Tag: Pandemic

A solo tour through anxiety

There have been many times in the past when Mr W has needed to travel for work. North Wales, Hexham, Latvia, Malaga… and I’ve not been able to attend. In February of this year he mentioned that he may have to go up to Birmingham for a trade show and asked if I would like to join him. 

At first I wondered what I’d do for 3 days alone. Mr W would be gone from 8am till 6pm. After two failed attempts at going to Birmingham in 2020 I started to think this would be another missed opportunity.

Throwing caution to the wind, we booked the train tickets. The plan was simple. Spend 2.5 of the 3 days in bed, watching trash tv and napping. A little pamper here. A little shopping there. In fact the biggest draw was the world’s biggest Primark. I wouldn’t have to worry about dragging Mr W around and could go at my own pace. The spark of excitement was beginning. 

As the date for the trip approached I started looking at Birmingham as a new place to explore and found some areas of interest for my daytime walks. Our hotel was right next to Birmingham New Street station so was in the middle of a hub of restaurants, shops and a stone’s throw away from the old town. What could go wrong?

Anxiety. To be exact, an anxiety attack. So spiteful, it left me crumbled as soon as we reached our hotel. After a rather smooth train journey from Euston I started to feel the creeping fear of being in a new place hitting me. Normally travelling does not affect me and I realised it was down to the fact I would be on my own for the first time in years. I realise now that the anxiety started its creep long before we even jumped on the train. It was when we sat waiting for our train in Euston station that I was very aware of the amount of people in the immediate vicinity. It was the first time in two years I’d been in a place so big, crowded and loud. Thanks covid! Emerging from the train to a new and hectic train station did not help and by the time we reached the hotel room I felt sick. I couldn’t do this. How could I even think of doing this alone?

By the time we sat down for dinner that night Mr W knew something was wrong. And there it all spilled out. The fear. The very real fear I had of being alone in a new place. How different I felt about being in cities after the lockdowns of 20/21 and my fear of being around so many people. I sat in that restaurant going to pieces. It was deserted which is probably why I was able to let all those feelings out at once. We sat and talked for hours about how life had changed so slightly and so massively all at once. I decided to not put any pressure on myself to stick to my 3 day plan and see how I felt in the mornings. 

By giving myself the time to adjust the following morning I was able to think of the day ahead with a clearer head. I had an exceptionally long shower and washed the previous 12 hours of fear down the drain. The fact I slept over 10 hours went a long way to reiterate that my mental health had physically exhausted me. Sipping a cup of tea while slowly getting ready and making a simple plan meant that I felt much less nervous about setting out into the city. The day’s plan was clear. 

Shopping. 

I wandered aimlessly around shops and found that nothing took my fancy. It is always the way, money to burn and yet nothing found to buy. The Primark was enormous and yet I realised early on that being with another person would make the experience that much better. The Disney cafe looked great and yet I wanted someone sitting with me. Otherwise it felt like any other store. After leaving I felt a little boost in going alone. Go me!

Not wanting to push my luck with my anxiety I head back to the hotel. Dinner that night was a much calmer experience and I wondered what the next day would bring.

After another soothing lay-in and pamper, I head in the opposite direction of the shopping centre. Birmingham’s old town was calling. I spent some time in the shadow of St Philips Cathedral before winding my way through the streets. I strolled past the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery and Town Hall, both so beautiful that my intrigue calmed my nerves. My next destination called to me like a beacon. Birmingham library. Was this nerd going to a library? Yes. Was it to see books? Nope!

Birmingham library has a rooftop garden which is free to enter and it may have been the sole reason I had ventured out that day. There is something about an urban rooftop garden’s juxtaposition that I enjoy very much. The paths on the roof wound around pockets of planting that despite the chilly March weather brought the space to life. Semi-circular benches framed the flower beds and I spent a lingering moment sitting in the sunshine. From here I wandered over to the canal that made its way through Gas Street Basin. 

The calming nature of water washed over me as I walked along the bricked bank of the canal and started to thoroughly enjoy myself. Barges were moored up one by one and the restaurants and pubs that lined the walkways were quietly waiting for their first customers of the day.  I walked around the buildings of Brindleyplace and found corners of greenery in the vast expanses of stone and tarmac. 

Arriving back at the hotel I found I felt more relaxed than I had for days. Estimating the time Mr W would disembark his train, I walked to the train station and looked for him coming through the turnstiles. Unable to see me through the crowds I was able to follow him as he headed to where he thought I would be waiting. I was able to follow him straight into the hotel foyer where he turned wondering who was behind him. It took him at least 3 seconds to recognise me and I laughed freely at the ruse. 

