I loathe the term ‘my ex’. It has a combination of rejection/repulsion/repelsion (I know, I couldn’t work out the nominalisation for repel so I made it up because fuck the police) and possession. ‘This person and I have rejected each other but we are bound together for eternity’.
I abhor the term ‘marital status’ and the demands that we answer the question even more. Not only is it irrelevant – contact person, yes, marital status, no – all status options are in relation to marriage. Married = yes, divorced = not any more, single = not yet, widowed = DON’T TOUCH ME I’M FINE, separated = fucked if I know what’s going on but I’m still up for flirting. Putting the status back into marital status. Anti-marriage people should ponder the ranking of relationships and how it enables homophobia by meditating on the term ‘marriage status’ just for a jiffy.
So my son’s dad and my former partner Marz turned 60 this year and this time last year he said ‘I’m thinking of taking the boys to Italy for my birthday.’ ‘Great idea!’ I said. I called him back a few minutes later and said ‘Hey, why don’t you take them to Italy and I’ll take them to Ireland?’ He loved the idea but hates organizing travel, luckily his partner and I both love it. So the idea was joked about, spoken about, decided upon and in the spirit of ‘we’re not a blended family we’re a splendid family’ the balls were in motion. Our kids, our partners and a couple of our partners’ kids.
First stop was to hook up in Rome, I’d hand over the boys (Marz and his partner had already been in Italy for a fortnight) we’d all hang out for a couple of days and then Bear and I would do our own thing for a few weeks and afterwards the boys would meet Bear and me in Berlin.
A few years ago the boys all got an overseas trip, The 19yo went on exchange to Japan as a 16yo, the 14yo travelled with Bear and me to London, Paris, Amsterdam and Singapore as an 11yo and the 16yo went to New York with Marz, his partner and her son a few days after his 15th birthday.
When Marz and I were together we travelled a lot in Asia with the boys when they were little. Bali, Lombok, Thailand, Vanuatu, Borneo, Vietnam. It was cheap, hot, there were pools, ice creams, animals and crazy modes of transport through dinky towns, bustling cities, muddy countrysides, rice fields and tropical forests. I was always keen to travel, Marz was keen too but would be the first to admit he’s not the most relaxed traveler.
A week before we all left to Rome the 14yo and I were talking about his highlights of the last European trip and he mentioned the night bike ride through Paris. We are all regular riders so I Googled bike tours in Rome, found REX Bike Tours. We locked in a Rome City night tour (all the sights) the night after we arrived and then the next morning a day tour along the Appian Way.
The weather was perfect and the eight of us rocked up to the Rex office at 5pm where we were met by two devastatingly handsome and charming German-Italian brothers Leopold and Massimo who run the outfit. We hopped on our bikes (under 18s had to wear helmets, for adults optional) and took off with our guide; the blonde, easygoing and informative, Arturo.
We hadn’t planned to do the night bike tour in Paris in 2014. When we landed our mate, Jess, who is a manager of a tour company in Paris suggested it. I always try to ride bikes wherever I am but I had never been on a tour. The night Paris tour with Fat Tire Tours – Paris was one of my all time travel highlights.
If you can ride a bike the first thing you should do when you rock up to a new city is to get on a bike tour. Nothing helps you orient a new city like a bike ride with a tour guide.
You whirl though the streets getting a feel for the layout of the city as you fly in 3D through the space. Buses and walking are too slow for me. I get isolated locations but they don’t really relate with each other. Bike riding is always my perfect speed to experience a new city. I don’t feel like I have ‘got’ the city till I have ridden its streets. Riding feels like a flipbook of the city. I imagine it’s a bit like speed-reading. You can get across the basics really fast and then you can tack back if you want more details.
We did over a dozen stops on those two hours, my ex, our kids, his partner, my partner and his partner’s son. It was a Sunday night so it was chockers but we wove our way in single file as if we were on a piece of string along cobblestone lanes, footpaths, piazzas and busy main roads.
It was a warm autumn Sunday night and the streets were packed with people sucking up the last of the rays of summer. We covered Piazza Navova, century-old back street frescos, a tiny church full of art that had three Caravaggios, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, the Coliseum… sing along if you know the words.
I can’t explain the euphoria of the warm night, the first day of travel, being in Rome, the relief of finally landing, successful navigation of the trip from home to another country and seeing your kids on bikes on the other side of the world gob-smacked, amazed and finally thinking the horrific 24 hour flight was worth it.
In the same way planning a trip is like circling in from up high, a bike tour where I don’t have to navigate is the reverse; it’s as if I am taking off from ground, slowly finding my feet, the directing of wind and absorbing the lay of the land.
We landed back at the bike tour office and split into the exhausted and jetlagged, who headed straight back home, and the full of beans people up for food. Bear, his son Roo, my 14yo and I ended up at a chaotic joint suggested by Arturo called Pizzeria Montecarlo. The place was jumping, the service was abrupt, the food was delicious and I was quite taken by the signs everywhere telling us we were forbidden to use mobile phones because it interfered with the pizza ovens.
We wandered home buzzing through the warm streets and flopped onto the bed grinning from ear to ear, smug as fuck and amazed at how much we had managed to cover in one day. We didn’t plan to chock it in but go with the flow. And so it flowed. Some days are like that.
I kept reflecting on how happy I was, how lucky we were and how I fucking loved travel. I was constantly aware how our health and fitness was a massive, massive part of the enjoyment of the day. Yes we look after ourselves but you can only do so much. No amount of wellness, self care and physical activity can guarantee being mobile, pain free and mentally well.
When I did the Trans-Siberian express as a 24yo I made a pact with myself to travel as much as I could while my body was able.
As exhilarated as I was by the food, weather, culture, history, exercise, food, laughs (Is this the Paris end of Rome?), all being together on the other side of the world, that sense of achievement you get from successfully accomplishing travel plans, exceeding your wildest expectations and our total lack of jetlag, it was breaking The Marcia Hines Record with my Fitbit total for the day of 38,735 steps (26.73 kilometres) was what had me declare day one on Rome my best travel day ever.
I’ll let Michael Lallo explain what the Marcia Hines Record is in the comments.
No sore feet but a little sunburn. We even managed a shag before we conked out.
