD’s luggage got swamped by other people’s, although we had tried to keep it nearby for a quick get-off.  There was a young woman with two cats in separate carriers.

Then we walked to a nearby restaurant to have lunch. We both had omelettes, mine with fried potatoes but this time it really was potato chips. We then shared a chocolate tart with berries, and had coffee.

We went back to the railway station, still way too early, and sat outside to watch the Grand Canal in the sunshine. It was actually quite cold and windy.

Going to Venice was one of the highlights of our trip. We did all the things I really wanted to do here except visit the Basilica Santa Maria Salute.  It beckons across the water, and I really wanted to see it, but perhaps there’ll be another time.

Slava Ukraini! Nga mihi nui.

Milano Centrale

Last time I wrote we were on the train to Strasbourg. A man we had met in Durham on the boat trip had done this train trip. That Sunday (yesterday) was a day of some drama, as it turned out.  We successfully got to Gare de l’Est, and got the right train to Strasbourg. I managed to eat a croissant and drink some coffee before we got on the train. JD caused me great anxiety by his repeated delays, leaving me with the small suitcase and two back packs so I couldn’t go anywhere. But he did show up with a bottle of Orangina, so that was nice. There were ticket checks, and then we got on the train.

It was a short trip to Strasbourg, and the connecting train to Basel SBB was at the next platform. There weren’t allocated seats, but the train wasn’t full. It was another short trip to Basel, where there was a 50 minute interval. So far, so good. JD congratulated me on having organized this, and printed the tickets. The architecture changed as we left France- German then Swiss; it was different again in Italy.

Basel was a big station, and confusing as large stations are. We went past a restaurant where JD wanted to go, but I needed to find a bathroom, and where our next train went from. It wasn’t at all obvious where the restroom(s) were. I guess all large railway stations have their own logic. I asked at an information desk – it was platform 6, but we needed to go down two levels to the WC. It cost €1.50, but it was clean with thick toilet paper and warm water, soap and paper towels to wash your hands.

Then we set about getting something to eat, and wandered into a German sausage place! I couldn’t cope with the smells from that that but had a double espresso and another croissant. We went to buy some food to eat on our next train trip – I had told JD I wanted a baguette with ham and cheese, but we were no longer in France, and this was not to be. I am missing French food already!

We bought some food at a convenience store, a long baguette which had ham, lettuce, tomato and egg but not cheese. It was so long I thought we could share it, but it wasn’t very nice and was very tough to eat. I gave up after I reached my the slice of hard boiled egg. I had thought this was cheese. JD bought more cut fruit. And then we went to board the very long train to Milano Centrale, coach 6, seats 21 & 23.

Or so we thought. JD directed me to this coach! All went fine, and fast, until strange things started to happen. The train stopped at Lucerne, and then went backwards! There were no ticket checks. It grew dark outside. We were warned that Italian border guards would be coming through to check passports and baggage, but in the event three guys walked straight past us. The train got slower and slower once it reached Italy.  There were no ticket checks at all until about two hours into our almost 5 hour journey. A guard then shocked us by advising that we were on coach 16, whereas we should have been in coach 6. Our train would terminate in Chiasso, not Milan. There was a very short stop coming up, but the next one, Bellinzona, would be longer (4 minutes). We would have to get off the train and reboard it, as the current one terminated at Chiasso, not at Milano Centrale.

We loaded our bags and proceeded through the train to coach 11, and could go no further – we’d come to another train engine. So we sat down and waited anxiously for the next stop.  When it came, we hurried along the platform and got on the train again, coach 6, just as the doors were closing. Phew!

Then we proceeded to Milano Centrale, stopping at Chiasso but then carrying on. From now on it seemed a very slow trip indeed.   I would have liked to use the toilets, but didn’t want to on the train. JD did use it, but claimed there were no hand washing facilities there. We were tired, hungry and apprehensive.

