2014: A Reflection

The fireworks have finished, the champers is empty and the festive season, for the time being, is over. And so the perspective shifts. It's a chance to review the year.

Celebration becomes reflection. Living in the moment becomes a look back, and the chance to study, practice and apply things we learnt throughout  the year for the benefit of the next.

But what a year it was. It was a year where ice bucket challenges, make-up free self portraits and the arrival of a dangerously popular chocolate milk battered public discussions. New dilemmas with social media and crime have sprung, and globally the aviation industry's tragic year and the rise of a global terror has frightened all.

From a personal perspective, 2014 was a year of mixed fortune. Amidst the wild machinations of a Europe trip, a flat move and a new job were some challenges expected and unexpected.

Of course, 2014 brought me a lot of fantastic memories, and I thought I'd delve into these first.

The end of January brought a new challenge - dealing with redundancy. I finished at Perform Media at the end of the month and while the timing felt right, the unease of 'what next' became a difficult perspective to hold onto.

Regardless, I was incredibly fortunate to gain some contract work before eventually signing on with The Radio Network (now NZME.) as an online producer. My current working environment is fantastic. The people I work with are fun, vibrant, ambitious and incredibly good at what they do. It's been a very enlightening insight into the radio industry and I'm very content.

Then the Europe trip. What started as a mere idea 18 months ago became a surreal reality in August. As the months following the four-week trip tick on, one can only look back on blogs, photos, maps and the like to realise that this was a trip of a lifetime.

Six countries, four weeks and a transformed traveller filled with more wanderlust and the knowledge of a learned explorer. New friends were made, old connections were rekindled and the joy of others company was complemented by fresh insights as a naive solo traveller.

I learned more about myself in this trip than I did in anything else this year. One of the key work ons, being straight up when necessary, is a work in progress. Regardless, there have been plenty of instances where I have looked back on my photos with nothing but admiration and wonder. I will return some day.

Not long after I returned, five days in fact, I left my flat. The Shack had been my home for over two and a half years and while it was difficult to say goodbye, I felt the time was right to move on and embrace a new flatting environment. It was a move I'll never regret. I live with three of my favourite Auckland folk and being able to relax with them brings me so much joy. Kim is a sports reporter, Hannah works at World Vision and Hamish works at Yahoo!NZ. This flat is so good and the people in it make me very happy.

 

There have been some challenges along the way this year, though. Living in a spirit of comparison has made me angry, disappointed and resentful. It's one of my big areas to target in 2015, and one I hope will help me get towards a bit more of a happy head space.

Another is the powerful effect of social media and its influence. It's remarkably scary how we can be so glued to something the size of a Post It note when in reality we can miss a lot of things. Trying to reduce this is key for me this year.

And so it comes to the end of yet another reflective yarn. As the sun will soon rise, so too will my drive and ambition for the goals I have set myself. 

I'd love to hear your highlights and lowlights and what you're aiming to discover, uncover or do this coming year!

Tena koutou katoa,

Matiu

Taranaki's development as impressive as title

There was a moment in the ITM Cup Premiership final that had city slickers shaking their heads in disapproval and mainland New Zealand jumping for joy.

The infamous pitch invasion, after many years, had returned.

Despite any initial pessimism following the mad rush come full time, there was a realisation that this act - this act often thought of in modern day sport to be annoying and unnecessary - was in fact a symbol of what the win meant to smaller unions.

It was the first main division title won by a non-Super Rugby city since 1980, when Manawatu famously claimed the title. The significance of Taranaki's 36-32 win, then, has no need to be questioned. The 34-year-old wait for one of the younger provincial brothers to have another moment in the sun was over.

For local fans, the win had everything - a steady start, an element of coming from behind and the mental fortitude needed to close out the game.

Referee Glen Jackson controlled the game well and the match was played at a great tempo. But he was never going to control the fans of all ages who jumped from all corners to celebrate a win for the province.

