AH SURE AZURE

Tag: Architecture

  • When sailing matters

    Caught up in the hurly burly storm of everyday life, people wonder what’s it like to step into a different reality – where the sun shines and you’re surrounded by water, magnificent greenery and in short Greece. Every year, friends come to visit to recharge their batteries and rekindle friendships.

    This blog is dedicated to Dara and Roisin

    The two Musketeers, Roisin and Dara, in Paxos

    They arrived in August late at night while we ate pizza in Ipsos. Pale and overdressed, they soon relaxed over wine and pizza, as the Dutch waiter also relaxed and took off his shirt behind the counter. It added to the abandonment of the occasion – arrival in the middle of a holiday island, the season in full swing.

    By the next day, they had acclimatised and we made plans to take Karolina, my 29 foot sailboat to Paxos for a few days.  

    We had  a wild passage between Corfu and Paxos and we were too tired to get off the boat that night, preferring to stay on board and cook some pasta. Next morning saw us up and about, on the SUP board, swimming and moving the boat into prime party position, at the pier wall. We now had our stern or back of the boat leading directly onto the quay allowing us to get on and off easily. This didn’t prevent our most experienced crew member, Dara, from slipping off the SUP board we had put in between the boat and the quay wall. She was out in a jiffy , unhurt.

    Dara’s idea of a fun day is cleaning and fixing things on a boat, so Roisin and I let her at it and did some serious clothes shopping. Roisin’s keen eye revealed to me how I could wear some clothes that had a truly Greek flavour. The town of Lakka was full of model like Italians, who walked around in glamourous whites and light blues, complimenting their tanned skin and incredible features. and that was only the men. Women and children were catwalk level. We just gaped as we ate dinner in the evening warmth.

    Back to the boat for a more relaxing sleep. My comrades had spotted that I had a lot of stuff in my cabin at the rear of the boat. They had vowed to clear it out before they alowed me sleep. I was banished to the cockpit as they pulled out the incredible array of stuff – dinghy cover, SUP bag, old solar panels, seat for the dinghy, the list went couldn’t sleep – how did you even get into the cabin with all this around you?

    When I eventually regained my cabin, I just laid back and fell into a deep sleep, but not before I had foraged a couple of cushions to make up for  the  lost stuff and soften the edges of my dreams.

    Next morning, we were first at the fournos or bakery for Bougatsa – like mille feuille with loads of creme vanille and spinach pie with Ellinikos coffee.

    Our journey home was easier – no big seas like on the journey down – we got to grips with the auto pilot and by the time we were approaching Ipsos, I was settled back on the prime seat at the back of the boat, watching the miles slip by and listening to hits from the 90s and feeling – so this is what  its all about. It takes time to get really comfortable with a boat and having Dara with me gave me that extra insight into what my lovely Karolina could do. I have to admit to being challenged by the ownership of a boat and being tempted to sell it. Equally, I believe a boat is meant to challenge you and teach you something. Maybe perseverence and patience is my lesson. Things change and it takes time to learn . I’m so happy I stayed with it.

    Our next excitement was an architectural one. Dara’s web of sailing friends had introduced us to a family in Paleokatrisa, who were related to the architect of the Municipal theatre in Corfu which is renowned for its ugliness, being a brutalist concrete heap, replacing an elegant charming edifice that was bombed by the Germans in  WW11. Musketeer Roisin is an architect. As we sat in the enchanting Lucciola Gardens, a bottle of red open and delicious mezzes on the table, Dara attempted to subtly warn her not to get into any argy bargy over the Theatre when we visited the family next day. What followed was a stream of intellectualism that left me grabbing the side of the table with laughter. Apparently the architects after the second world war believed they were going to change the world with their vision. The buildings would be bare, but adorned with plants, so we would feel connected with nature. That wasn’t the funny part. It was how she went into raptures about the theatre which apparently, she appreciated as it reflected the walls of the fortress of Corfu, and if we hadn’t dragged her away, she could have explained this to us and that it was as if Corbusier went to South America and came back again and we need to take more notice of what’s around us and not always rush her away.