The next day was our last in Birmingham and he had to work. I had over five hours to lose while waiting for our train departure. So for the first time in my life I went to the cinema on my own. I wondered if people would think I was weird. I wondered about a lot of things. In total, there were 5 people in that screening and after the film I realised being alone isn’t something to be scared of. 

I took the train to meet Mr W so we could head home. Meeting him on that platform I felt a wave of calm wash over me and I sat in quiet contemplation for the first hour of our journey home. I started forgiving myself for the times in the last 3 days that I had beaten myself up. 

The last two years have been hard for everyone in multiple ways and when it came to being kind to ourselves I fell short of doing so. 

So what if it took me all morning to leave the hotel to go shopping.

So what if I needed to take refuge from a new city in the shadows.

And so what if I cried at the thought of being alone. 

The pandemic pushed us so far out of our comfort zones that it will take time to repair our mental health. All at once is not going to work. In fact, as I found out on that first evening in Birmingham, jumping in at the deep end was such a shock to the system that I just crashed and shut down. That anxiety attack was the biggest indicator of how the pandemic affected my mental health. 

I’ve learned a lot since then. I’m able to vocalise when my anxiety is starting to take over. And even though I may not know why I feel so bad, I give myself the time to pass through it rather than try and skirt around the issue. Being kind to ourselves doesn’t necessarily mean solving a problem to continue on with our day but giving ourselves the same comfort as others we would stop and help. To listen rather than give answers and advice. To guide through and know there is another side to the story. Though the path may be dark, if we continue to move forward we’ll find the light along the way. 

Steps that count

44,162 steps – Northumberland – 3.5 days

14,878 steps – Greenwich – 1 day

Unknown steps – Tunisia – 1 week

Before the pandemic and certainly before Mr W, holidays were spent either walking around New York, pacing out the heavily padded itinerary or on a sunlounger on the beach. It was either ALL the walking possible or none at all. 

Since Mr W and I have travelled together there have been the odd holidays that we’ve sat down, maybe 2 in 9 years, and I couldn’t say for sure that that is. It seems we have an inability to sit still. 

Our first trip together was in October 2013. Tunisia was not a place that I’d ever thought to travel to but was cheap enough and still warm enough that late in the year that it ticked enough boxes for a short week away. The ticked boxes from the travel agent were proven correct with hot sunny days followed by balmy nights. I was looking forward to sitting by the pool with a plus one for the first time in my life. And I’ll say it, I wanted to show our relationship off to the world. I was happy and wanted to shout it from the rooftops. We spent hours in the pool, swimming, playing and laughing. One lady swam past us sighing, saying ‘It’s so nice to see a couple having fun’. I practically skipped back to the lounger. 

I foresaw the rest of our days in Tunisia playing out similarly. Sun, lounger, pool, book, naps and love. On maybe the 3rd day, we dragged ourselves out of bed quite late and made our way down to the secluded pool where it seemed only adults ventured. Book and bag in hand, I layed down in the dappled shade and set myself up for a day of warm breezes and the latest storyline of my new book. In my peripheral vision, I could see Mr W, he wasn’t lying down or grabbing his book. He was sitting as you would do while you wait for a bus. I asked him what was up. He said ‘Do you want to go and explore the local area?’. With all my being I wanted to scream, NO! I’ve literally just sat down! And yet we did go out, we walked to the local market. The next day we took a train to the next town along. The day after we took a little tourist road train to another town. It wasn’t until we were reaching the end of the week when we finally ventured onto the beach and I again attempted to surf the beach sofa. Soon his static body entered my peripheral vision and his boredom and utter dislike of being there had us moving somewhere else. 

Do I think that’s where the busy holidays started? No. 

Do I think that’s where the lazy holidays ended? Quite possibly. 

We’ve spent time with family in Majorcan villas but did we sit still for longer than half a day? Also no. 

When the pandemic hit and we moved our Italy trip to the autumn from spring, we felt that we were insanely lucky to even travel. The week travelling from Florence to Venice without too much interruption from the covid laws felt like the deepest breath we had taken in 6 months. We wanted to make every step count. Every single minute of those six days felt magical. Every plan fell into place. Every smile fell naturally onto our lips. Regardless of how busy we were, there was no moaning about tired feet, only an appreciation for the freedom to travel. We didn’t want to waste a single second. 

Now, almost two years later, we have spent three long weekends hiking and pushing ourselves past our once thought of limits. The trips have been eye-opening in so many ways and we have such a new passion for countryside vacations and our limits will be pushed furthermore when we go to Scotland and try wild swimming and even longer hikes. 

