6 January – 18 January 2020 

The alarm clock went off at 645, as usual. It was dark outside. The kids didn’t stir. Under sufferance, Sena opened half an eye ‘Why are we going to school in the night time?’ she mumbled, then went back to sleep. 

We were all out of practice. We were all a bit tired after our recent travels. There were tears before breakfast. More tears and escalating protests on the way to the bus stop in the dark. This would be a hard week. 

Slowly we got back into our routine. 

We unpacked the house. We converted the pretty but impractical set up into something more utilitarian that would better cater to our needs over the next few months. We set up a homework factory in the kitchen area, hid anything that looked fragile or important and covered the couches in blankets. It was no longer zen, but it was starting to look more like home. 

Homework started back up, generally accompanied by more than a few tears and a mad scramble to get up to date with the various missed projects. (Unlike Australia, it turns out that kids here get homework to be done over the school holidays – which probably makes sense as the kids are basically always on holidays). 

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It felt good to be back into a routine, to not be packing and repacking every 5 minutes, and to have a bit of time to think about what we would like to get out of the next few months.  

We promised the kids a well deserved quiet weekend with family movies, homemade pizza and market wanderings. Exactly what was needed to recharge the batteries a bit and feel like we were living in Aix again. 

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On Saturday night, Liz’s cousin Michelle flew in from Israel for a visit. Very excitingly, she had offered to look after the girls whilst Liz and Anthony took off to Rome for a few days. Despite our desire to sit still for a while, this was too good an opportunity to pass up. 

We spent Sunday at the Chateau la Coste, enjoying the beautiful vineyards, the modern art displays and catching up with Michelle. From there, it was back to Aix for lunch and to catch the Three Wise Men parade – somewhat randomly allowing us to use the french phrase ‘Puis-je caresser le chameau? (Can I please pat the camel? Yes you may… they were quite soft and fluffy). 

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Early Monday morning, Liz and Anthony took off to Marseille Airport to catch their Ryanair flight to Rome. We were excited, but there were so many questions. Would the girls melt down? Would Michelle cope (she seemed very capable and had raised 3 almost adult boys, but how would she manage 3 young girls? How far would we need to be away to not hear the kids scream? – we hoped Rome would be far enough) How would Ryanair screw us over? Just how much pizza and pasta and wine could we consume across the relatively short time we were in Rome? 

It turns out that Michelle is a bit of a Mary Poppins. Over the course of the two days we were away, we were regaled with photos of happy kids (even if they were drinking alcohol and/or eating chocolate – but whatever it takes) and it was clear that the girls would be more than happy to make the care arrangement somewhat more permanent. 

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Meanwhile, we were having an amazing time in Rome. There is something so special about the city, even forgetting for a second the amazing food, drink and coffee there. The sheer scale and diversity of the architecture, the constant reminder of the unbroken 2500+ history of the place that remains on display and the opulence of the churches are all mind blowing. What we didn’t expect was the lack of people. There was hardly any traffic on the roads, very few tourists and seemingly few Romans as well, but those that were there were just so amazingly cool. Seriously. 

As usual, Liz had excelled herself in organsing each day meal by meal and finding us a lovely little boutique hotel I Tre Moschettieri, nestled between the Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon, just off Via del Corso.

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We spent our first day wandering the streets by day and at night marvelling at the architecture from across the ages, popping into random churches and of course enjoying simple but wonderful food and red wine by the carafe across the river in Trastevere. 

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Tuesday was our only full day here. Anthony started the day with a run around the ancient district, marvelling at the Colosseum, the Roman Forum and Titus’s triumphal arch. It is impossible to not be blown away by this area, particularly in the dawn sunlight.

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From there, we wandered around the surprisingly quiet Spanish Steps, threw our coins in the Trevi Fountain and marvelled at the dome of the Pantheon (still the largest unsupported concrete dome in the world, some 2000 years after it was built). 

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(Side note: whilst Rome seemed oddly bereft of tourists (at least not in the expected droves), what they did not lack was local law enforcement with whistles (and army forces with large guns, but that is another story). The whistle bearing zealots’ KPI was to ensure that no tourist dare soil the prized Roman monuments with their read ends. Anyone daring to perch their junk on a Spanish Step, the edge of a fountain or anywhere else of cultural or historical import would be aggressively whistled at with Swiss like efficiency. It seems at the Trevi Fountain the tourists were actually outnumbered by the whistle bearers – it is no wonder that the northern European countries are asking questions about Italian efficiency.) 