    Still she was on her best behaviour next day and never once mentioned Corbusier or the theatre.

    The week flew past, full of conversations and laughter. Three people you would never have put together found common interests and held out opinions and took care of feelings and gently advised for the best in a setting that would scarcely have been possibe had I not moved away from Ireland.

    I struggled with my tears as I dropped them at the airport. Nothing compares to dear friends.

  • Every twentyfour hours 15

    Every twentyfour hours 15

     

    I started the day by visiting the market at Senigallia, down the coast from Fano. I was little prepared for the stunning elegance of the old town. Wide bridges take you across the river, then though arches into the smaller streets. Columns line the quays where the main part of the market took place – clothes, shoes, jewellery etc.

    Further down the quays, the fruit and vegetable market was located in the old Agora or market, a semi circle of stone buildings facing in on the central area of the outdoor market place, dating from Roman times. It had been renovated and preserved with great precision and attention to detail. So while I came to Senigallia for the market, I was bowled over by the architecture and the Old town.

    Later in the day, I drove inland to Urbino. This is a must see city if you are on Italy’s east coast. I drove through Fano, then along the old Via Flaminia towards Rome. Roman History was one of my favourite subjects in school and it thrilled me to follow the ancient road towards Roma. Perfectly level of course, built as only the Romans knew how. We in Ireland never had the benefit of Roman roads like the rest of Europe as they clearly did not think it was worth their while invading as they did in England.

    A word about Fano – a significant old Roman town where you will see the most imposing walls and fortresses topped with intricate stonework and images of emperors.  Again not to be missed.IMG_5830

    When I reached  Urbino, I went straight to the Palazzo Ducale built to the order of Frederico Montefeltro, in the fifteenth century, a ruler, warrior, patron of architecture and art, from the fifteenth century , in other words, a Renaissance man. He ensured that Urbino became a major court and important centre of political and cultural matters. Concerned for his subjects, he ruled fairly. He commissioned Luciano Laurano to build the Palace, in accordance with the latest theories of building and architecture. The result is a beautifully proportioned but enormous palace, with room after massive room and vaulted ceilings topped by the Eagle, the crest of the Montofeltros. The Palace today houses the National Gallery of the Marche area and contains many works by Piero di Francesco, Paulo Ucello and the famous La Muta by Raphael.

    One of the more stunning of the paintings to me,  is the Madonna of Senigallia, yes the place I mentioned as having the market earlier in this blog. I seldom take photos of paintings but I was so taken by the colours and the expressions on the faces – seeming in awe yet very concerned – a sense of foreboding as to what is to come, that I broke my usual rule.IMG_5838

    One of the rooms or studios is walled in the most wonderful cabinetry. The designs make optical illusions so that musical instruments seem to protrude from the walls.

    At the risk of sounding hopelessly romantic, I will share with you a moment that was utterly Italian. As I walked down from the Palace towards where my car was parked, I stopped on one set of battlements that overlook the road that winds around the base of the Palace. I was looking at the surrounding hills with their Cypress trees and sloping fields when a row of motor cyclists came into view, lazily making their way around the bends. I noticed one of them was wearing full leathers and I wondered why he was the only one dressed like that. Then one of other riders looked up at me, beeped the horn and waved. I returned the wave and that was it. But it had a touch of magic to it, a kind of Italian style and spontaneity on a beautiful sunny afternoon when it was truly good to be alive.

  • Every Twentyfour hours 5

    Every Twentyfour hours 5

     

    This is a long blog so I have headed up some sections that you may wish to skip.

    Woke with a slight headache which I put down to anxiety because it went as I relaxed during the journey.

    The range of patisseries in France is incredible. Imagination, variety and low price.IMG_5734

    Technical stuff:

    I had a couple of problems before I left Tourlaville and Camping Cotentin.