It was brilliant to see how much coverage our national provincial championships receive in the provinces despite annual questions of its relevance. The front page of the local paper was splashed with buildup coverage for an entire week heading into the big dance, while city streets, shop owners and patrons were all dressed up in the city's famous amber and black colours on game day.

But not everyone was happy with the side's make-up. This year, according to one article in the local paper, there were three players in the starting XV who grew up in the Taranaki region. 

Yet despite the lack of home grown talent, there was a unity on the field - a team culture that reiterated the pride provincial New Zealand has of its local team.

It was there for everyone to see when Taranaki's Iopu Iopu-Aso came off some 18 minutes into the biggest match of his career. He sat on the bench in disarray. Then the medical assistant and a number of reserve players put their hands on his shoulders and head to console the dejected No.8.

Team culture was also a key factor in Tasman's revival over the last five years. It was summed up perfectly when they scored two late tries bring themselves back into contention for the first Championship-Premiership double in ITM Cup history.

The visitors should be proud of the way they played. The Makos forwards were superb and, led by inspirational captain Shane Christie, surprised a number of grandstand Taranaki fans when they shunted the hosts a number of times at the breakdown.

But it wasn't enough and the 22 Taranaki men, who were swallowed up by the thousands of pitch invaders as they hoisted the Premiership. 

In an almost fitting side note, the only people who weren't actively paying attention as James Marshall lifted the Premiership were the children. Young nippers ranging from four years old to 14 were kicking rugby balls, charging down the sideline and scoring tries while the pleasantries were taking place.

Short term imports creating long term local depth. It looks as if the hosts have found a proven model to silence the doubters.

Europe 2014 - The Soundtrack To My Trip

As the days tick on and get between myself and memories of my trip, I thought it would be appropriate to give you a different sort of insight into my Europe trip one week on.

You've seen photos, read the stories and cringed at some of the hashtags I've thrown out there, but there's still one more way that I think you can experience my trip.

Throughout my month-long sojourn I tried my best to find music that either came from a specific country or represented a specific moment on my trip.


There aren't many songs, to be fair. While I was over there I had my iPad filled with music as I explored Europe, so apologies for the small number of tunes. You'll also note that there are countries - Italy and Germany - where I don't offer any musical insights. I was probably too busy exploring or stressing about public transport to relax and soak in some music.

Regardless, here are some of my classic Europe trip hits.
 
1. Bailando - Enrique Iglesias feat. Descemer Bueno and Gente De Zona
'Bailando' is a song that I think pretty much summarises my entire trip. A fun reggaeton tune, I heard it for the first time in Mallorca and I've loved it since. Then, on my last night in Mallorca, I heard it in a reggaeton club where I was dancing with friends. It doesn't matter that it's in Spanish (There is an English version..), dancing with my friends to this tune was a magical combination that made me realise how lucky I was to be halfway across the world.

2. Naive - Axelle Red
I had never heard of Axelle Red, real name Fabienne Demal, before I arrived in Belgium, but by the time I left I became a big fan of the Belgian popstar. Ten albums over a 21-year career says it all I guess. I discovered her song Naive when I was searching for Axelle Rose on YouTube, after I'd seen there was a festival down the road where she was headlining. I heard the tune and immediately thought of cruising in the car to it. Saw her in concert and she was OK, but when I hear this song, I think of Belgium. Loving it.

3. Combination - Paulien Mathues
At the festival where Axelle Red was headlining, I bailed after about six songs to see what Paulien Mathues was like. I had heard a little of her stuff. She won the latest version of The Voice: Flanders and had a husky voice. It was beautiful. I went along to her performance and was spellbound. All of a sudden I became a fan and bought the album immediately. There aren't any videos on YouTube of my favourite song, Combination, but here's her first single from when she won The Voice.