When I used to pound the sidewalks of New York from 8am to 8pm I wouldn’t stop to think how many miles I had walked. To be fair, I didn’t have the technology to count the mileage/steps. I can only hazard a guess that I walked upwards of 9 miles a day. So why am I now seeing 5 miles a day as such a big deal? Maybe because it’s brought to my attention by watches and apps that notify you before you ask them to. Or because I still find it amusing that some place, like Northumberland, I once saw as inferior to New York, is now on the same level when it comes to awe-inspiring. I never would have guessed that I would choose to walk and hike the UK with as much gusto as I did exploring abroad. Times have certainly changed!

We have been talking recently, Mr W and I, about taking a vacation somewhere warm, with a pool. A villa break for just us. It has come to our attention that we need some time to stop. We need to jump in the pool and only emerge from it because of pruney fingertips. We need to start and finish the book we haven’t got time for at home. The afternoon naps. The late mornings. The step count being in the hundreds rather than the thousands. 

So far, we haven’t had the luck of booking the trip. However, even though we now see the value of exploring and travelling more than ever and our new found appreciation for hiking is pushing us beyond boundaries we didn’t know existed, we have come to a bigger realisation. 

It is to stop. Even though it is often said that every step we take when travelling is precious, I think it may be the steps we don’t take that can be just as important. When we start to travel again in the opening world, we are pushed by the memory of being locked away in our homes to go further than ever before and take on personal challenges that we’ve always avoided. 

By doing this, we are pushing ourselves so hard all the time that we will forget what was good about being locked away in the first place. The simplicities of a good lunch in the sunshine. A night watching the stars with a cup of tea. Drawing a blanket up under your chin for an early night’s sleep. A walk in the country to give your lungs a fresh breath. 

These steps count too. Whether they are counted by your watch or listed on an app. 

These are the non-steps that keep you still long enough to save your tired soles for their next big leap into the unknown. 

Step one. Stay still. 

Travelling after a pandemic

Other than Italy in September 2020, we have not left the country since October 2019. There is no denial that our trip in September 2020 was incredible. The freedom we felt travelling was second to none. We were so lucky and I know we experienced an Italy that few get to see. Virtually empty, the streets were pleasant to wander in and yet a stark reminder of what the world was enduring. (Links to the Italy trip are at the bottom of this piece.)

Since then we have dabbled in travelling the UK. I set my first foot into Scotland and we have been to Northumberland three times. I truly believe that we have travelled more of the UK than ever due to the pandemic. It begs the question, would we have done so otherwise?

In only a few weeks we’ll be spending two weeks in Scotland travelling the NC500 and it’ll be our biggest and most involved trip ever as a couple. It will challenge our body capabilities and sense of perseverance more than any other joint trip together. And we are so excited! Together we have my stubbornness and his positivity, I have no doubt that we will meet and complete every challenge head on!

Owing to the fact that the world is becoming a less scary place and feeling the need to completely shut down, we want to book a trip away to do nothing. As amazing as our last few trips have been, we have started to realise that we do not stop. When we travel we go full throttle. Up early, on the go all day, physical challenges and often have late nights. Most of the time this is true for life at home. We have a very busy social life and even busier time going out for the day and enjoying every minute of our weekends together. I am sitting here reminding myself that these busy times are NOT to be seen as chores and they are there to be enjoyed. It is a change of mind that is necessary to stop the ‘we’re always busy’ thought pattern. Yes, we are busy, but it’s not something to moan about, it is something to enjoy. We have taken to blocking out days and at times full weekends in order to force ourselves to stay home and spend time in the house we love. It has helped us massively. 

It is only recently, with the hot weather, we have started to consider travelling abroad again. In the past we have spent time renting a villa and car in Majorca and deciding if and when we want to explore when we get there. Just the other day I was saying to Mr W how much joy I find in shopping for groceries when we are on the island. We often land in Palma, go to the car rental office and then head to the supermarket. It is so relaxing. There aren’t too many people, the food is so fresh and I find that we eat so much healthier when in a hot country. Fresh, crunchy salads and lots of crisp, sweet fruit. Eating is more intuitive than at home because we aren’t parked in front of a tv. There will be nights sat out on the terrace in the cool temperature and no wondering what needs to be done on a list of household chores. 

We have never done one of these trips alone and we’ve discussed it a fair few times. So in our talks regarding 2023 travels we have come up with a plan to have one relaxing trip and then an extended backpacking trip. Possibly in Italy. (Watch this space.)

With a relaxing trip in mind, we once again returned to the idea of renting a villa. Just us. On one of our coffee mornings in bed we started (meaning me) collecting prices and putting together a rough budget for said trip. We found a lovely little villa on the outskirts of Pollensa within our budget and set about looking at dates and flights. By now we know where to look for the villa, car and flights so it feels like a really easy process. 

