Strepitoso. Roughly translated as absofuckinglutely sensational. This would be how I'd describe last weekend. One, there was a heatwave. Two, it was the boat party. Three, it was my birthday. Four, we had some lovely visitors and five, I have the best flat-mate/sister/friend in the world!
We woke up bright eyed and bushy tailed, exuding that friday feeling. I might be mistaking that friday feeling or sweat (it was the first day of the heatwave). We lathered ourselves in factor 30 and headed to Venice for the
Festa in Barca, a 12hr
cultural boat trip booze cruise around the Venice lagoon.
Your fluorescent orange wristband entitles you to one of these snazzy plastic cups which you can refill with bright orange alcohol as and when you please. It sounds toxic. It was.
Vats and vats and vats of spritz, sangria and beer.
There's something inherently sophisticated about sailing past St. Marc's square and the Palazzo Ducale whilst sipping spritz, admittedly less so when you remember the cup's made out of plastic.
Chin.
First drop off on the cultural boat trip (ahem!), Burano. You get the feeling Dulux was let loose on this cuter than cute island, no two houses are painted the same.
Second stop on our cultural tour, Torcello. There wasn't so much to see so the French boys got naked and went for a dip (indecent photos not uploaded - my nana's a reader). Deciding we didn't want to see THAT, we went exploring...
...and found a bridge for our customary romantic couple shot. This one's a belter if I may say so myself.
So we all know that I'm a sunset enthusiast but even by my standards this one was spectacular, a real breath-taker. Picture this: (or don't and scroll to the photos) birds soaring, music playing, spritz and sangria flowing and the sun setting over Venice. S.T.R.E.P.I.T.O.S.O!!
As the sun crept away, the music switched from chilled to boom-boom. Real eurotrashpop classics. The deck was rife with Beyonce impressions (guilty), Spaniards shaking their hips in a way that somehow defied gravity, and people from all over the world just generally livin la vida loca. I'm told 1200 litres of alcohol were consumed that day and I have to admit, the journey home is a bit woolly.
The next morning I woke up not quite so bright eyed and bushy tailed and made my way into the kitchen. Only to be surprised with the most impressive birthday breakfast. Complete with my name in candles!
Now I'm not really a dessert kinda girl, but granola, now that's a whole different story. So you can imagine my delight when I feasted my eyes on this granola birthday cake with not one but
two types of granola!!! Heaven.
The real icing on the cake, or pecans in the granola as it were, Soph had tracked down some of my nearest and dearest from across the globe and created this. My heart went all warm and fuzzy and I had an 'it's-my-birthday-and-i'll-cry-if-i-want-to' moment.
Deciding to make the most of the heatwave, I made my way to Prato dalle valle, expecting to return later as a sunkissed goddess. What I wasn't expecting was all my friends sat waiting, laden with a feast of homebaked pastries, pasta salads, tarts and more. Another one of Soph's surprises.
But like Bonnie without Clyde, Romeo without Juliet and hummus without pita, what's a summer picnic without Pimm's? Finding a single bottle of Pimm's in a Prosecco dominated country is nigh on impossible, but an extra special import from Kfez saved the day!
The Pimm's turned out to be an international hit.
As did Anke's apple tart. At least Christophe thought so anyway...
Mission get sunkissed was well underway.
There she is, super sneaky surprise organiser and ultimate babe.
Grazie mille for an absobloodyfuckinglutely strepitoso weekend!!
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