4. Speak Life - TobyMac
Obviously not a European tune or anything like that, but this song will have a special place on my European trip because of the story moreso than the song. It was a cold summer night in the French city of Narbonne when I arrived after my trains had been delayed earlier in the day. With all of the hotels closed I had no choice but to spend the next five to six hours walking around the town and listening to one track - Speak Life. It's a Christian song that talks about the impact of speaking life and having integrity with what you say. I guess it was a chance for me to soak up that wisdom, all while roaming the streets of Narbonne for one cold evening ahead of my trip to Mallorca.

5. Am I Wrong - Nico and Vinz
This is one of the first tunes I heard in Mallorca. I met up with Barbora, Lucie, Tereza and Kamila and the first thing we did was head straight to the beach. En route to the beach, this tune came out. I sat in the front seat looking out over the barren, clay-laden landscape thinking of what a lucky man I was to be hanging out with four Czech girls. It was a beautiful time in my life.

6. La Vie En Rose - Edith Piaf
Obviously when in France, you should hear the occasional French song. That's exactly what happened on my last full day in France. I had headed out to the Pont des Artes, the wooden bridge full of 'love locks', when I saw a rough-looking man playing the accordion in the middle of the bridge. I didn't recognise any of the songs until late in the piece when he played what sounded like La Vie En Rose. It was another classic epiphany - I was in a place that I had wanted to go to since I was a young man. Here's a small cover from a decent Canadian guitarist:

7. Traditional Tune - Swiss Alphorn Quartet
On my last night in Switzerland I stayed in a hotel called Hotel Wannenhorn, a hotel in the small village of Bellwald that still has a number of Swiss traditions. My stay there coincided with the last night of the local Raclette festival, an indigenous Swiss tradition where they heat the raclette cheese and scrape it out of the rest of the cheese block. While I was eating my portion, a quartet of traditional Swiss alphorn players entertained the crowd with tunes like this.

8. Muzi v Nadeji, Mig 21 - Chci ti rict! (I Want To Say To You)
I asked a friend of mine for a song that would summarise Czech. She duly responded with this tune that is a mixture of fun and catchiness. The song itself is from a successful comedy and talks about how he wants to get her name tattooed! The trumpet in the song is a welcome addition. Riiiiicht!

Europe, je t'aime

The City of Love turned on the charm for my last three days despite patches of rain here and there.

Paris was a city I was 50-50 about. Friends of mine who had been there before had said they weren't too bothered by Paris, that the locals weren't interested in anything but cups of coffee and looking tres chic.

Buoyed by such positive news, I connected up with an old friend Chris and fellow mate April. Chris and April are both travelling Europe after working in a small English bar for a few months. Chris was one of the first friends I made in Auckland having arrived in the city some seven years ago.

The fact wasn't lost on I either of us. Seven years after rooming with each other in a hostel for a year, we were seen travelling throughout the French capital together.

Earlier in the day, I arrived at Beauvais Airport, an airport some 80km out from Paris. With he rain pouring I ran to the nearest bus, where people were queuing to get on board. I got on board and noticed something was up - I was the only person under the age of 30 and who wasn't wearing a suit.

As it turns out the bus I had hopped on to was one bound for the nearby Beauvais conference centre, where a large agriculture expo was taking place. Not an ideal start and a continuation of the silly situations I found myself in within this country I had high hopes for.

After persuading the driver, who was finishing her shift, to drive me back to the airport, I made it to Paris some 65 minutes later. A quick check of the hotel saw me arrive at the ibis hotel in Montmartre. The wrong ibis hotel in Montmartre.

More public transport confusion eventually led me to the ibis budget hotel, where I met up with April and Chris. A long day but a good day - I was in the city of love.

--

A new morning and a fresh start to my first full day in Paris. Chris, April and I set off on a sightseeing tour that included the Louvre, the Moulin Rouge and other extravagant buildings. What an amazing history Paris has, I thought. This, maybe even moreso than Prague, felt like what Europe should feel like.

C and A hopped off at the Louvre while I kicked on to the Eiffel Tower, an amazing structure that was built in 1887. I had seen so many pictures of the structure that I was prepared for some underwhelming thoughts.

