Category: Travels

The inside of St. Peter’s, the basilica of the Vatican, is full of monuments, statues and works of art.

Outside is just as imposing.

St. Peter’s, the basilica of the Vatican, Rome

The view from the outside does not in my view quite match the splendor that awaits the visitor on the inside of St. Peter.

Saint Peters, the basilica of the Vatican, Rome

The square where thousands of pilgrims and worshipers wait to see and listen to the Pope on his stage.

Guarding the Pope and the Vatican is the Papal Swiss Army. This mercenary stems back to 1506 guarding the Popes, and they have been found to be loyal and have a good reputation for discipline. The Corps of th Pontifical Swiss Guard are the last of the units which has served Kings, courts and states for hundreds of years.

Rather than being of Italian citizenship the Swiss Guard must be Catholic by religion, single males and be a Swiss Citizen, from the Swiss military between the ages of 19 and 30.

The Corps of the Pontifical Swiss Guard



The Swiss Guard at the Vatican

Although I trusted Elena, my translator, when she said the NLP Practitioner course in Roma would be starting at 2pm last Saturday, I had visions of participants arriving at 9am, and my bedside telephone waking me up, with an agitated voice on the other end shouting

“Where are you, they are all sitting here waiting for you?”

so I got up at 7am to prepare just in case, had breakfast, and made sure that I had the morning free.

Not one to do the tourist thing, after all I am there to work, I wondered what to do?

I do not enjoy doing things by myself, but I had a few hours to spare, and I knew that twenty minutes walk, nothing is far in Rome, was The Vatican. I had been there many times before.

Not being a religious person, and not a Roman Catholic, St. Peter’s, the basilica, has no real meaning for me, but it is a beautiful place, and worth a visit. I use some of my experiences from previous visits in my courses and metaphors. Plus, if there is a God, and in the Roman Catholic faith the basilica is the number one house, why not go up there and ask him to sort me out.

So I set out on a wonderful hot sunny Saturday morning. I was happy. I was warm in my tee-shirt, striding out, mixing with the early morning Italian shoppers, and stallholders setting-up their stands on the side of the roads.

Then the heavens open. It caught me unawares, as the sun was still shinning, and yet there were big rain drops.

Walk through it Phillip, it will go.

I got to the Vatican, not too wet, but was amazed that there were so many tourists there already, so I joined the queues to get inside St. Peter’s.

I first entered the tombs of the Popes. I had never been there, and found it for me strange how people were praying at the effigies or tombs of long gone Popes, but then, I have not been brought up in their beliefs.

After leaving the tombs of the Popes, I went into the Basilica itself.

As you walk into St. Peter’s, you have to turn left, and there in front of you is the marvelous work of art by Michelangelo Buonarroti of Florence. It shows the Virgin Mary holding the lifeless body of Jesus Christ in her lap. It is called The Pieta (Italian for “pity”), and was created when Michelangelo was twenty four. Carved from a single block of marble, it took him two years to create, and was unveiled in 1500.

Virgin Mary holding the lifeless body of Jesus Christ in her lap. The Pieta. St. Peters Basilica, The Vatican, Roma.

The basilica is full of statues and/or monuments, some commissioned and created for the Popes. Perhaps the most famous of these was commissioned by Alexander VII to become the archway or exit to the basilica. It was created by an 80 year old Bernini, (there is still chance for me then), in 1678.

I was first out of the aircraft, well apart from the Business Class passengers and that horrid child. (click)

I had a train to catch from Rome’s Fiumicino Aeroporto (airport), on the Leonardo Express to Roma Termini railway station. It is a fastish service running every 30 minutes and taking just over 30 minutes for 11 Euro. Better than a taxi which will cost 50 Euro.

The journey on the train was pleasant, only because an Italian sitting opposite to me insisted on talking and telling me his life story of how Italy had changed so much, and that he had moved to Australia, but still wanted to be with his family near Naples. On and on he went, Please let me look at the countryside.