    1. Lowering the stands – the wheel brace is inserted into a hole in the fibreglass rim, but the fibreglass had risen above the actual screw so it had to be put on at an angle. This had worsened so I could not get the wheelbrace out. I eventually got it out and had to file the fibreglass to make sure it came out again. I had noticed this before and forgot to remind Newbridge caravans to fix it before I left Ireland.
    2. The jockey wheel came off in my hand after I had successfully put the trailer on the towbar of the car. I could see the handle to attach it but could not see the corresponding part. At this stage I just sat down on the grass and said Kathy you are an eejit to think you can do this. Then I saw that the metal part attaching to the trailer had just flopped out. I clamped it back in again and screwed it tight.

    Off I went, not at all sure of myself. Then I saw the boot was open from the dashboard although it had not flopped up. I found the first parking bay and closed it.  Forgot to mention that in France, the contacts to open barriers, tolls etc are all on the passenger’s side, so I had fun at the campsite swiping the card and dashing around to the driver’s side before the barrier came down. The tolls are similar although they give you enough time to get back to your side of the car.IMG_5729

    My eyes were sore and watery and I felt tired after about 75km so I watched for somewhere to stop. At this point I was nearly in Caen, so I made for the centre and drove around there not finding anywhere decent to stop, I found myself coming back up on the main road and suddenly feeling much better. My eyes stopped hurting and I felt more sure of myself. I could see the direction I should be going as I had studied to map fairly well. I think it was also that the sun had risen in the sky and was not blinding me so much. Also the change in focus in the smaller street of Caen probably gave my eyes a rest.

    I stopped at a small aire where I had a coffee and felt I was really beginning to enjoy the journey.

    My destination La Chappelle Pres Sees (Sees) was 100 km beyond Caen and as I approached it, I felt like continuing driving.

    Driving with a caravan:

    While towing a caravan is daunting at first, you do get used to it.

    I had a nasty experience going up to Dublin when a truck passing me caused a huge air surge and put me off course. The trailer started to sway and I veered into the outside lane trying to regain control. I dropped my speed immediately and it came back to normal.

    This caused me to be nervous of trucks passing. However, the air surge will not cause swaying. It is your reaction that causes it. If you stay on course with a steady hand, the caravan will keep straight.

    It is a bit like riding a horse, if you turn your head, the horse feels you want to change direction as your whole body follows your head. Only it is not anything as sensitive as that.

    What I do know is that if you feel you are losing control at all, slow down. Like skiing, if you’re going too fast you will be out of control. The only way to regain it is to slow down.

    My driving, even without the caravan has been transformed. I am more aware at corners and more vigilant in general. I am no expert but I am certainly learning.

    I realise I can probably do more than 200 km a day. It took me 3 hours without stops and Three and a half with.

    Sightseeing:

    I passed a camping Aire on the way in to Sees which I did not use although it looked great. Camping in France is so well catered for. There is a whole world of possibilities

    As I drove towards Sees, I noticed signs for the caravan site which took you on the perimeter of the town. It was incredibly easy to find and is within easy walking distance of the centre.

    I parked at the train station before going to the caravan park and walked in to the town. What a treat was in store. It is a warren of ancient streets with every building preserved and ornamented from every angle. An enormous cathedral dominates the town.

    The square at the centre is flanked by the Mairie and the museum, all beautifully preserved and decked with flowers.

    The museum had an exhibition of photographs of a Buddhist temple in Java – Borobudur and its regular exhibition of religious artefacts dating back to the 12th century. Entrance was only €2 and well worth it.

    I could hear organ music as I approached the cathedral. There is nothing nicer then relaxing in a stone church away from the bustle and heat of the afternoon. But I was not prepared for the vastness and antiquity of this structure. With the organ music billowing around me I was quite overwhelmed and emotional by the beauty of it all. A few other tourists had wandered in out of the heat and we all stood spellbound as the organ rolled and rose to a crescendo of lower and yet lower notes which thundered inside the echoing walls of the church. I thought it has to be over, but then I heard the turning of pages in the perfect acoustics of the church. The music began again and I understood the true meaning of the phrase ‘pulling out all the stops’.

    Camping Le Clos Normand:

    Getting here was so easy- leaving here will be the more difficult task. Grassy large pitches, with all the amenities you expect from a French campsite. Tariff was €11 including electricity. The weather is so balmy that the breeze blowing through the trees is very welcome.

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