The Little Bay or Oban sits on a perfect horseshoe shaped bay with the Isle of Mull in the distance. The mountains of Morvern and Ardgour surround the beautiful Firth of Lorn and you can understand why people have been here since mesolithic times. For us, it is our port for the ferry to Colonsay. I am feeling quite exhausted. Have been fitting in my Scottish gallivanting around work, so hence the days have been exceptionally long. We have had really full days in Inverness and back in Glasgow but I am really excited about tomorrows trip; although slightly apprehensive as everyone that I have told that I am going to Colonsay reminds me of The Wicker Man. Again fantastically comfortable small Scottish hotel tonight. Beside my bed is a decanter of sherry which I think is a very civilised change to the usual bottle of water. I can still hear the wee laddies and lassies practicing the pipes so a sip of sherry and off to bed. Jane has warned me that the lovely stillness of the bay and sound of the pipes is lulling us into a false sense of security – beyond the castle and the bay is the wild Scottish sea and then I think you hit Greenland.

I already feel like I am at the very edge of the world but our three hour ferry ride tomorrow will surely take us to the very edge. Just over a hundred people live on Colonsay. I have been told that it is as close to paradise as most people will ever get so I am excited (as long as there are locks on the door so the wicker man doesn’t get me)

I enjoyed my drive to the north of Skye. Stopped at the Grand Design grass roofed house that looked so different to what I expected; quite tiny, and on a very small plot of land, but still pretty cool. The drive through Portree with the colored houses hugging the port continued the great scenery. A stroll around the town and the history of Flora McDonald and Bonnie Prince Charlie reminded me that I was indeed on the path to the Jacobites and the wonderful, if somewhat macabre, tales of the uprising. Flora was buried in Kilmuir cemetery and a visit started my journey on the path to Culloden Moor.

The drive back from the wee island was easy and stopped for a while at Glen Shiel, the site of the battle between the British and the Jacobites that occurred in 1719. It was slightly fitting that amongst the hills of the battle there was a large YES sign and the Scottish flag. I have become quite interested in the upcoming referendum for Scottish independence and it has been the topic of conversation amongst lots of people that I have met; most have said they will vote YES. The general consensus is that they are all well and truly sick of Westminster – I was thinking maybe we should join forces with Scotland. It has intrigued me that everyone here, on hearing my accent, wants to tell me how disgraceful Tony Abbott is!

I arrived at the wee loch late afternoon and expected to see the beastie out for an afternoon swim; but alas Nessie was elusive.

Cill Chuimein or Fort Augustus is a pretty village on the edge of the wee loch and I had a comfortable bed in the lovely Bank of Scotland building. I quite enjoyed watching the boats out the window going up and down through the series of locks. Had great fish and chips at the pub and had a long walk along the canal thinking of the Jacobites who captured the fort just before the battle of Culloden.

The drive along the loch was beautiful but the wee beastie was shy, as surprisingly, the only sighting I had was on the numerous tourist signs.

I find Drumossie Moor an evocative place and yes I am still convinced that I was there at the battle of 46. I told Jane how at home I felt in Inverness and she asked me whether it was because it was like Bendigo or whether it was my past life – my past life of course. Well I have always had a strange reaction on the Moor and this time was no different. The Moor is a peaceful place in some ways but there is a certain eeriness and feeling of dread that seems to cling in the air if you stand and listen. The young pretender escaped but the reprisals through the highlands are legendary.

The landscape around me is probably the most beautiful I have ever seen. As I walked across the top of the Quiraing I kept thinking of Lord of the Rings. For someone not real good with heights it was a challenging walk but the views were stunning.

The legend here says that once you have visited you are never completely free. It really is a mystical place and as I looked to the massive form of the Old Man of Storr I waited for the giant to pull itself free from the hill and stand with a mighty roar. His thumb, which sticks out from the ground is 2385 feet so one can only imagine what a massive hulk of a man he is. The legends here are fantastic and as I look out of the window in the loveliest small hotel, on a road that hugs the coast, I am positive I can see the faeries on the hill in the distance. With great giants, faeries and silkies in the water there is indeed a feeling of something not of this world.

