Now then, you might have picked up that we’re off on a trip, and this begins on Friday. After months of planning, scrimping, saving and desperately trying to sell books, there are now only two days to go before we set off. I shan’t be following the adventure on here (though I may when we return), but there will be images on Facebook for sure.
The trip came about because of Christmas. We have spent 21 of the last 23 years celebrating Christmas with Jenine and ‘the boys’ who are now ‘the young men.’ Being us and them, our traditional Symi Christmas consists of spending too much on presents and games, food and wine, and generally ensuring the day is like a scene from the Darling Buds of May. At least, that’s how the day usually starts. By the end of it, we more resemble Hogarth’s depiction of Gin Lane.
That’ll be Sam chewing on the bone, while Harry and his best mates, the ‘peskies’, cause a riot in the background. Neil’s haggling with Sotiris at the pawn shop, while I’m off stage left pouring gin down someone’s screech, and we can all see that Jenine’s well out of it, and no-one knows where the dog came from.
This year, we decided to spend the Christmas savings on a special trip. The young men are getting no younger and soon will be off on their own family adventures, so, before it’s too late, we should do a ‘family’ trip. Except, sadly, Sam can’t come because he has to work; the decision was his, and it is respected. H, on the other hand, is chomping at his retainer to break free of the shackles of Rhodian college and see some more of the world. All year, when we could, the four of us put money into the kitty, and at some point, Jenine produced a spreadsheet to rival those produced by NASA, and, when we could, we booked places to stay, flight tickets, and excursions, while putting some aside for spending.
There are many other reasons for taking the trip, and one of them reminds me of the Grand Tours of the past. The Grand Tour was a traditional, multi-year European journey for wealthy young aristocrats (mainly British) from the 17th to early 19th centuries. They took in the sights of the ancients and visited places such as Venice, Florence, and Athens. The tour was, in a way, a rite of passage. To mature and gain independence before adulthood. Although not a wealthy aristocrat, I was once young, and when I was in my mid-twenties, I undertook a ‘grand tour’ of my own. With a friend, we drove through France, Germany, Italy, Austria, the Czech Republic, Germany again, the Netherlands, Luxembourg (it was closed) and Belgium – in two weeks. One day, we had breakfast in Pisa, lunch in Florence, and dinner in Venice, but that’s a tale for another day. The point was, I had unknowingly taken myself on a grand tour 80’s style, as did Jenine in the 90s when interrailing was the thing. So, these ‘grand tours’ continue, or the idea of them does, and we’re off on one in two days.
The question remains, though, what is the route?
The theory is to open eyes to as many places as possible in the time we have, and this means quick stops and not enough time to do everything those who have visited before insist you must do. However, we will be stopping for more than one night in a couple of places.
As the trip came closer, we set about organising the peripherals; the new cabin-sized backpack suitcases, boots for the cold, wet and snow, handy picnic utensils for when we’re eating on the move, thermals, and rain macs from Temu that are flimsier than tissue paper, and designed to only fit three-year-olds.
I’ve also written my own rough guide to the trip with a side handout about Dracula.
Ah, yes, the destinations. I’ll let you know tomorrow in what will be the final blog of the year.
