Christmas Lights and Carnevale

By Noor De Olinad

Lost luggage and a missed train, but who cares? We're in Spain!

 

Six years ago Noor promised her grandma she would return to Italy, but this time she's not coming alone. With her fiancé Andy, they'll celebrate Christmas in Spain, shiver through Switzerland, Austria, Prague and put on costumes for the Carnevale in Venice. And of course, spend time with family and friends in Italy. It will be a magical adventure in a winter wonderland.

 

Well, except for an unwelcome visit from 'Mr. Flu' and Venice flooding, but with Andy by her side they'll have a happy holiday. Most of the time.

 

If you enjoy light-hearted and amusing travel memoirs, then grab your copy today!

 

'Christmas Lights and Carnevale' is the third book of Noor's Travel Tales trilogy, but the books in this series can be read on their own and in any order. If you prefer to read them in order, start with 'Big Cities and Mountain Villages' and then read 'Falafels and Bedouins'. Or, get all three as an e-book box-set for only $9.99.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Noor De Olinad
• Release date: Dec 3, 2020
• ISBN: 9780992552091

Noor De Olinad

A proud bookworm, Noor has evolved from being a VIP library member to writing her own books. With a deep seated curiosity about people's stories and how the world works, Noor's writing style utilises vivid imagery and delicate sarcasm. An idealist and a dreamer (an idealist dreamer), her humour is ready, sophisticated and often cynical. Loyal and caring, Noor is devoted to her family which includes a cat with expensive taste, and a dog who wants whatever the cat is having. When not maintaining the peace between the pets, Noor is turning her scribbled stories into published books for your convenience. Happy reading! 

Book preview

Copyright © Noor De Olinad, 2020.

This book and its content are protected by the Australian Copyright Act 1968 with full exclusive rights retained by the author. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

ISBN: 9780992552091 (EPUB)

ISBN: 9798201953515 (PRINT)

To my husband – I’d skip our wedding and run off to Europe with you again in a heartbeat.

This travel memoir is a snapshot of Europe in 2014 and 2015 and not intended as a practical travel guide. If I were to recount every detail of my trip, this would be a very long book. Instead, for your enjoyment and my sanity, I have cut out the boring bits and kept the most entertaining and touching moments, recreating events and dialogue from memory, photos and travel diaries. Names of places were retained, but I changed names of mentioned individuals to protect their anonymity.

Contents

1.I do

2.Lost luggage and missed trains

3.Toledo

4.Madrid

5.Bulls and Booze

6.The alluring Alhambra

7.Valencia, Barcelona and the Black Virgin

8.Milan

9.Bern

10.Salzburg

11.Vienna

12.Prague

13.Trains, trains and more trains…

14.Don’t give Grandma a heart attack

15.Pollone

16.Fiera di Donnas

17.33 Mountain Herbs

18.Another Black Virgin in the mountains

19.Beautiful Burcina

20.Time Flies

21.Arrivederci

22.Old friends

23.Verona

24.Venice

25.Carnevale

26.I’ll come back, one day…

Chapter one

I do

Gently stroking Susu’s soft fur with one hand, I rubbed Bruli’s belly with the other. Petting both my cat and dog at the same time was the only way to maintain peace in the house. I beamed indulgently at my giant baby one more time, and looked up. Andy’s eyes followed the basketball on TV with intense concentration, his hand absentmindedly scratching Bruli behind the ears. When an ad came on he turned to me and smiled.

What’s on your mind? You have that ‘I’ve been thinking’ look.

Ha! You know me too well… We’ll talk about it later though, after the game.

Without looking at the TV, Andy pressed the pause button on the remote.

You’re more important than basketball, he told me, smiling.

My heart skipped a beat and I grinned.

Go on. Tell me what you’ve been thinking.

Well, I’m not sure how to say this… um, okay. The thing is, I was sort of thinking that maybe we could skip having a wedding?

His smile fell. He cleared his throat, his vivid blue eyes boring into mine.

Um, are you…? What are you saying?