I shouldn't have worried. As the clouds cleared and the crowds sifted through, I was left stunned by the whole area. The fountains, grass areas, the full complement. Superb.

The Notre Dame was amazing, too. Having grabbed a crepe from a side stall I was starting to get the idea that France was better than the incidents I had experienced prior. That France really was a romanticist's dream.

Walking along the Seine was nice, with all of the paintings, retro posters and French books all on sale only adding to the French mystique.

By night time we had decided to chill and grab some dinner down the road. One and a half days in and I was proper happy with Paris. But I had only just scratched the surface.

--

On Thursday I decided to chill solo as I let the realisation set in that I had one more night in Paris and indeed one more night in Europe. My trip was coming to an end, and in true Matiu fashion I set aside a an hour or so to let the reality of leaving another European destination sink in.

I rejoined Chris and April on the Pont des Artes, a wooden bridge that has so many love locks on it that parts of the wire netting had collapsed under the strain of the locks.

After a nice lunch, Chris, April and I bought locks. Chris and April are just friends and their padlock pointed to that - 'besties forever', it read.

I don't know why I bought one, looking back on it. Maybe it was because it was something to do, something for the bucket list. Nevertheless, I did.

I scribbled 'Matiu loves TBC' on mine before I threw two of the three keys into the Seine, the idea being that whenever I return with the love of my life I will find the lock, unlock it and then write her name on the lock and cross out TBC. That'd be awesome I reckon.

From there we hit the Sacre Coeur, which I would rate as one of my top three sites I have visited on the trip. Such a large scale and so beautifully ornate on the inside, the cathedral stood out. It also gave us a panoramic view of the city as the sun set.

I won't go too much further into my last night in Paris, but it'll be one that will stick with me for a while. Here's hoping it's the same for my two henchmen.

--

I checked out from the pad and headed out to the airport ready to head home. Sitting on the train and watching the Parisian skyline disappear was like waving away to my European journey.

People have asked me when I will be back on this beautiful continent. At first I was sceptical - the financials, logistics and stress were energy sapping and I wasn't sure if I could deal with it all again so soon. Twenty years, I thought, that's when I'll most likely return.

But now, after spending a month in Europe, I return to New Zealand knowing a thirst has been quenched, but one that will no doubt return soon. So to all my European mates who knows, I could be back before you know it!

But for now I sit content at Charles de Gaulle airport knowing I am on my way home soon. I've danced in a reggaeton club and relaxed on some of the best beaches in Mallorca, ordered all food in French within Paris and walked the Cinque Terre in Italy. I don't have a favourite moment, but those who read my Mallorca post may know one that could seal top spot.

And so to my friends and those I met on my travels. Thank you Libor, Lucie, Irena, Vladimir, Irka, Monika, Sara, Kristin, Sebastian, Sam, Kate, Maddie, Allie, Katie, Tommy, Baru, Karin, Tereza, Kamila, Chris and April. Thank you all for sharing your time with me and helping me to have a month long experience many in New Zealand dream of.

A poignant reminder

After a particularly successful stint in Italy I had pretty high hopes for my time in Mallorca. To get there, though, would require risk, tragedy and a bit of kiwi charm.

---

It started in Portovenere, where I ended my Italian sojourn. What should've been a relatively straightforward journey, though, started with an off course bus ride to the next town.

When I finally reached La Spezia, I had the small matter of where I would stay the night en route to Barcelona. I was to arrive in Barca on the Friday night and fly to Mallorca later that evening.

Nice was pleasant and a real beauty at night. The city was saturated with lights and sculptures that cemented the spot as one of the most beautiful in Southern France. I arrived not long after 10.30pm and checked in within the hour. Tres bien, so far.

I enjoyed my sleep in Nice so much that I slept in, perhaps my first real flaw in what should've been a relatively straightforward plan.