Our much anticipated lunch was Liz’s favourite pizza at Il Forno on Campo de Fiori, which absolutely did not disappoint (and all for the princely sum of 6 euros) and a coffee overlooking the Campo de Fiori markets. It was so lovely to be able to just sit and watch the world go by for a while, particularly without having to mediate any arguments or take anyone to the toilet. 

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We had arranged to spend the afternoon with an American artist, Kelly, who has lived in Italy for the last 12 years. Kelly had the monumental task of trying to teach us to sketch, and maybe even paint, in 3 hours. We would have the wonderful Roman architecture as our backdrop and our inspiration, with Kelly as our guide. Drawing is something we’ve never done before, starting only over summer when we would do the odd sketch with the girls on our travels. It turns out to be something we both enjoyed and would like to do more of (but haven’t been very successful in finding the time in doing it thus far). It was great to get some expert tips, get a chance to use some new materials and just spend a dedicated 3 hours playing. Whilst the initial results may not reflect any particular uplift in quality of output, it was a really great experience and something we would both like to do more of. 

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After dipping our toe into the world of fine arts, we looked for a different perspective, making our way to the top of the Piazza Venezia to enjoy the late afternoon sun over the Roman rooftops before hitting a cool apero bar for a glass of wine and an early evening snack. 

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For the evening we started with a sneaky apero and a wee bit of budgeting – Anthony really showing Liz a good time.

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From there it was off to the main event. We had managed to re-discover the name of a restaurant we had been to some 12 years ago and absolutely loved. Da Gino al Parlamento, near the Parliament is a small, local place that serves simple but amazingly tasty cuisine. As soon as we got off the bus from the airport yesterday we ran to this restaurant to ensure we had a reservation for the following night. We were so excited to be back. We had a 3 course of the broccoli and fish soup of the day, veal al limone, baked potatoes, salad, pasta and tiramisu (best ever), all washed down with a 10 euro 1L carafe of wine… and we still walked away with change for 70 euros. Hopefully it won’t be another 12 years before we’re back again! 

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We ended our Roman getaway early the following morning, with a 7am flight back to Marseille (it’s hard to complain about flight times when the tickets are 20 euros return).

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We made our way home to find that the kids wanted to move to Israel and live with Michelle. 

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At least Bonnie was pleased to see us. 

Well, kind of. For a minute at least. Then he huffed and went to sleep under the table again.

The following day was Michelle’s last with us. We really enjoyed having her stay (almost as much as the kids did) and to have the opportunity to spend a good chunk of time with her – a pretty rare occurrence considering the obvious geographic challenges. We are already pondering a sneaky trip to Israel in April to catch up with her and the family again – and show the kids where so much of this whole religion thing actually began. 

The day of Michelle’s departure, Anthony went off on a bike ride with Otis, the plan being to ride as much of the triathlon race route as possible. This turned out to be a 100km adventure exploring the rolling hills and winding roads (and some rather nasty dirt tracks) north of Provence. Surprisingly we both made it back unscathed and feeling like we had a better understanding of what waited for us in May. 

We arrived back to Anthony’s phone showing a run of messages of updates from Australia. Grandpa Joseph had been taken to hospital with an ill-defined infection. Timing was not ideal – Anthony being in France, Jeff in London and Adam currently stuck in Dallas Airport trying to get home from Austin with his family. The next few days were dominated by arranging people to be with Dad (big thank you to both Pamela, Chad and Grandpa Geoff who ensured that Dad had company during the whole ordeal) and numerous conversations with medical staff and our ‘eyes on the ground’. The infections were in his blood and, for 48 hours, the staff were unsure what was causing them and whether Dad would make it through. With what seemed like zero run up, suddenly Anthony was speaking over WhatsApp video for what was, by all accounts at the time, likely to be the last time. We had discussed this as an extended family before we left, but of course when it was playing out in practice it all felt very different. He was conscious and aware, but this could change quickly. Was it time to get on a plane? This is one of the parts of being away in faraway lands that really sucks. 

One can logically plan for such an eventuality, but when it actually happens it all goes awry. We drew lines in the sand. We would base our decisions on the results of his blood tests. Luckily, on Friday night, Dad turned a corner and started to trend upwards, and his blood tests reflected this improvement. Before we knew it, we were discussing his recovery and when he would be discharged (not for another week). 

On Sunday morning Adam finally arrived home (interestingly via Noumea, where his A380 had been conveniently re-routed to avoid some Brisbane summer storms), finally relieving Chad who had abandoned his family for the weekend to sit vigil with Dad. That is pretty much the definition of true friendship right there.