Finally, amazingly we arrived in Milan on time, according to the schedule I had booked. Milano Centrale is another busy station, and it wasn’t easy to find our way out, but we did and although it was very dark by now, it was easy to find our IH hotel.  It was luxurious by previous standards – a big room, and a lovely bathroom with bidet and good shower space. What a joy! Our fee included breakfast too.

We went across the street to an Italian restaurant, Pianeta Luna, which was far more upmarket than the picture JD had showed me. He had mushroom risotto, and I had ravioli with spinach and ricotta and sage butter. There was bread, too, of course, and JD asked for olive oil. We were given a large bottle, and one of balsamic vinegar too.  Afterwards we shared a beautiful tiramisu.

Breakfast was great. Beautiful orange juice; they even had scrambled eggs and bacon – better than the English bacon, I thought. I struggled with the toaster, but got it to work, although it was slow. They had croissants with jam, and without, and butter; they also had tinned peach halves, and stewed prunes!

There are many things to do in Milan: see da Vinci’s Cenacolo, see Michelangelo’s Rondanini Pièta; see the lovely Pinocoteca di Brera again, but silly me, they’re all closed on a Monday. And I have seen them before. I’d like to visit the beautiful Duomo again, but rather than it being near the railway station it’s about ½ hour’s walk. Our train too Venice leaves at 11:30 am, and we decide to take it easy and not try to see the delights of Milan. There is sunshine! It’s a beautiful day, and the first proper sunshine we’ve seen since we were in Singapore, although it was almost sunny in England sometimes..

The young women in France and Italy were well dressed and beautifully made up; the girls in England looked a tad overweight for the most part. I wish that I’d brought makeup: I did bring some, but left it in Canterbury.

We did not attempt to visit the beautiful duomo again: I had thought it was nearby the station, but it was 2.3 km away. JD had a shower, and we checked out by 11 and made our way to the station. And then it was easy to find the right platform, and board – first class this time. It’s been a beautiful fine sunny day, and we had an enjoyable train ride to Venice – about 2 1/2 hours’ ride.

When we got there, we had to walk quite a way, and then through the shops to the Grand Canal!  It actually seemed very crowded and commercial, not as I’d remembered it. JD decided we could walk to our hotel. We set out, and the crowds lessened, but we ended up taking a vaporetto to Rialto and then walking some more.

What a treat when we got to our lovely hotel.  There’s a lovely big entrance foyer. There’s a big bedroom, with a window that opens; a bathroom with bath and bidet and two handbasins and lots of nice toiletries, including cakes of soap. That’s a relief, since I left my tubes of shampoo and conditioner back in Milan. Oh, and there’s a fridge too, as well as tea and coffee making facilities, even chocolates. There are scuffs in the wardrobe. 

But no rest: the advertised free laundry doesn’t exist, and JD wants to walk about 15 minutes to a coin operated laundry. So I put my shoes on again, empty out one of the backpacks, take my phone off the charger, and ask him to bring me drinks of water. 

Interlude

We’re back in New Zealand now, and getting over heavy colds.  It’s frustrating but seems a small price to pay for having such a wonderful trip, where we weren’t held up by strikes or delays or extreme weather events or even extreme turbulence.

Having said that, it is a bit frustrating to be back.  Currently the WCC is considering whether to demolish the famous City to Sea Bridge, and even the Begonia House!  How can they? Apparently the Khandallah Pool is to be saved: the Khandallah Community fought very hard for that one.  But what a sad place Wellington is:  when we go to New World Supermarket in Thorndon, we now have to navigate bike lanes when we drive out. So what are the road rules for bikes? Do cars have to stop for them?  I do sympathise with bike riders, but really, it’s just so hard to get around the city, and when you do, what shops are still open?   While we were away, New Zealand seemed just so very far away. Although I live here, it still does. I don’t know that I’d like to live in Europe, but I wish it were a bit easier to get there!  Having said that, it was nice, while there, to know what we wanted to see, and not to feel obliged to do things all the time.

That’s it for now. Slava Ukraini! Ngā mihi nui.