I found a new route and one would that would've comfortably got me to Barca in time for my 9.45pm flight. With confidence restored I took the tram to the train station and lined up to pay my reservation fee.

---

In breaking news a woman has fallen to her death on the train tracks between Marseille and Montpellier.

The incident is believed to have happened some time after 10, but police can't confirm any more details.

Passengers awaiting trains on the route can expect significant delays.

---

There wasn't a single moment of panic in the station as the news filtered through. Disappointment, yes. Anger, yes. Reflection, not a chance.

The suicide stalled everybody's plans. Delays of up to three hours were being predicted by the woman who served me as I waited to pay my reservation fee. Catching a train to Barcelona before the flight was no longer an option.

I was told that perhaps a bus would be the better option. I arrived at the Eurolines bus company only to find it was shut for the two hours in the middle of the day, something that is commonplace in France.

Upon the woman's return at 2pm I was told I couldn't make the 2.15pm bus as the departure station was at the airport, a 35-40minute drive away. Two options, both canned in the space of 20 minutes.

I was shattered. The chance to reconnect with somebody I truly adored was fading by the minute unless I was going to fork out for a new flight. Another unfortunate coincidence was the expiration of my Eurail pass was set to fall on the day I arrived in Barcelona. More expenses were set to come.

After a few hours of pithy pity and woe, I booked a new flight for the morning, told my dear friend of my new plans and went about finding accommodation for the night, something else I hadn't planned.

---

There is news coming through of a second fatal incident on the Marseille-Montpellier line.

A woman is believed to have fallen on the line at 6.30 this evening.

Earlier this morning, another woman fell onto the train lines at around 10.

---

This time the news didn't come through a ticket officer. It came while we were picking up passengers on said line.

A second suicide in the space of eight hours on the same train line. Not onto our train thankfully, but to one earlier on the line.

I was beyond any signs of sanity. Another significant delay, some 45-50 minutes, meant I missed the last connecting train to Barcelona for the night. The first incident meant I wouldn't be travelling to Mallorca; the second meant I wouldn't make it to Barcelona.

And yet within 30 minutes of this realisation came the sobering reality of why we were waiting. Suicides in France aren't uncommon, but for two incidents to occur on the same day - let alone in one's first day in France - was rather startling.

I spoke with a woman briefly about it all. My situation, the missed connections and such, and she was very compassionate. France is beautiful, she said, but these things happen sometimes.

It made me contemplate what sort of stage people get to, what level they reach before they make the mind-numbing decision to simply end it all. How bad it must be, I thought, that life for them is thought of as almost an unwinnable game. Player loses. No retrying.

I guess that was when I realised, probably for the eighth time on this trip, that I am super lucky. These sorts of experiences and travels can open you up to a world of unpredictability, and your characteristics can change fairly suddenly. I think I have. Hopefully for the good.

I arrived in Narbonne, the final stop on the Marseille line, at 11.13pm. Having discovered all available hotels ended check in at 10pm, I was stuck once more.

But instead of complaining and wishing the world would end for the remainder of the night, I grabbed my bag and slept in the train station for a couple of hours before it, too, closed for the night.

From there I picked up my gear and rather dejectedly walked around Narbonne Central looking like a man without a home. With the day that I had, it certainly felt like I didn't have a home. It was also the first time I missed home. New Zealand. My parents. My bed.

I returned to the station at 5am after a cold night and returned to my slumber there soon after. Another delay ensued before I reached Perpignan, Barcelona and then finally Mallorca.

While my rail pass had expired the night before I was able to convince the train conductors of the situation I had faced, and they kindly allowed me on board. Relief, I thought, my fortune was taking a turn for the better.

The long night meant I spent most of my time sleeping on the train and the plane to Mallorca and I felt ready for the penultimate European adventure.

Even I wasn't ready for this, though...

So Italy was awesome

Ahh Italy, a country where the sun never disappears and the gelato is almost as cheap as water, a welcome relief given water can often be quite expensive in Europe - choices are great!