I had a lovely dinner here. The chef and owner is Australian and has won numerous awards for his fantastic cooking. The salmon was so good. The hotel is tiny with about five rooms and sits in a wee glen surrounded by fantastic scenery and lots of sheep. There are knitting baskets throughout the hotel with guests invited to knit a few rows. The dining chairs are covered in hand-knitted covers and there is a basket in my room with a half finished piece in the most fabulous Scottish wool.

I walked down to the shore (or should I say slipped down on my bum) and felt like the only person that had ever been there. I had a mama and twin sheep that trotted beside me the whole way. I am not sure whether they were protecting me from the faeries or the giants but they were very friendly. The babies kept brushing up against my leg and I felt very grateful that I ate gorgeous Scottish salmon for dinner and not the lamb!

I have filled my hot water bottle, made a wonderful pot of tea and will knit a few rows before dreaming of giants who walk this magnificent land.

It feels like the most remote place I have ever been. A lovely drive from Fort William to Kyle of Lochalsh and to Skye. The Isle of Skye has an almost primeval feel about it. Soaring mountains, wooly sheep; tiny crofters cottages nestled into the hills. Milovaig is on the most westerly point of Skye and looking out the window I can see a dozen seals sitting on the rocks. I walked about 25km today to the lighthouse and over the most remote hills. I am totally intrigued by the sheep. The lambs are a crack up to watch; they are so cute. Last night driving back from the stunning Three Chimneys restaurant I had to stop the car three times in the freezing cold as the sleeping sheep were all over the road. They had no intention of moving. If you could picture me on a tiny road, no houses, no lights, driving a manual car in the pitch black, and these amazing looking sheep, with their lambs, just snoring peacefully despite me and my car. I had to  get out of the car and literally push them off the road; they gave me the most foul looks.

The Three Chimneys was stunning. A gorgeous white washed house; similar to most others in this remote part of Skye. Everyone who I have met told me that if I had a chance I should try and eat at the Michelin starred restaurant in the middle of nowhere. I emailed them and luck had it that they had one vacancy at their kitchen table. While they have a beautiful restaurant; with conventional seating, the kitchen table is literally that. A table for six in the middle of the restaurant kitchen. The eight course Taste of Skye menu was beautifully presented and the company really lovely. At the table was a delightful young female psychiatrist from North Carolina, an economist and banker from Chicago, and two German mathematicians who were living in Edinburgh. It was such fun watching the chefs at work and we were free to wander around watching and chatting. I can’t imagine what it must be like to try and cook in an incredibly busy restaurant kitchen with six nuisances peering over your shoulder. It was fantastic watching our food be cooked and seeing how calm and organised the kitchen was – nothing like Gordon Ramsay. We had beautiful food:

Loch Bracadale brown crab parfait, apple, mull cheddar and sorrel; Colbost skink, Marag Dubh and talisker crumb with croft egg yolk; Loch Dunvegan lobster and prawn gratin, fennel bree; Sconser king scallop with asparagus, blood orange, and seaweed dressing; Black Isle black face lamb flank and Haggis with needs and ransoms; Lochalsh venison with rhubarb, ginger and crowdie, and Cairnsmore goats cheese, poached pear and pecan crumble. For our last course we had a lesson in making soufflé. The hot marmalade soufflé with drambuie syrup and mealie ice-cream was gorgeous and I can’t wait to practice at home.

Sue, I think we need to send Jack to work there. There were lots of lovely young chefs that all reminded me of Jack and it would give us an excuse to visit – not that one needs one.

May 21 2013

Well apparently I have scarred my children for life. Alex, because he thinks I am disgraceful as I am not drinking espresso after lunch. It seems (according to my Italian/Chinese, kilt wearing coffee expert son) that one should never have milk in coffee after lunch. If I really must, I should drink macchiato’s but I am obviously a disgraceful insult to Roma if I drink children’s hot milk with a stain of macchiato. I think my morning cappuccino is acceptable and I think my evening chianti would be OK. Although Lydia is convinced her mother is an alcoholic, as after tonight’s chianti, I did have trouble getting the card in the hotel room door. Don’t you love children that think their mother is totally out of control having one chianti! Although, I do rather love the Italian view of a glass of chianti – I think it is probably half a bottle .. but alas when in Roma ……

Lydia is scarred because of the old homeless woman outside Termini when we arrived. We were walking past and she just lifted the skirt and stood up and had a pee on the pavement. Lydia is apparently traumatised because an old Italian woman bared her ‘big hairy bottom’ [my daughters words not mine] in the middle of a civilized city. I did remind my daughter that the older woman was once 24 and her response was ‘she was probably doing the same at 24’. Lydia’s comment was ‘please get me back to a country where homeless people are at least civilized’.