It’s just so expensive! I burst out. Thousands of dollars for one day, so I was thinking we could use the money we saved and go to Europe instead, I said all in one breath.

Andy was silent for a moment. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

Sooo…what do you think? I asked, raising my eyebrows.

Andy let out a breath, rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. For a minute there it sounded like you didn’t want to get married.

"Of course I do! But the cheapest quote I found was ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand! For one day! That much money would fund an amazing honeymoon in Europe!"

But technically we wouldn’t be married, so how can we be on our honeymoon?

A technicality, I waved my hand impatiently and Bruli protested with a soft growl. I resumed patting her belly, wincing as Susu made herself comfortable on my lap, kneading me with her claws. It’s only a piece of paper. Anyway, I think we should go this year. As soon as the semester finishes. We can be there for Christmas.

What’s the rush? We can go after we graduate in a couple of years.

No, I can’t wait that long. I drew a deep breath and blinked quickly. Amalia –

Andy reached over Bruli’s head and rested his hand on mine. You’re worried something will happen to your grandma too?

I nodded. Amalia died so suddenly I couldn’t even make it to the funeral. I promised her we would go to Italy so she could meet you, but now she’s gone. Grandma fell and broke her leg and now she’s in a nursing home. What if she dies suddenly too? She’s older than Amalia. I just can’t risk waiting.

Andy nodded slowly. I understand. So our wedding fund will become our honeymoon in Italy fund? Sounds good to me.

Actually, I was thinking we could travel a bit around Europe before going to Italy. We might not get another chance, especially if we’re saving up for our own apartment.

Let me guess, Andy said with a grin. You want to go to Spain.

So do you, I pointed out, smiling. And it makes sense. I’ve spent three years studying Spanish at university so I can finally put it to good use. Is there anywhere else you would like to visit?

Um, not sure. I’ll have to think about it.

Soooo… is that a yes? We’re going to Europe for Christmas?

Laughing, Andy leaned over and kissed my forehead. Yep. A pre-wedding Christmas honeymoon in Europe. Just one thing – do me a favour and tell your mother you’re skipping the wedding when I’m not around.

I cringed.

Laughing, Andy turned back to the basketball game and pressed play.

To say mum was disappointed is to put it mildly. Dad seemed a little jealous, even though he had gone back to Italy less than two years ago to help Grandma move into the nursing home. To make it up to them, and my younger sister Marina who was supposed to be my maid-of-honour, we had a wedding party at Andy’s mum’s house. Marina’s chef friend prepared the food for a very reasonable price, and I even wore a cheap white wedding gown I bought online. Our family and friends lined up to tie our wrists together with pieces of ribbon and between the buffet, wine and music it was just like a traditional wedding, except without signing the legal paperwork. Not that it made a difference to us – we introduced each other to relatives and friends as ‘husband’ and ‘wife’. Mum floated around the room in an elegant floor length gown, greeting guests and very much enjoying being mother-of-the-bride, with Andy’s little fluff ball Chloe following her, sniffing each guest and wagging her tail.

With Mum mollified, I focused on planning the trip. First, we would spend Christmas in Toledo, the ancient, walled City of Three Cultures with a fascinating history and cultural influences from Christianity, Judaism and Islam. I suggested Toledo as our first stop mostly because it reminded me of Jerusalem and I had developed a fondness for such places. After that, we would join an organized tour of Spain that promised to delight us with the beauty of Córdoba, Seville and the magical Alhambra. Andy was satisfied exploring Spain, but I wanted to make the most of our trip and see more of Europe so I organized city visits to Bern, Salzburg, Vienna and Prague. The rest of the holiday would be in Italy, most of it in Pollone with Grandma, but I allocated a few days to visit my oldest childhood friend Lisa in Verona, and Grandma’s relatives near Venice. I played around with the dates and bookings until I managed to make our final days in Venice coincide with the Carnevale. The last time I was in Venice I promised myself I would return and experience the magic of Carnevale, and being able to share it with my fiancé was going to be a dream come true. Especially when he dressed up in the costume I ordered for him, which matched my renaissance style gown. This was going to be the trip of a lifetime.