Peace at last, as I got a taxi to the Jolly Hotel, Leonardo Da Vinci, where I was to stay and give the NLP Practitioner course.

Elena my translator and friend contacted me to say she would be in my hotel reception at 8:30pm so that we can go and have a meal. I had just a few minutes to wait for a welcome real Italian pizza.

It was during the evening when I asked what time do we start that I found that the course did not start at 9am Saturday morning as I presupposed (see definition English or Italian), but 2pm in the afternoon.

Oh Poo Poo I could have flown Saturday morning and saved one night in the hotel.

Still, I can rest Saturday morning, and perhaps go for a walk.

The evening meal, the pizza, was not the best, but certainly welcomed, as we sat at the tables on the street outside the restaurant, a practice most restaurants employ. It was the ice cream that followed that I enjoyed.

Oh how I love Italian ice cream, Sicilian the most, with all their exotic flavours, coconut being my favourite, full of real coconut.

Perhaps I can work on the internet Saturday morning?

No way. The Jolly Hotel chain as many in around the world, but not Turkey, charge extra for access to the internet. In this case 5 Euro (£4) for half an hour. Robbery.

Then Elena told me, in her hotel, which is much cheaper than mine, she has free access.

Oh Poo Poo I will have to watch BBC World Service or CNN all night.

The start of my journey proved to be going wrong, (click to read previous times), but my faith in Oh Poo Poo saw me through with a smile on my face.

As I travel so much in the air, I have a reasonable idea of where I would like to sit. I cannot afford Business or First Class travel, why pay so much when you arrive at the same time, and instead of the food being served on china plates, it is served on plastic, so I fly baggage class. In with the suitcases in the hold.

If possible I try and get the front seat window of the economy cabin. This has a number of advantages. I can rest my head on the bulkhead of the aircraft to sleep, I can be one of the first off the aircraft, so less queuing at passport control, and sometimes the seats are the same seat of those in Business Class, they just move the class divider to give more seat to economy class.

Failing the front seat, get the emergency window exit seat over the wings. These seats give more leg room, and also allows you to leave the seat without disturbing the people in the seats next to you.

Failing getting either of the first two options, get the very back window seats. OK it is more bumpy with air turbulence, but you tend to get your food first, and so what, there is going to be a big queue and a fight to get off the aircraft, sit back and let them get on with it.

So it was on my trip to Roma, I was able to get seat 4A, front of economy, lots of space, just the last business class seat in front of me and dividing curtain. I can put-up with that for two hours the flight would take.

The problem was, there was a small child, less than 5 years old occupying seat 3A in front of me.

I do not know what nationality the child was, as I could not understand the language, even “Mama” was said in a foreign tongue I have never heard before.

The mother had no discipline over the child. It was jumping up and down. The seat back was continually being raised up and down into my face. It was screaming and shouting, laughing and crying at will. It ran up and down the isle.

People around me were really upset. No sleep was achieved. Just an unruly child.

To make matters worse, when the meal was served, lunch, it was pathetic. a sandwich, little biscuit and red orange juice.

Alitalia food June 2008, London to Rome. AZ203

This is cost cutting to extreme. A year ago, although again the food was pathetic, Alitalia did serve more.

Alitalia food May 2007, London to Milan.

Yes this is how most airlines are going, but the only difference I can tell with the low cost airlines and scheduled national carriers, is that on low cost flights you can choose either to buy or not to buy food, and you have a choice what to buy, and on national carriers, you get no choice, and you will probable pay twice the amount for the ticket.

Oh Poo Poo sit back and enjoy, at least I will get to Rome.

I was asked by my good friend Alessio Roberti founder of NLPItaly to give part of the NLP Practitioner course to participants in Rome.

It is not the first time I have been to Rome. Over the years I have given many courses there, and seen private clients on a 1-2-1 basis.

