The Year of the Roller Coaster

The Chinese name their lunar years after the animals in their zodiac. These revolve in a twelve year cycle. In a few weeks, we will be in year of the snake. All sorts of propitious things are promised. But then, the year of the dragon, which we are leaving, predicted all sorts of good fortune too.

Not wanting to be left out, I’ve decided to name my years – not according to any zodiacal sign but simply on their merits. In my system, names are applied retrospectively so that a more accurate nomenclature will apply. Last year was definitely the year of the roller coaster.

Roller coaster in grey Image: Priscilla du Preez on Unsplash

A worrisome year

2024 seemed to offer nothing but bad news (and I’m not even beginning to comment on world affairs). My brother-in-law died, my best friend from graduate school had a catastrophic stroke and too many friends were given awful diagnoses.

As a consequence, rather than looking forward to 2025 with hope, I looked to it with trepidation, knowing that at least some of those mentioned would not make it until 2026. I wasn’t sure that I had the stamina to cope.

Then I did something that shifted everything into perspective. I went through my new diary putting in birthdays, medical appointments and anniversaries as usual, but this time, I wrote on a separate sheet any good thing that had happened in a month. It didn’t have to be big or Instagram-worthy – it just had to be good.

A pleasant surprise

What I discovered was that every month had at least one happy event (and often more), which a cloud of worry had made me forget. Furthermore, on closer inspection, I realised that these events were giving me hints on how to cope when life most certainly wasn’t going to plan.

Let’s face the music and dance

Having last seen a professional live band sometime in the 1980’s, it was rather brilliant to see two this past year. I have Mariia to thank for this.

In concert in Brighton Image: Mariia Matrunich

In January, we got to see the wonderful Dakha Brakha. Their skill as musicians and the moving imagery projected behind was a reminder that even when the worst occurs (invasion by a wicked superpower pretty much tops the list) that joy and beauty can still be found.

And in April, we got to see Ukraine’s top band, Ocean Elsa. It was a poignant experience with most of the audience composed of displaced Ukrainians. The performance gave them a taste of home.

This band, like Dakha Brakha, have used their international tours to remind others of the difficulties those in Ukraine continue to endure and to raise funds for the war effort.

When Ocean Elsa’s performance was interrupted recently in Kyiv by the air raid sirens, they continued the concert in the underground station. In doing so, they thrilled their fans and reminded them that the spirit cannot be silenced.

(The video above was taken by Mariia’s friend and content creator for the band, Oleksandra Hyzha)

Art to console and inspire

In almost every month, I took advantage of trips to galleries and exhibitions. Both our holidays centred around places of especially wonderful architecture and art. Vienna (June) was designed as a huge visual spectacle and Venice (September) was a veritable 3D picture postcard.

Vienna’s centre was built to impress and residents are rightly proud to live in such a city. For the purpose of this blog, it was an area on the periphery that interested me. Here, the architect Hundertwasser had designed social housing that would uplift the hearts of those struggling financially and bring joy to even the hardest day. His use of vibrant colour and inclusion of nature tried to show that even the most modest housing stock need not be depressingly grey.

The Art House that exemplifies Hundertwasser’s unique style. Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Venice, magnificent though it is, lacks soul. The grand piazzas and glorious facades are designed to impress. It is architectural conspicuous consumption. Though we may gaze in awe, we are not included in its glories.

The churches in Padua, in contrast, were a kind of exaltation. Their exquisite frescoes, paintings, tile and marquetry were commissioned in the service of God. Everyone was welcome to both wonder at their beauty and to bring their concerns. Padua is an important pilgrimage site and if you have any faith or none, the churches offered consolation in a difficult world.

In the company of friends

Few days, let alone weeks went by without visits to friends – some regular meetings like craft club and others more occasional, like my university friends’ annual reunion. All of them reminded me that nothing material can come close to the joy that shared companionship brings and any effort needed to host or entertain is rewarded with double in laughter and boosted morale.

My 60th in May provided a great opportunity to bring friends and family together and set the decade off on a positive note.

May sunshine, friends and Prosecco – what more could one want? Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And so my diary went on: a coffee morning here, a visit from my son there. Over and over I had been blessed with joy in one form or another. And reading through it, I realised that I had fallen for the pity-party narrative when I should have been rejoicing at my good fortune. Yes, the year has brought a plethora of problems and yet, should I focus on these, I would lose that most valuable attribute: hope.

So, if you are feeling a little ground down by life, you might like to review the good times and remember that though the roller coaster lurches downwards for what can seem an eternity, it will climb again soon.

La Dolce Vita

Our recent trip to Northern Italy has left my head positively fizzing with the beauty of its art and architecture.

We had planned the break as an opportunity to meet up with very dear friends who live in Germany. We were twice blessed: with an amazing location and great companions to share it with.

Tempting though it is to make this a postcard account of a short but very full stay, I’d like to veer from the Tripadvisor mode and focus a little more on some of the less obvious aspects and the longer lasting impacts of such a adventure.

With our usual good luck, we were to arrive in Venice on the day of a nationwide transport strike, which meant we could get to Venice airport but not the city nor our planned destination of Padua. Hmm. We were not to be deterred and my husband sorted a hotel in Venice and a vaporetto to get us there. Costly, but worth it.

The floating world

We sped into Venice, James Bond style, the boat barely skimming the water as it jetted along. With the sun setting on the lagoon, the city looked especially ethereal, rising dimly out of the sea on fragile foundations.

It was indeed a floating world – both in the literal and metaphorical sense. Venice is held barely above the water and floods often. Even if one has never visited the city, it floats in our imaginations as a dreamscape of mystery and beauty.