As of two days ago it seemed it was full steam ahead and after the recent heatwave you may have some understanding of how exciting it will be to be able to escape the Spanish sun by jumping in the pool or retreating into the arctic air that is pumped out by the air-con. Oh how the UK needs to adopt the air conditioning movement of other countries!

With the restrictions in place over the past 2.5 years and all the recent chaos in airports around the world we have started wondering when it will be the right time to travel again. It has transported me back to March 2020. Our impending trip to Italy had been cancelled and most of the money was tied up in vouchers to be used within a year. I did not like the outlook. How could the biggest pandemic this generation had ever known be over within a year? So, with a ‘sodd it’ yet cautious attitude we rebooked our trip just 6 weeks ahead of the September travel time. And it worked out amazingly. We did not need to take covid tests, there was no extra paperwork and restrictions were at their worst, wearing a mask in all public areas.  

Yesterday our minds made up, budget set and a very similar ‘sodd it’ like attitude, I secured our house sitter and sat down to click those all consuming ‘confirm’ buttons. There are so few restrictions now that it’s down to the individual to whether they wear a mask and most countries, especially in Europe, require proof of vaccination rather than a clear PCR test. Sometimes you do need to do a PCR test which is always a bit risky but Spain has three requirements, only one of which you need to fulfil. We fulfil our one by being vaccinated. 

So I sat down to book the trip. Flights. Villa. Insurance. 

And then the provider sucker punched me through my laptop screen. In the space of 6 hours the price of the villa had increased by 30%. I mean, come on! This has completely derailed our budget and after checking out other providers it seems it is an industry wide increase. So I send this question out into the void of the internet. Why? What has happened to suddenly skyrocket the prices?

I spent the better part of an hour this morning having a look around and can’t seem to find a reason. So for now, I’m sitting back and waiting. Something I really hate to do but finding a sense of growth in myself that never used to be there. The patience will surely pay off when I find a villa that hasn’t slapped our budget all over the show. 

Until then I will remind myself that travelling is a privilege not an entitlement. Maybe I need to plan a UK break within the same budget parameters just in case? If I open the car window and feel the wind in my hair I can pretend that I am soaring above the clouds. Although… windows don’t open on planes. The plan is flawed. But I’ll do it all the same!

A piece of Pisa
Faith in Florence
Food and fretting in Florence
Hot chocolate in the clouds
Final frolics in Florence
Stories of Venice – Part one
Stories of Venice – Part two
Stories of Venice part three
Hindhope Linn
A hop, skip and a fracture.
Donuts
Northumberland in 4 days

Faith in Florence

Having only been to Italy once before I had no real expectations of Florence. The only interaction I had had with the city was through a book by Dan Brown which had been turned into a movie starring the god that is Tom Hanks. That is where my knowledge started and ended. Even then the film darted from city to city and country to country. It doesn’t do much to whet the appetite. 

Mr W had always said he wanted to go and as we were to be celebrating his birthday, it was an easy decision. Bookings made, postponed due to covid and re-booked for September 2020 and here we were. 

Florence! We arrive in the city not long before 10pm and make our way from Santa Maria Novella Station to our apartment. It is a 10 minute walk to Via de Brunelleschi and the city is dark. Only a few businesses are open, mostly food on offer and we are both tired. We have to pick up our key for the apartment in another complex and my arse drops out when the man at the reception desk can’t find our key. After triple checking every drawer, lockbox and reading all instructions he finally finds it. I scoop my arse up off the floor and we continue on our way. We glimpse the Duomo as we emerge from Via Martelli. It appears ghostly in the dark night with only a few lights shining on the green, pink and white marble facade. It doesn’t feel real. We’ve been travelling for over 7 hours, travelling during covid is different enough to make the hours longer, and we are ready to rest our backpacks. The city is falling to sleep and we aren’t far behind. 

We fall into the most amazing apartment and sleep soundly. Mr W in particular wonders what the morning will bring!

The following morning feels like a dream. We aren’t used to arriving so late into a city and so waking up here this morning is like arriving all over again. Before we found the apartment the night before we grabbed a breaded chicken panini and half of it is waiting for us in the fridge. Our day begins at 8am and I find myself praising the huge shower. I need to wash the previous day off my body and out of my mind. It is a luxury I do not want to leave. The sun is gleaming outside and I am wondering whether my choice of jeans and a jumper is appropriate.