Anyhow, this one will be a bit of a briefer blog outlining the highlights from the following cities. I've also been to Florence and Milan, which I've documented in earlier blog posts.

Rome
With only one night in this historic paradise, I was left with the excruciating decision to leave off a number of sites I'd wanted to visit. Places like the Vatican and the Trevi fountain will have to wait until next time.

But I've never been one to want to rush things. Packing everything into one day seems silly and exhausting. Combined with the fact that I had been sightseeing for some two and a half weeks prior and I was ready to take it slowly.

Besides, there was a reality tv show about choirs on and it looked interesting haha.

But boy was sacrificing a packed schedule worth it. Chopping out a number of places meant more time spent soaking in the other stuff, like the Colosseum. I walked down from my home stay and immediately reached down to pick up my jaw from the dusty ground. What a highlight, and then venturing inside and looking back up at where thousands would've sat so many centuries ago was quite the surreal feeling.

Given it was a Sunday, I also went to the Basilica di San Giovanni, where I prayed for a number of people on my heart. It's been an interesting time away from New Zealand but that never means New Zealand is far away for me.

From those two sites I left feeling sunburnt and satisfied - Rome was an outstanding success.

Florence
I will never forget the difficult journey that came courtesy of scrambling probably some of the easiest directions one would ever receive. Nevertheless, Simone - my host who waited for two and a half hours - was very accommodating and it was a particularly pleasant stay in Florence.

The main cathedral was another hat tipping moment. I was dead keen to venture inside and see what was on offer, but with a ring of people waiting to go inside I decided to be content with the exterior view.

The markets there were pretty amazing and lined with leather bags, wallets and all sorts. Given that most of the stuff is cow and calf hide, it left me wondering why I hadn't seen any of either in Italy so far. Then it clicked. I'd seen heaps, just in different forms.

Pisa
Pisa was beautiful and a night there was just what was needed. A nice walking city with some beautiful walkways, it was nice to just spend a morning relaxing and not having to worry about touristy stuff.

That had happened the afternoon of the day before, where I went to the leaning tower and was practically the only one not to try and hold up the structure. Seriously the silliest sight ever - "oh look, if it wasn't for me this tower would've crashed into the ground!" Well..

La Spezia
Stayed in a hostel with Australian Kate, in Biassa. Nestled below cinque terre, had a good chat with a Russian Kazakh called Yekrem. At least I hope that was his name.

It was nice just to look out over the valleys and relax. Not needing to ask people for directions or worrying about missing the last bus. This was peace and tranquility - one of the first times I had experienced this on the trip so far.

Portovenere
Having done the Cinque Terre I hiked up towards the top of Muzzerone to my next stay at Rifugio Muzzerone.

There were some stunning views and I was later drinking and eating with fellow traveller Maddie and American siblings Tommy, Katie and Ally. The beauty of bumping into English speakers in a non-English speaking country is there's almost an instant bond. A connection that almost puts people at ease. They are not alone in this different environment.

A rather eventful day followed, with a bus from Portovenere to Vezzano Ligure station before trains to La Spezia Centrale, Milan, Ventimiglia and Nice!

Milan and the joys of technology

Technology has advanced so much and while it has been questioned over potential surveillance and the likes, it ensured I had an amazing time in. Milan.

For instance, I'm on a high speed bullet train that will get me from Milan to Roma in under three hours. The standard train takes over eight hours to do the same journey, also that in itself some pretty choice.

But not as choice as my stay in Milan itself. The underground metro rail system was extremely user friendly and I found myself getting around Milan surprisingly quickly. One euro fifty got you from A to B and there were plenty of trains at all hours of the night.

But let's get back to the beginning of my Italian adventure.

--

I arrived in Milan after a relatively painful sleep at Hotel Wannenhorn in Bellwald (that's all I'll say on the matter apart from the bell tolls every minutes throughout the night!) and, having spent a good hour or so in beautiful Lugano, I was ready and excited for my trip to Italy.