Yet, it also matches the Japanese idea of ‘the floating world’. Originally, it was a Buddhist concept of life as difficult and transitory, yet the meaning was inverted during the Edo period to mean the passing pleasures of the hedonist: beautiful women and the entertainment wealth could purchase.

The city upon the sea
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

For those of us fortunate enough to be able to afford such travel, Venice is a pleasure ground of magnificent architecture and art; designer shopping and elegant concerts. For those working in Venice, it is perhaps a different story. Whilst the grandeur of its buildings boasts the success of the few, the narrow, dark and sometimes sinister back streets and the ripe smell of the canals come evening, suggests a different story. This dualism was encapsulated by a middle-aged man wheeling the excessive luggage of two Japanese tourists over a steep, stepped bridge. Loui Vuitton meets luggage trolley.

Because grand though it is, Venice is a city of stark contrasts and once you move away from the tourists in St Mark’s Square and into the back streets, the more obvious this becomes. However, these quieter parts were no less beautiful for their simplicity. Every so often, we would come across a barely populated piazza with a few trees and a central well. Washing hung on long lines from the balconies and perhaps a small dog would pass by on its walk.

Awe-inspiring though Venice is, it is still a city of commerce and glaringly demonstrated wealth. It was certainly worth a visit – but one will do.

Vicenza – architectural wonders

Our German friends, Sarah and Michael had driven to Padua to meet us, so we had the advantage of transport. Both my friends and I had been encouraged to visit the nearby town of Vicenza for its ancient architectural beauty and the famous Rotunda.

The town itself is an architect’s dream with wide streets and a large imposing piazza in the centre. It is also home to the first indoor theatre – Teatro Olimpico. Renaissance frescoes and vaulted covered walkways aside, it is a thriving, modern industrial centre. Tourists from abroad are few and I suspect that they like it that way. When we went for a coffee, the waiter spoke no English and my very limited Duolingo Italian finally felt worth the effort.

La Rotunda built in 1565 Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

The main draw of Vincenza is its buildings and it is the show case of the influential architect, Palladio. From his name is drawn Palladian – that symmetrical, open design which harks back to that of classical Rome and Greece. His style reached its height of popularity in the 18th century, two centuries after he designed the Rotunda, and is still relevant today.

Chioggia – The working man’s Venice

Taking advantage of the fine weather, our friends took us to Chioggia the following day. Like Venice, it is filled with canals and surrounded by the lagoon, but unlike Venice, it is quiet and unhurried. We arrived on a Monday, so many of the shops were closed and the cafes, bustling with locals from noon until two pm, suddenly emptied and closed. Dawdling as we were, we were fortunate to be given a table at 2.05! The kind waitress took pity on us and delayed the end of her shift until we were fed.

Chioggia is a port and fishing town with a small stretch of beach that attracts summer visitors. It is modest but pleasing with houses hugging the sides of canals and peaceful streets with flower-filled window boxes. My favourite place there was a tiny 14th century church. It was only one room and sparsely decorated, but it echoed with the prayers of centuries.

Padua – city of learning and pilgrimage

Our base was the magnificent city of Padua – home to the second oldest university in Italy and to innumerable awe inspiring churches including the Basilica di San Antonio.

It is a place of learning and is filled with young people who throng the streets going to lectures or perhaps taking an espresso and catching up with friends. When we were there, it was clearly graduation day and students, accompanied by proud parents and friends, wandered about wearing the laurel crown of the graduate.

The central piazza
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Padua is famous for its medical department and its scientific roots go back centuries. Copernicus was a student and Galileo a professor! It served as a catalyst for Renaissance thinking.

With science and medicine having such a strong presence, it is no wonder that the study of the natural world and especially its healing properties was of utmost importance. To further the aim of educating students, they built an exquisite apothecary garden.

The botanical gardens are still flourishing today and are a source of scientific study. While the core of the garden houses medicinal plants, more exotic species have been added since. It provides a welcome retreat from a busy world.

The medical museum in Padua is a wonder also. I only wish that I could have been taught the sciences in such an entertaining and interesting way.

Much of our stay was spent mooching about the gorgeous streets and stopping for coffee. But we devoted a fair amount of time visiting the innumerable stunning churches in the city. All were impressive, but only a few attended by more than half a dozen congregants.

Even the most famous church, The Basilica di San Antonio, was only moderately busy – but unlike other ‘tourist destination’ churches, this was peopled by nuns, pilgrims and those who came to pray. It was exquisitely beautiful with high vaulted ceilings, domes, elegant frescoes, marble marquetry and stonework. It was designed to be awe-inspiring, and it was. I loved the domed ceilings in deep blue scattered with stars, the trompe l’oeil marble scene behind the tomb of Saint Antony, the courtyard gardens outside the main building.

When I gazed at the craftmanship, I though of the hours or even years required to achieve the effects. I thought of the craftsmen toiling day after day in service to something greater than themselves. I thought of the thousands of people who came here looking for solace or hope or acceptance and felt that I was part of a very long chain of humanity.

And I felt that time had come full circle. Pilgrimage was the first form of tourism. Holiday comes from holy day and our leisure and spiritual practice are strangely combined. Whilst fewer of us believe in any formal or traditional way now, it does not mean that we don’t gain from our journeys.

We can be uplifted by a mountain or an exquisite work of art; we can connect with those who came before us and left us such treasures; we can learn so much about ourselves and the world.

My Italian trip has cemented my desire to do more creatively – to do it seriously and with commitment. Travel can be transformative if we allow it to be.

Or it can just be light and fun. Seeing friends and breaking bread (or eating pizza together) is also great. However you find your dolce vita – enjoy.

Me, Lorenzo the waiter and Sarah at the best pizza place in town!
Image: Michael Meier