Our first port of call this morning is the Palazzo Vecchio and Arnolfo’s Tower. It’s only a 6 minute walk and there aren’t many distractions, the city is still waking up. There are street cleaners whirring by and only a few other people going about their morning. Piazza della Signoria is enormous. The sun engulfs the entire space. Arnolfo tower makes a statement both against the blue sky and with its shadow on the ground. We have arrived. Welcome. Hiding in the shadow we can see how the space is blindingly lit from above and many of the restaurants around the square are slowly opening their doors to the new day. We are early for the Palazzo Vecchio guided tour to the Tower and Mr W requires coffee. 

We wander all of 30 seconds and find a small eatery. Caffe San Firenze will sit roughly 10 people, but as we soon learn, the counter is where the action happens. As we sit and sip our coffees, people walk in, order, drink their coffees and pay in less than five minutes. This is a quick stop place and we are here to witness it all. This is the Italy I love. The intimate moments here, that in England are both boring and forgotten. Caffeine gloriously flooding our veins, we head back to the Palazzo. Our tour isn’t a typical talking tour, the only reason we have a guide is to see the tower. That’s the only way to see it. By being led, I imagine it’s safer and numbers can be monitored. And by safer i mean, it’s a long way up and therefore a long way down! To maintain the integrity and beauty of the tower there are no guide or safety rails. Hence the guide or dare I say chaperone.

We are in the main entrance of the Palazzo and are sent up to the most awe-inspiring spectacle I am yet to witness. The hall of the five hundred, the Salone dei Cinquecento, is absolutely stunning. It’s paintings are vast and are actually hard to comprehend. The sheer size and detail stops you in your tracks. The only thing in the room that tears away your gawking eyes is the panelled ceiling. It. Is. A. Wonder. 

We have to leave to start our tour. So we, a group of ten, start our ascent. We are taken through the winding maze of staircases, rooms and corridors. Mr W and I are nervous about the walk up the tower. I have a fear of spiral staircases, I thank the Sacre Coeur for that, and Mr W worries about his asthma. Ignoring the stairs we have already climbed up into rooms, and then down again, before turning corners and heading up more, we have 233 steps up inside the tower. I am praying for normal staircases. And there they are. Not a spiral in sight. Dark stone stairs that just keep going.  As our group is small and the only ones permitted in the tower the nerves have subsided. We don’t feel hurried at all. Unlike other stone staircases I have climbed, this one is warm and I am glad for the ascent to end. The breeze at the top of the tower is glorious but pales in comparison to the view. 

Having seen rooftops of Italy only once before in Rome I have forgotten the earthy red tones of the roof tiles. The view stretches for miles like a red carpet. I could sit up here all day. The bells of the tower are above us held up by old wooden beams. I think for a second about the weight of the bells and the strength of the aged structure. What if they should fall? If it is my time I am happy to be doing what I love to do. With the person I love to do it with. 

The view from here is the perfect introduction to the city. You could say it was planned with this in mind. Wink wink. From up here we see the Arno river. Almost green in the sunlight. It creates a natural divide on the map of the city. From this lofty space we see the Duomo in all her glory. Rising 114 metres from street level it dominates the skyline. The surrounding buildings bow to its presence. I am strangely drawn to its immense stature. 

As always, I am reminded of why the Duomo is here in the first place. Faith. As an atheist I often find myself wondering how blind faith can lead to something so substantial being built. And yet I am drawn to them. I don’t mean to kneel at their gates and alters and utter silent words to a god. I am drawn to the blind faith and how it guides people everyday. It may not be my path but the more I see these cities the more I respect the faith people have. 

The faith the world has lost sight of in the past 6 months is on my mind. Covid has ravaged the world. Horrors unseen on such a scale in my lifetime have dominated the headlines and inch by inch taken our confidence in the world and the future. 

Up above this new city, I feel like myself. I’m exploring again. I’m believing again. Possibilities are creeping back. My faith is getting ready to return. 

A piece of Pisa

There are 37 people on this aircraft. It’s September 2020. 

Restrictions have lifted enough in the Uk for us to travel to countries on the green list. Every Thursday brings amendments to the list and so far Italy is go go go!

We land at Pisa airport and it is empty. It is 5pm local time and all services are closed. This is strange. Following the signs, we head to the Pisa mover that’ll take us into the heart of the city. Masks are on, backpacks strapped up and feet are eager. This is the kind of transport I like. Just EUR2.70 each and 5 minutes to the destination! Next stop: Pisa Centrale.

It is a 25 minute march to our only stop in the city. The daylight is fading and we must get back for our train to Florence. We cross the Arno river, so still in the evening sun and I have to pinch myself to believe that our postponed Italy trip has finally begun. We weave our way through old apartment buildings, where the restaurants underneath are just starting their terrace table service and the sounds of humanity grow louder.