Rome certainly has a character of its’ own, from the cobbled streets, to the history of ancient Rome, the religious aspects of the many churches, plus the Vatican.

Every building in Roma has character, unlike Milano which are built in a style from Mussolini days, very flat and square, no shape.

I had decided to leave Friday 12:15 midday, on an Alitalia flight from Heathrow, and checked in on the internet, and I checked the flight details prior to leaving home, and all was OK.

On arriving in Heathrow, Terminal 2, I approached a representative of Alitalia, only to be told the flight had not even left Rome on its’ inward journey to London. Oh Poo Poo.

“Would it actually be flying or would it be canceled?”

No problem, there will be other flights, the course does not start until Saturday morning.

I went through to departures. At least I can look around the limited duty free shops. Now I know why they are there, as I am forced to buy more books to read. Thank goodness for PhotoReading.

Two and a half hours delay. Oh Poo Poo but no rush, I can relax.

An announcement is made over the public address system:-

      “All Alitalia passengers on AZ203, please go to desk number one, where you can obtain a food voucher.“

Great, I can get some decent food for lunch, as all Alitalia now serve is a non descript sandwich, a small biscuit and a soft drink in a plastic cup. One good thing to come out of the delay.

The queue at desk number one is long, and I begin to talk to the fellow passengers around me.

I heard different accents. American, Australian, German, Italian, British. All had a tail to tell. All of the looked tired, sleepless, and were complaining.

The Americans had flown into London the previous day, but instead of seeing the sites, had gone to bed.

The Australians had left Australia two days previously, the flight was late leaving, flown to Hong Kong, were their connecting flight with Cathay Pacific to Rome had just left. They were re booked onto another fight with Korean Air going to London, from London they would take Alitalia to Rome. In all the confusion, their baggage had been lost.

Oh Poo Poo.

My delay was nothing.

But the queue was not moving. For half an hour we stood in the same place. Alitalia had run out of meal vouchers.

Oh Poo Poo.

Eventually, I got my voucher, and had my lunch. I was lucky, I had nothing special to do. Elena Martelli my translator for the weekend would not arrive in Rome until 8pm, when we would meet and have an evening meal together. No rush.

That’s another story.

Last night here in Bahrain there was a wedding party, but I was not invited.

I had just finished day two of a PhotoReading course organised by the MakeOver Experience (click to view courses in Bahrain), and was looking forward to a quiet night watching a recording of the BBC program The Apprentice on my UK TV via the internet and Slingbox.

Typical hotel charges of 6BD or about £12 for twenty four hours access to the internet, not good value really as I will be asleep for say 8 hours, then today I will be running the last day of the PhotoReading course, but at 2BD or £4 and hour, it is cheaper to buy 24 hours.

I enjoy The Apprentice, the characters, personalities, the games they play trying to win a job with Sir Alan Sugar.

Then the ceiling of my 9th floor room in the Elite Hotel, Bahrain, began to drum as a band started playing Arabic music, heavy with base instruments and drums.

Chairs were being moved across the floor of the venue above me.

I contacted reception to ask how long the party would be going on until, and I was informed “2am”.

Oh Poo Poo. I need sleep. I have been kept awake by different sounds, but I have never slept with a dance band or at a wedding party.

Without any hesitation, I was invited to change rooms, to be upgraded to a Gold Suite, and lots of apologizes.

All I want is a quiet room of reasonable quality, a shower, and a TV, not a suite. But I am not complaining.

Thank you Elite Hotel.

When flying from A to B, I love the window seat.

Having the window seat has a number of advantages.

I can look down at the passing world below me, wondering if people know I am up above them.

I can look at the ever changing landscapes, mountains, deserts, seas, coastlines, cities and towns with their interconnecting roads, railways and rivers.

I do not get disturbed by people wanting to go to the toilet, but then that means I cannot go myself.

The biggest advantage is that I can lean my head against the bulkhead of the aircraft, and sleep.