Chapter two

Lost luggage and missed trains

Andy stretched, grimacing at the tightness in his muscles.

Remind me to ask for an aisle seat on the way home. My knees were touching the seat in front of me the whole way.

Uh-ha, I mumbled, eyes glued to the baggage carousel. There’s yours!

I grabbed the handle and heaved the large red suitcase before it could disappear around the corner of the conveyor belt.

Careful, it’s heavy. Let me, he said, smoothly lifting it off and placing it on the ground. That was quicker than I expected. Yours should appear soon, and then we can leave. How long does it take to get to Toledo?

Um, around half an hour with the high speed train, I answered, my eyes following the revolving suitcases. But we have to get to the train station first.

Hmm. If it’s not far we could walk to the train station and save money.

I turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. You really want to try and walk all the way to the train station dragging our suitcases behind us?

Andy shrugged. We have a map of Madrid. I’m sure I can find our way to the station.

"I’m sure you could, but we’re both sleep deprived and the last thing I want to do is navigate an unfamiliar city lumbered with baggage. I did that in Israel and it was not fun."

Okay, okay, we’ll get a taxi, Andy said, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

I reached over and held his hand. Don’t worry, I checked online and taxis to the train station are pretty cheap. Besides, if we buy our food mostly from supermarkets we’ll save lots of money, so we can afford to take a taxi every now and then.

Smiling, Andy leaned down and kissed the top of my head. Sounds good.

I turned back to watching the suitcases go round and round on the conveyer belt. One by one, they were claimed and the room emptied until there were only a few people besides us left.

They’ve lost it! The older Spanish woman next to us muttered angrily to her husband.

The man rubbed the top of his bald head and sighed deeply. Let’s report it missing and get out of here. The children are waiting for us.

Shaking her head and grumbling under her breath, the woman let her husband lead her to the back of the room towards an office with a large ‘Lost Luggage’ sign on top. Bad omen.

I looked up into Andy’s bright blue eyes. I have a very bad feeling my suitcase is lost.

How do you know?

I jutted my chin in the direction of the couple standing in line behind a tall, slim, blond young man and his giant dog. They were on the same flight as us, remember? The husband’s suitcase arrived, but hers didn’t.

Maybe they haven't finished unloading?

You’re always so optimistic, I said, rolling my eyes. No, I think it’s lost. Damn it! I should have listened to Dad and avoided the transit through Rome."

It doesn't make sense. We were on the same flight. How can my suitcase be here and yours be missing?

I shrugged and glared at the ‘Lost Luggage’ sign. I’ll ask them to check if all the luggage has been unloaded.

When it was my turn, the airport staff were as helpful as they had been to the blond man and Spanish couple before me. They made soothing noises, guessed that my suitcases hadn’t been loaded onto the aeroplane at the airport in Rome and assured me they would send it to my hotel as soon as it arrived. Either tomorrow or the day after.

Sighing in resignation, I translated for Andy and we headed towards the exit.

Shouldn't we stop somewhere to have passports checked? he asked.

Probably, but I don't see passport control anywhere, I said, eyes scanning the room.

The other passengers walked past a couple of armed guards standing in front of the exit, ignoring them and being ignored in turn.

Excuse me, I interrupted their lively chat. Donde está el control de pasaportes? I said, holding out my Australian passport. (Where is passport control?)

No, no, the bald one waved his hands. No lo necesitas. Just go through.

You speak Spanish well, the other one said with a big smile. But with Italian accent. And Australian passport?

Ah, yes. I shifted from foot to foot, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. I live in Australia, I’m half Italian and learned Spanish at university.

Aaaah, muy bien. But you pronounce like from Madrid, the bald one said with a chuckle.

Mi professors de Español son de Madrid. Are you sure we don't need our passports checked? I gestured to Andy standing next to me, passport in hand. What about a security check? (My Spanish professors are from Madrid.)