And then, there she is. The leaning tower of Pisa. We emerge onto Piazza del Duomo and the setting sun streams its light upon this architectural wonder. It is illuminating. The whole scene is. There are more people here than in both the airports we have passed through today and they are smiling. Covid feels like a bad dream that we have now woken from. There are families taking selfies, couples arm in arm strolling and the army around the base of the tower. All life is here. 

The sky is various shades and shapes of mottled grey. But underneath the Cathedral and Tower of Pisa glow in the most magnificent light. It is the most spectacular welcome to any vacation we’ve had. We enter the Piazza and head left towards the Porta Nuova. The sun continues its journey towards the horizon and the intensity makes the scene dance before us. We stop every couple of metres to pick out the extraordinary details of the tower. It is a picture that will never need a filter. A memory that will never be replaced. A piece of life slotted into the dread of 2020.

The grass of the Piazza is the greenest grass we’ve seen. The light is the brightest. The smiles are wider. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve experienced something like a pandemic.  The good times are magnified. They boom out of the silence.

We follow the square around to the Battistero di San Giovanni. A huge circular building that is currently playing peekaboo with the sun. The detail on the facade is breathtaking and reminds me why Italy is one of the top destinations in the world. Italy’s unassuming nature to have these structures sitting just a stone’s throw away from regular life. Restaurants, stations and homes. It’s like this place just sprung up one day. And life just carried on without fuss or bother. 

The shadows grow long on the grass as we walk alongside the Cathedral, which in its own right dominates the space. With the light fading the marble turns from orange to a light grey. It is disappearing into the night’s sky. 

Up ahead the tower is alive burning orange in the sunset and the details are darkening by the second. It is transforming before us. I am so glad we came.

The initial plan was to use Pisa for its airport and head straight to Florence. Tourist traps are not my guide when planning city breaks. They’re all good and well dotted here and there in a day’s plan, but I find myself more and more drawn to the life of cities than the lines of citizens of the world, elbowing each other for photos and the best vantage point. But the fact of the matter this time was the proximity to something that I couldn’t pass by. An hour’s grace and detour meant it was done and dusted. Been there, done that. And yet it became so much more than that. It was the gateway of the whole trip. It started as it would then go on. Fulfilling every promise. Healing the fears of 2020 and soothing the worries for the future. Pisa encapsulated the feeling that life would move on. That people could come together again, smiling, laughing and enjoying the simplicity of existing.

Stories of Venice part three

We are at the Hotel H10 Palazzo Canova. I’ve found it to be one of the only rooftop bars with a view in Venice. It’s not stipulated online whether it’s for hotel guests only and my attitude after being ‘caged’ for 6 months pushes me to try my luck. I’m dressed casually and this place is beautiful. We walk straight in ‘like we own the joint’ and head around to the bank of lifts. Hit the ‘bar’ button and walk out onto a stone terrace with the most phenomenal backdrop. 

The terrace overlooks the Grand Canal. Leaning slightly over the balustrade gives you a wonderful view of the Rialto Bridge, it isn’t the whole picture but it’s enough to make me want to squeak excitedly. The staff are so friendly and accommodating, they show us the QR codes on the table. When scanning them with our phones, we are able to bring up the menus with an English option. We order coffees and sit in the afternoon sun. This is the first time we have stopped and watched Venice’s world go by. I am transfixed on the water and all the boats moving about. The whole scene is intoxicating. Gondolas, vaporetto, people, smiles. It’s as if Covid doesn’t exist. It is by sitting for a while we realise how tired we are and adjust our plans for the day. This is very strange for me. I’ll usually walk til I drop. But I’m either out of practice or Venice demands your full attention, you need to sit and stay. NO! Seriously, stop. Enjoy. Drink it in. And that’s what we did. We sat laughing, talking and enjoying it all. Whatever plans were left for today could be done tomorrow, or when we return, I don’t think I had noticed at the time, but I had fallen head over heels for Venice and deep down was already planning the next trip. So if we didn’t finish the plans that day, we’d do it another time! I’m too busy watching the rows upon rows of gondolas rolling on the canal below. There is something so beautiful about their shiny finish and red interiors. 

Mr W made it quite clear when we arrived he had no interest in going in a gondola, we’re both really uncomfortable with being ‘served’. So being in a boat, with the gondolier transporting us about, is something unimaginable. But who said because I don’t want to ride in one I can’t watch those people! You can literally see their faces transform as they mentally tick that box on their bucket list. They are here. They’ve done it. A lifelong dream, a spur of the moment bit of fun or claiming back a missed opportunity due to covid.