  Flying with Alitalia over the snow covered Alps

After a day of preparing for my up and coming trip to Bahrain, reloading software, ready for the training courses I will give there in NLP, PhotoReading, Mind Maps and two courses for over forty kids, I needed a break and a long walk.

Near to my home in Kingston upon Thames is Richmond Park. My last walk in the park, (click here to read), was last November, with the leaves turning lovely colours of browns, orange and yellows, and it was cold. Today, it was sunny and hot, and the Royal Park was the place to go.

It was a time to explore, as the quietness of the park was only broken by the rat-tat-tatting of a woodpecker, the birds singing their songs, and the occasional plane taking off from Heathrow racing into the sky.

I knew that there was somewhere in the park some small lakes, but I had never visited them, so like an explorer, I set out into uncharted grounds, OK, following some little used footpath into the center of the park.

It was then that I came across Isabella Plantation. (Watch video). I had never heard of the area, a wooded and fenced off area of some 17 hectares. It was enclosed in 1831, when most of the oak, beech and sweet chestnut trees were planted.

In and around 1950, a garden was started and continues to be worked upon, containing heathers, rhododendrons, azaleas, magnolias and camellias, set between the mature trees and little streams of water.

                        

                        

                       

                                

At various points in Isabella’s Plantation the streams entered little ponds of water. Swimming there were many ducks and coots, and the colourful Mandarin ducks.

On the walk home a herd of deer (no sick ones) relaxed.

A wonderful walk, to empty my mind ready for the flight to Bahrain.

So the old song goes :-

            I do like to be beside the seaside!
            Oh, I do like to be beside the sea!
            I do like to stroll along the prom, prom, prom,
            While the brass band plays tiddleyompompom!

It is a song that dates back in the UK music halls and was written in 1907. Here is an old film that might amuse.

                                    

                                        Basil Rathbone from “The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes” (1939)

Why is it that the sea seems to draw us to it? It does for me. The sound of the waves. The ever changing patterns of waves. The smell. The energy. The relaxation.

I was such a lovely day, and the seaside called.

Brighton, an English seaside town on the south coast is about an hour journey from Kingston upon Thames, (click to see video) my home town. The train was quick and easy, five stops from Norbiton Station (click to see SouthWest train arriving at Norbiton Station) to Clapham Junction, then a fast train from Clapham Junction to Brighton with only two stops.

Exiting from Brighton railway station, the sea can be seen, but it is a long walk down to the prom or sea front.

How many times as a young boy, did I long to be the first to see the sea when we went away on holiday with my mother and father?

    “First one to see the sea gets six pence,” my father always said, and always I got the six pence.

Brighton beach is pebbles, not a sandy beach, which plays havoc on ones feet, and can be quite uncomfortable to sit on, but thousands do, especially on such a warm sunny day.

The sea water is a little too cold in May to go swimming for the masses, only the brave few could be seen in the calm waters. But, there were the odd one or two bikinis to be seen, and bare chests as people tried to get a suntan. I think I caught the sun as my face is quite red now.

It was relaxing just to spend an hour on the steep pebble beach between the two piers.

Brighton had two piers. A pier is a strange British custom, mostly built and dating back to pre First World War.
 
Ther are either a wooden or metal structure, built out to sea, so that holiday makers could promenade up and down the pier taking in the sea air. Often there would be a theatre built on the far end, and amusement arcades and kiosks placed along the length. Many would have fun fairs or lunar parks.

                                                                 Brighton’s pebble beach

                

                                                                                              Brighton beach and pier

                                                     Fun fair or Lunar Park

Due to the materials used in the construction of piers, many have been washed or blown away, or as in the case of one of the Brighton piers, burned down.

                                                      The remains of one of Brighton’s piers

Another tradition of the seaside experience is a fish and chip meal, perhaps with mushy peas, and in my case a glass of Champagne. Sorry folks, I am a man of tradition, and I was hungry.

                                                      Traditional British Fish n Chips

See A couple of hours beside the sea