Ciao Italia: Live from Italy

Hold up, hold up, hold up - before you think I am about to start singing "Who's That Girl", or at the very least emulate the Queen as she writhes and whirls along Venetian canals singing along to "Like a Virgin" - let me just say that, no - that will not happen.

Although I can only hope that there are people out there who will certainly enjoy that, I'm not about to in my current state of mind - being offline for a week while I cruised (double entendre intended, although the "cruising" part was unoften and unsuccessful), and finally trying to catch up with myself after 3 and a bit weeks of being away from home. I am here, barely - as I just realised I have 31 hours of flying time ahead of me crossing the Atlantic tomorrow to NYC then the Pacific next weekend to get home.

I do miss home somewhat, except glad I am away this week as it will be M-A-D-ness in the wonderful walls within Emerald City as the Pope graces the "great Southern land of the Holy Spirit" (did he really mean NZ? I think dude was confused, I mean look at him - can we say car-azy?!) and with about 200K pilgrims sampling Sydney's world-renowned gay clubs and saunas, oops - I mean Sydney's great open spaces for camping and manic Kumbayah-ing. Imagine adding 5% to a population in a week, that's an Olympic-sized audience, the gay bars won't know what hit 'em.

So while the Pope visits my home, I got to do a little switcher-oo as my little journey has taken me to Roma - his home. Or should I say the seat of Roman Catholicism amid the clusterfuck of old remaining buildings dotting this fine city.
Check me looking all pious. I am repenting my evil gay ways. Although, let it be known that since I got to London three weeks ago and traveling as I did - I have never been so touched and surprised by the deep deep roots of Christianity I was subjected to as I visited Church, after museum after monastery, after grave - that I felt this huge surge of guilt about sodomism. To avoid any Circles of Dante's Hell - I just gave head instead. Wait, did I just say that? It's the nasty gin they served at a bar called Hangar earlier tonight - making me all honest. I really went to Rome to absolve sins and wash my unholiness in the many holy fountains in the city (or should that be watering holes).

And so before we get back to regular programming, sing (or writhe) along. Watch Madonna's Like a Virgin from the Confessions Tour

Paris, A Baker's Dozen (#1): The Eiffel Tower in 13 Sittings

So as not to bore anyone with a random collection of a gazillion photos of one of the most recognizable landmarks in the world - here's another baker's dozen to start off this list. I first saw the Eiffel tower as I climbed the crazy escalators of the Centre Pompidou after being in transit most of the day. It was mid-evening, but being the summer it was bright. The clouds were sparse. The setting was perfect, and to be fair - surprising, as I didn't understand that as you reach level 6 of the Beauborg you would be floored as the city's expanse is majestic - and one of its many jewels doesn't disappoint.

The following days I'd get to see it from Pont Neuf, up close, across the way from the Trocadero, behind the Arc de Triomph, from the window of the Metro and twice, for its daily encore when its lights would sparkle for 10 minutes at 11 PM.

And as for the last time I saw it - that was special too. It was the first day that France would head the EU for a year. To mark that occassion, the Eiffel Tower turned a shade of blue and found a way to put the stars it tried to reach - right on it's chest.

See all 13 "sittings" of the Tour Eifel here.

Who Knew?

The Irish country side rendered me speechless - this country really is beautiful. And contrary to the greenery we are fed in postcards and ads (see left) - I got to see the Irish coastlines and beaches, more of it than you can imagine. And damn are these beaches pretty, all they need is the sunshine (it's ok I'm talking about the weather, EVERYONE here does). Pristine sands, rolling clouds and sheep - everywhere.





Here's what I got to witness when we went down to Maghera Strand. Apparently vikings came through here in 702 (!) my god the history in these rocks and sands. The dunes went for 16 kms, there were caves to explore but high tide and the lack of will saw us stuck in the sand...

And as if we hadn't had enough of jumping (there were more - check them here) - I thought I'd try my hands on the ground, upside down... this, to more than anyone, was a shock to me. Who knew I could hand stand?

The Mac Dad will make you: Jump, Jump!

And in the case of hanging out at the majestic Rossnowlaugh after a morning of hefty Irish rain where blue skies reigned - my sister, rather than just being my sister holding a camera taking crappy tourist-y posing shots - took the situation at hand and turned in to Mac Dad.

Or Daddy Mac. Regardless, she got me... well, you get the idea, but being the older sibling - she naturally led by example...


And just because with family you're wont do to silly things, I got in to the spirit of it.


More photos are here.

As much as allusion becomes homage, let me extend my love for a 90s classic some more - and that won't be wearing my clothes on backwards - I tried it once when I was a fat 12-year old, it was uncomfortable - here's that tune that inspired my shoulda neva have sartorial faux pas, or in this case my "ebordraw".

Enjoy - Kris Kross "Jump" (D*L*I*D Remix)