I find for the third time, I do not want to leave, but we have dinner plans, and they’re quite special. In the last few years, Mr W and I have enjoyed a cheesy little tradition when we travel. I’ve always laughed when you see a Mcdonalds bursting at the seams when abroad. Don’t the customers know there is a Mcdonalds on every street corner. But as I’ve grown, I’ve started to acknowledge the ease of a fast food joint, the cheaper option, not having to worry about the language barrier and simply enjoying what you enjoy. So, with that in mind, wherever we go, we’ll check if they have a Hard Rock Cafe. We both love the music, the cocktails and we always buy Mr W a t-shirt. It also helps that this is the year we celebrate our 2nd wedding anniversary, which happens to be cotton, so the gift shop is calling out to me! It’s also a surprise for Mr W, we are afterall celebrating his birthday by being here.

We enjoy our food, dance along to the music and head back into the throngs of Venice. We idle away the time wandering the canals until nightfall and we find ourselves in St Mark’s Square. It is unbelievably quiet. There are pianos being played for the patrons of the night-time dwellers. There are less than 20 people in the entire space. It feels so personal. We stop to enjoy the music. For the second time today we stop to drink it all in. It’s our last night and rather than be sad, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude to be here. The world is phasing in and out of restrictions every week. In May 2020, it was possible to travel to Greece and Spain from the UK and not have to worry about isolating on your return. Every Thursday the red, amber and green travel list was updated, and every week it brought new countries into the green and pushed others into the red. The situation was always changing and taking the risk to book our trip to Italy for September was a tough decision. We made the leap because financially the risk was very small. The emotional risk of losing the trip again was a bigger one to us. So just getting out of the country was a big enough deal, without finding this place half empty and yet so full of life. While that piano played, it felt all so surreal, to be in the midst of a pandemic and feel happy. Not happy about the pandemic, but in spite of it. We still clung to parts of ourselves we thought all too lost. 

The next morning brings new adventures and the return of the fog. Except the fog is thicker and there is rain in the air. Today we fly home, which means our backpacks return to our shoulders and we have to face the elements. We have breakfast, take one final nap and head into the winding walkways. The venetian waters are lapping over the edges of the Riva degli Schiavoni and parts of St Mark’s Square have giant puddles. The water reflects St Mark’s Basilica, a beautiful time to reflect on the last six days.  Large raised walkways have been erected, it seems that Venice is preparing for a high tide. There is a light rain and we decide to take it easier today. Mr W takes out his trusty google map app, a godsend through our whole visit, and we head towards the Ponte dell’ Accademia. 

The fog lifts and the light of the grey sky reflects differently on the wet cobbles. The walk is slower paced and it becomes sadder the closer we get to going home. The rain sets the emotion of the day perfectly. We come to the dark wooden bridge that spans the Grand Canal, and we say another goodbye to a true icon of Venice. From here it is a 10 minute walk to Fondamente Salute, the alleys here wind more than ever, the bridges and canals are very small, it feels like a hidden part of town. Art Galleries line the streets with gated courtyards to tempt the eyes. We reach Fondamente Salute and look out across the Bacino San Marco. The water is rough and laps up to where we stand, we stay for a while looking out and over the Campanile di San Marco. Turning away from one of the most iconic landmarks in the whole of Venice feels like the trip is already over.

We walk away, the rain has stopped but the water is starting to flood the streets. We take a brief moment to stop in front of the Basilica di Santa Maria della Salute. The building is on a platform of stone, with stairs leading up to its vast front doors. It is hauntingly beautiful, in the grey of the day it merges into the sky and then back into the water. It feels as if the stairs lead you into the water. I know now that my love affair with this place is far from over. 

We cross a small bridge in the Dorsoduro and have to wade through an ankle deep puddle. A man stands on the other side, trying to sell us plastic booties that will keep our feet dry, he looks at us with his eyebrows raised when we walk straight through. We pause in a tiny Trattoria Pizzeria for Cicchetti and talk to the owner about the weather. Of all things. It seems apt to discuss rain in Venice. In broken English he tries his best to tell us about the floods that devastated the community in 2019. He shows us on his polished bar where the water came up to. I look at the table in front of me, in those depths it would be completely submerged. We continued to listen as he explained he’d replaced all his kitchen equipment just before covid snatched away his livelihood. And yet despite the last 10 months, he is here talking to us, smiling and sharing his story. 

I thought alot about that man on the coach to the airport. His story, his enthusiasm, his strength. It brought the whole trip full circle. The feeling of being uncaged, the beauty of an awakening country and the strength we were all regaining. It made me realise that despite the horrors of the pandemic, life would carry on and we could either be submerged by it, losing ourselves in the process, or rise above to fight again. 