I am a disgrace, but we did have rather a nice day wandering the Roman streets. It is pretty cool isn’t it how you can be just strolling along and there is a Corinthian pillar in the middle of the street that has been sitting happily there since a few decades BC.

We walked up to Via Settembre and then across to Piazza Barberini. The Fontana del Tritone was all covered up so we strolled down Via Sistina to Spagna to the Scalinata della Trinità dei Monti. It might be the widest staircase in the world but it does make a pretty good perch to people watch in Roma. Piazza Di Spagna is full of extremely expensive shops but people from all nationalities sit and watch the world pass. We wandered on to Piazza del Popolo. The “trident” of Via del Corso, Via del Babuino Via di Ripetta are all full of designer shops and it is somewhat ironic that they all converge in the ‘peoples square’, the centre for Italian executions. We walked across the Fiume Tevere via the Ponte Margherita along a much quieter street past the Castel Sant’ Angelo. As we passed the mausoleum of Hadrian I did think of him and my time spent sitting on his wall in the English countryside with just the cows for company. The bronze statue of Archangel Michael, standing on top of the castel was looking down on the men trying to lure gullible tourists with the latest Louis Vuitton ‘genuine’ creation. We walked back across Ponte Umberto I to the gorgeous Piazza Navona that contains my favourite fountains. Surprisingly, we stopped for gelato and sat and watched the world go past. We sat quietly in the Pantheon and marveled at the oculus to the sky. I am constantly intrigued by sitting in a church where the damn great hole in the roof lets all of the rain in but I do think it is pretty cool that a pagan temple is now a Christian place of worship.  I do think it is one of the most amazing places .. worshipping in a great big Roman temple.

A walk back past the Fontana Di Trevi to throw our coins to ensure that we would return. No matter how many times one stands before the temple to the ‘Roman holiday’ its sheer beauty takes your breath away. Although one does wish you could sit for just a moment without being annoyed by rose selling nuisances.

We stomped back up the stairs to the Qurinale to what I think is one of the most beautiful churches in all of Rome – Santa Maria della Vittoria. Bernini’s Ecstasy of Saint Teresa is one of my favourites and I love the fact that it is always so quiet there.

We had a lovely dinner tonight on the roof top of Roma. Tomorrow we will visit el papa Francisco. I am totally intrigued by the calendars on sale all over Roma with the dishiest priests portrayed for each month. Sort of like the Italian version of the New York Fire Department muscled men in braces and not much else calendar. I just can’t quite get my head around the whole concept of ‘playboy’ mate of the month in the white collar but we are in a city that sells I heart Francisco t-shirts so I guess Cosi va il mondo.

May 19th 2013

We had dinner tonight in a traditional small ristorante, Berzitello. Do we really sound like that? Lydia and I looked at each other over our rigatoni, tagliatelle and chianti and both said ‘what is that terrible noise’. It was like a female version of Crocodile Dundee (only worse). We decided they must be Queenslanders! A table full of outspoken fellow country people – we heard (and the whole restaurant heard), about their cruise, their shopping and their expertise in wine (really exaggerated). They were absolutely full of it. It was a stark contrast to last night’s ‘museums under the moon’. We were lucky enough to be in Firenze for the annual after dark museum opening – all museums were open and free until midnight so we spent an enchanted evening with Botticelli, Michelangelo and of course David.

We are not sure what the Italian version of the Blarney stone is but the rather lovely Italian waiter who served us at dinner last night, at the very gorgeous Ristorante Accademia, had definitely kissed it. He then went on to kiss my daughters hand and tell her that she was the most beautiful sight he had ever encountered. I told him I would rather like a house to visit in Firenze so by the end of dinner he and I had completed the deal on the dowry, the wedding and how often I would visit. Lydia sat giggling, blushing and shaking her head. My the time we walked out the door he had handed over his phone number and I was planning the bambinos – reality check though – I am not sure the Italian waiter can keep my daughter in the volume of gelato that she consumes! Tonight in Roma Lydia told me that she could still feel a small amount of blood swishing through her right arm – she is determined to replace her whole circulatory system with gelato!