Laughing, the bald one shook his head and waved us through. Welcome to Spain.

I looked at Andy, smiled and shrugged. No passport control. Or security check. Let's go.

His eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything and followed me past the guards and through the exit.

Well, that was a lot easier than expected, I said. I was half expecting another traumatic arrival like the one in Israel, but if all I have to deal with is lost luggage, I’m happy.

Andy laughed. Nothing can top your entrance in Israel.

I took the lead and followed the signs towards the exit, stopping at the information desk to ask where the taxi area was. The airport was fairly empty and the only other passengers walking down the corridor were the blond man and his giant dog.

Do you think he will let me pat his dog? I whispered to Andy.

Missing Bruli already, huh?

Just as I was about to say hello to the man, his dog stopped walking, squatted and deposited a poop as large as my head on the shiny, tiled floor.

Ah, Roger you naughty boy! The blond man chuckled and fished for a plastic bag out of his pocket. We are almost outside. You couldn’t wait another minute? He leaned down to clean up the mess.

Smothering a laugh, I grabbed Andy’s free hand and rushed past.

I thought you wanted to pat the dog? Andy sniggered.

He looked busy. I laughed, raising my arm to hail a taxi.

A short and inexpensive ride later to the Madrid Atocha train station, I lined up to buy our tickets for the high speed train to Toledo. The train wasn’t due to depart for another ten minutes which gave us plenty of time to use the bathroom. I braced myself for the stench of urine that normally lingers around train station bathrooms, but a delicate floral scent entered my nostrils. The floor was so clean I could almost see my reflection in it. As were the toilets. And they all smelled like flowers.

Hola, a petite woman with a bouncing ponytail called out.

She finished wringing out the mop and began energetically wiping down the spotless basin and taps.

Hola, I answered. "I have to say, this is the cleanest public restroom I have ever seen!"

Beaming, she began rearranging the rows of perfumes, lipsticks and other feminine products on the bench top. Muchas gracias. I like to have clean bathroom, and I also sell these little things women may need when they use bathroom.

What a good idea. Every public toilet should be like this!

I finished my business, washed my hands with the foamy and fragrant soap, and rushed out to guard our luggage so Andy could use the bathroom. Theirs was apparently not quite as lovely as the women’s, but still impressively clean for a public restroom in a train station.

The guard at the platform for our train seemed to take security more seriously than the guards at the airport and checked every passenger’s ticket and luggage.

Toledo? He looked up from the ticket and raised his thick, black eyebrows. You better run, your train is about to leave.

What?! I gasped. But…but we still have two more minutes!

What’s happening? Andy asked.

Our train is leaving, I told him, panicking slightly.

Run! the guard ordered. He waved us through. Run, run!

I didn’t need to translate. Andy grabbed the large suitcases.

Can you manage the hand luggage?

Yes! Let’s go!

I ran as fast as my short legs could carry me. Andy strode quickly next to me, his long strides mocking my two steps for every one of his own.

The train started to edge forward.

We’re not going to make it, he said, huffing slightly under the weight of the suitcase.

I dropped the handles of the hand luggage and ran forward.

Esperanooooos!!! I yelled at the train, waving my arms over my head. Esperaaaa! (Wait for us! Wait!)

The train picked up speed and launched forward.

Noooo, I wailed, stumbling to a stop and clutching my side.

Andy wrapped an arm around my shoulders. It’s okay, we’ll get the next train.

But the tickets were expensive! €25, and now we’ll have to buy them again.

Andy cringed. Wow, €50… Never mind. We’ll just make sure we wait on the platform so we don’t miss the next one.

My shoulders slumped. Fine. I’ll go get us some more tickets…

I’ll come with you.

It’s okay, I’ll go. Otherwise we have to carry the luggage up and down the stairs again. I’ll be quick.

Alright, but be careful.

I nodded and headed back to the ticket desk at a brisk pace. I was going to get those tickets and be back at the platform before the next train was ready to leave. No way was I missing it a second time.

The guard at the platform shook his head when he saw me return.