Photo by Dave Watson

Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com/ 

Validate you

When I get together with friends, I’ll always have news to catch up on. That’s the way it works right? Work. Family life. Love. Loss. The bad and the good. More often than not, I have a small collection of stories I have to share. As the saying goes, a problem shared is a problem halved. Joy that is spread, just multiplies that joy in my opinion. Not only does getting together with loved ones entertain the soul it cools a boiling pot of emotion. When I find myself ready to tell my story to friends, I have a small voice in my head telling me that I’m self-indulging in their kind words, hugs and nods of understanding. The small voice grows louder as I approach their front door, as I accept a cup of tea and it even starts screaming as soon as someone says, ‘And how are you?’. I often wonder if my tales are important to tell. Why should my problems and woes command their attention when their problems should go first, or be spoken louder or longer than my own?

During the pandemic, during its most terrible and confusing moments, I felt unable to share how very bad my anxiety had gotten. People were dying, people were grieving, kept apart for months at a time wondering when and if they’d see their loved ones again. How did brain rattling anxiety compare? I felt anxious about catching covid, I worried about my loved ones and the world became a very scary place. I honestly thought people would band together more, I sometimes thought of the stories from WW1 and 2, about milkmen that still delivered to houses that were more rubble than homes. In such big ways, people did so much to help others, the children in the school playground singing loud so the nursing home residents next door didn’t feel alone is just one amazing example. This shouldn’t be dimmed by the few that were selfish and were fighting against the rules. But they were out there, and when you have anxiety you’ll often see the one bad person in a crowd of amazing people. 

It’s all too easy to be consumed by how personal feelings affect us when we are shut inside our own homes with no view of the outside world. It is all too easy to text someone and try to convey feelings, make a phone call and try to explain, but ultimately it’s when a friend is in front of you when the mask may slip and it becomes all too obvious that there’s more to the story. Unfiltered, unshrouded truth. And yet there’s a barrier to be found when you feel that your problems are tiny compared to others. Invalidation of feelings.

It was during 2021 that I started exploring the concept of how invalidating your own feelings can be dramatically damaging to your mental health. The most selfish way of explaining it is this: only you feel how you feel, it is happening to you and no one else. You can’t feel how someone else feels and vice versa. 

The more rounded way of describing this is likening it to a physical injury. A papercut is tiny. It slices the skin in an irritating way and stops hurting almost as fast as it happened. Now imagine the first time you got a papercut, you’d think what the actual hell was that! Now imagine the hundredth time, maybe you shrug it off, maybe you don’t. Maybe you catch it later on, snagging it and reminding you of the irritation. Maybe you forget about it and cook dinner and get some lemon, chilli, salt in it. Each situation produces a different response, from different people. Some people are more thick skinned than others and some people bleed like from a tap. 

A closer look at pain, makes me think of pain management in hospitals. They don’t see someone rolled up on a stretcher with a broken leg and categorise it as a 5/10. They ask each person. ‘On a scale of 1-10, how is your pain?’ This is down to how differently each patient can handle pain. If you were to punch me right now, I’d cry, from shock, from a new trauma and then the pain. If you were to punch Mr W, well first you’d have to run and second he’d shrug it off. We have vastly different histories when it comes to that kind of treatment. So why is it more acceptable in society to understand an individual’s tolerance to pain and not understand someone’s sensitivity to their own mental health?

I’ll say this, the pandemic opened up conversations about mental health and for that I am grateful. I’ll also be one of the first to tell anyone out there that their feelings no matter what. Invalidating your own feelings in favour of someone else does not push your feelings aside and out of the way, it pushes them down where they’ll rise to the surface again to harm you once more. It is compassion that dictates the invalidation we put upon ourselves. Where this can be a kindness to others you are doing damage to yourself. And it needs to stop. Once you start to look on others with more kindness than yourself, pushing the nurturing smile to your face and the care into your eyes, you are taking it away from yourself. Believe it or not, you have enough in you to care for both yourself and others. By looking after yourself and validating YOU, you’ll find yourself a mentally stronger person and in a perfect position to be stronger for others. Win win, right?

I know there is so much pain in this world, so much lost, so much feared and felt. I hope we learn to love as fiercely as ever. To protect. To nourish. To heal. Starting with ourselves first. Giving ourselves the changes we deserve. That the world deserves. You’ll never know how much you can change the world, until you change your world. Protect your mind. Nourish your feelings. Heal your heavy heart. Validate you. 

“My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?” ― David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

Photo by Dave Watson

Please check out his work on https://www.instagram.com/davewatson_uk/ or at https://davewatson1980.picfair.com/