Roma is as always totally wonderful. After dinner we circumnavigated the whole city – Lydia has now been sacked from map reading after we ended up almost at Musei Vaticani when we were supposed to be reclining on the steps of Piazza di Spagna. After walking for what seemed like hours around the Palatino we finally staggered back past Fontana Di Trevi and up the steps beside the Quirinale. This is the home of the Italian President and is high on Qurinal Hill, the tallest of Rome’s seven hills. It seems it has housed thirty popes, four kings and eleven presidents. As we walked up the side, at first we couldn’t work out what the suave looking suited Italian men were doing standing looking very James Bond like, but we then figured out where we were. I have been reading Dan Brown’s latest book (as you do when it is set in Firenze) so was convinced we were going to be kidnapped and thrown into the back of the discrete BMW.

Well I do like camping under the stars (all five of them) and tonight is just beautiful. We have been a bit spoilt. We were upgraded on the plane on the way over and now have been upgraded to a beautiful suite in the lovely Hotel Artimede. I have real tea in front of me, and Lindt chocolate and the couch is very comfortable. The gelato princess is lying in the room beside me reading. We are on Via Nazionale – a short walk from Fontana Di Trevi, Piazza Di Spagna and Piazza Barberini – that is if you don’t let my gelato eating daughter anywhere near a map !!

May 18 2013

Stunning dinner tonight in a beautiful restaurant in Piazza Broilo topped off a gorgeous Veronese day. The rain cleared by lunchtime and we sat in Pizza delle Erbe and shared a pizza. We had a great sleep in Hotel Giulietta E Romeo in a quiet cobbled street just off Piazza Bra in the shadow of the Arena – so good a sleep that we missed breakfast so justified our gelato in the afternoon. The Montague’s and Capulet’s may have feuded but surely they would have stopped every now and then to take in the beauty of this stunning place. Everywhere you walk the scenery gets more stunning. The view across the river really looked like a magnificent painting from the old Masters. We had dinner tonight in the gorgeous Antica Torretta. A beautiful small restaurant on the corner of a small piazza. I had seen it on Trip Advisor but we saw it when we were out wandering today and it looked so beautiful we wandered back for dinner. Scampi, pasta with asparagus and speck and as you can see below we couldn’t resist the stunning desert. We have planned a hike in the morning to Castel San Pietro so think our fantastic dinner was justly deserved!

May 16 2013

Click here to see our welcome to Verona Ken Smith this is especially for you !

Yes we are in Italy. Fast cars, cigarette smoking, arm waving, pasta eating and yes gelato !! What is it about my instant Italian speaking children. Well, last time we were in Verona, Italian speaking Al became fluent overnight BUT his sister beats him. She has the app that she just types in and it yells Italian. Only problem is it didn’t understand ‘where is the bus?’ .. ‘where is the train?’ .. yes but we were at the train station. Maybe a sigh of relief cause I can just see the oh so stylish Italians being pleased to have an iphone shoved in their face, that screams at them in US accented Italian. A slightly vague moment in rain soaked Italy – are we in Verona or the Italian lakes? The night was clear but the flooding drains and puddles (make that lakes) told us they had a lot of rain. We wandered in the direction of the Arena di Verona, the wonderful AD 30 Roman amphitheatre in Piazza Bra. Well tonight was fantastic – last year Al and I were in Sienna for the Palio. This time oh so much more stylish – boys and their toys – Ken would have been in his element.

The Mille Miglia took place in Italy 24 times between 1927 and 1957. The open endurance race saw the best of Italian sports cars hit the road for the 1000 mile race. It is now re-enacted each May and arrived into Verona last night as we did. The only cars that can enter are those made between 1927 and 1957 .. gorgeous cars with the Arena as a backdrop. We ate our way through fantastic pasta and had a front seat as the Ferraris, Alphas and Fiats sped past.