Ah, too bad, about the train, he said, barely looking at our new tickets. You should have run faster, he said with a slight smile.

Ha! Me and running don’t get along.

Chuckling, he handed the tickets back and waved me through.

I walked over to Andy with a hesitant smile.

Sooo… good news or bad news? I asked.

Um, bad news. Better to get it over and done with.

Well, there’s only one more train scheduled for Toledo and it leaves at 9.30 pm.

What? But it’s 6 o’clock. We’ll have to wait here for hours…

Yeah, but that’s the good news. We have time to get something to eat and I saw some delicious looking sandwiches on my way back. Pretty cheap too.

Alright, might as well. But I want to be back here at least an hour before the train is due to leave. Just in case.

Oh, me too, I said, fervently. Otherwise we may have to sleep at the train station tonight and I really don’t want to do that.

Shouldering his backpack, Andy reached for the suitcases while I gathered the hand luggage. We made our way to the stalls and cafés crowded with passengers enjoying tapas and big bread rolls of jamon (Spanish ham). My mouth watered. All we’d had to eat were the miserable aeroplane portions of bland food, but now for a few euros we could enjoy a delicious dinner. We chose as we always did - different things we both wanted to try, and shared them. After calling our hotel in Toledo to let them know we would be checking in late, we made our way back to the platform to wait. When the train finally pulled into the station, we were first in line to board.

I can’t believe we’re on our way to Toledo! I whispered to Andy. Andy?

His head was leaning forward and he was breathing deeply. Smiling, I brushed back his curly hair and gently moved his head to lean against the head-rest of the seat. Afraid to fall asleep, and miss our stop, I kept myself awake listening to the conversations in Spanish around me. As fast as they spoke, I managed to keep up with most of it and couldn’t help smugly thinking how proud my Spanish professors would be of me.

It was past ten o’clock at night when our train arrived. It was dark and cold and Toledo seemed like a long way to walk uphill. Even Andy thought so and agreed to use one of the taxis waiting outside the train station. For only €8, our friendly driver expertly navigated the narrow roads of the city and dropped us off right in front of our hotel. The night concierge, Enrico, was expecting us and our room was clean and tidy.

My shoulders loosened. After my experience in Israel I was half expecting a problem with our booking or something wrong with the room, but the only thing to go wrong so far were a missing suitcase and missing the train. No problem. I can deal with that.

Andy fiddled with the wooden shutters and opened the doors leading to the balcony.

Noor, come out here and look at this.

I squeezed myself next to his slim frame on the small balcony.

Oh! I gasped. It’s so beautiful!

It was worth paying a bit extra for the room with a view, he said, putting his arm around my shoulders.

I leaned into him, eyes glued to the illuminated Cathedral, rising high into the night sky.

We stayed like that until we started shivering and yawning uncontrollably.

Chapter three

Toledo

The first thing we did when we woke up was cram onto the balcony and gaze at the Cathedral in the soft, golden morning light.

I can see more detail now, but I think I prefer looking at it at night, I said, leaning against the ice-cold railing. It just looks more magical, lit up like a star.

Andy chuckled. Well, you can admire it every night we’re here, but for now let’s get ready for breakfast. I’m starving.

I’m pretty much ready. I raised my arm and sniffed. Not too stinky, but I think I better borrow a t-shirt.

Andy knelt down and rummaged through his suitcase. Here, try these, he said, holding out a bunch of clothes. Give me a few minutes for a quick shower and then we’ll go eat.

I tried them all on and settled on a long sleeve t-shirt and hooded jumper. They fit me like a tent and the sleeves dangled down past my knees.

Sighing, I rolled up the sleeves. Better than walking around in smelly clothes, I muttered to myself and put them on.

Just a few more minutes, Andy called out from the bathroom. I need to trim my beard. I’m starting to resemble a bear.

Okay, I called back, picking up the mobile phone from the bedside table.

I looked at the clock before dialling. Yeah, she’ll be awake by now.

Ring ring

Pronto?