Weather wise, Milan welcomed me with open arms. The sun was shining, there was hardly a cloud in the sky. To paraphrase a fellow Wellingtonian, conditions were perfect.

My host, an older woman named Luisa who wouldn't have been any higher than my shoulder, was your typical Italian: passionate, hand gestures aplenty - and couldn't speak a word of English.

We had one thing in common - we couldn't speak each others language. The only Italian I knew was from listening to hours of Andrea Bocelli - hardly sufficient for a hearty chat with a local.

Regardless, we got along perfectly fine thanks to Google Translate - a function on the search engine's site that allows you to seamlessly translate - well, relatively seamlessly - from your language to almost any language worldwide.

The method was very simple. While I could sort of understand some words thanks to her elaborate hand gestures (I must've seemed like such a baby!), there would come a time where neither of us knew what the other was saying.

Cue the furious hand-typing gesture. It was Google Translate time.

When I first arrived I had a 30-minute Google Translate chat with Luisa about my trip, what to do in Milan, where I'm off to next and what to do that night.

Many hugs, cheek kisses and even a couple of slaps from her, I retired to my room for a bit to freshen up before eventually hitting the central city on Friday night.

She had earlier advised me that it wasn't quite tourist season in Milan and as such, August was the month where residents would take their holidays. "They go to mountains, they go to rivers," reckoned Luisa. What an adventurous bunch.

By the time the clock struck 9.30pm I was back on the metro (nailed it, too) and headed out to see the Duomo for the first time. I've developed a habit where I tip my €3 hat to any buildings, monuments or what have you that I find inspiring. An homage to those that built it, if you like.

I was first instigated at the Duomo. What a beautiful building she is. In a fact the whole piazza was something else. I was in awe.

Being in awe for something for so long builds up an appetite. Naturally, when in Italy, it'd be rude to not do what the locals do - eat pizza and gelato. I found a wee pizzeria not far from the Duomo and grabbed one with spicy sausage. Add a Coke and say goodbye to €15.50. Now it's easy to see why spicy rhymes with pricy.

I boosted home shortly after midnight to Luisa furiously typing away on her typewriter (she uses her laptop for Google Translate obviously) and we discussed what I'd seen and not yet seen. I could sense another itinerary coming and I was more than happy to roll with Luisa's ideas.

Eight hours later I was back up and running and having eaten a croissant fresh from a packet (!) and a good pot of tea, I was ready to smash out some sightseeing once more. The Duomo in daylight was the first on the list, followed by a number of other historical monuments such as the Theatro Dela Scalla.

By 3.30pm I had returned to Luisa's house and was ready to move on of pump next destination. One final big hug later and I was on my merry way to Roma.

One of Luisa's parting pieces of advice was to ensure I had more than one night in Rome. "One day is not enough," she typed.

So I've decided to smash out Cinque Terre and then return to Rome for a day or so before heading out to Mallorca for the penultimate leg of my journey.

Sitting on this train, it's still hard to believe I'm even here. The days have flown by so quickly that I sometimes have to flick back to pictures of countries past just to assure myself I went there! Then, of course, the memories come flooding back.

Which brings me to my next piece of fascinating technology. Had we no cameras, how would we hold onto memories in 20 years time, when life has surpassed our hopes, ambitions and recollections of adventures past.

With around half an hour to go in the train ride I got talking to a retired Australian bloke. He is halfway through a 10-week trip to Europe and the United Kingdom. Joined the SKI (Spend the Kids' Inheritance) Club he reckons.

We got chatting about our trips and the last Bledisloe Cup game he went to, a 16-16 draw, before I told him of the 12-12 result from that morning. We were seconds away from dissecting the state of Australian rugby before he swiftly piped up about rugby league, at which point we wished each other well.

But here's to technology, something that has been my help when needed so far on my short Italian stint.

You're often a pain, but so far you've been a real blessing. I tip my hat to you.

Ciao,
Matiu