Two People, Fourteen Months, One huge world!

Photos: 16 - UK, UAE

iain_and_tamara — Mon, 26 Dec 2016 15:12:00 GMT

The Final Chapter

The Final Chapter - UK, UAE, NZ

iain_and_tamara — Mon, 26 Dec 2016 15:08:00 GMT

“All good things must come to an end” so they say and it seems that “they” are right!

We had set aside the last month of our trip for family in the UK and had a great time with them, starting with celebrations of my parents’ Golden Wedding Anniversary. As a gift to them we siblings clubbed together to do a fair bit of work on their garden. Tamara and I (and many others) had the role of stripping out the old while my brother and sister (and many others!) had the role of putting back. All with the intention of reducing the area of flowerbeds (and therefore weed magnets) and replacing with low maintenance lawn and gravel.

Before and after!

When all was said and done the garden was largely transformed and the reduced workload it will generate should make life more fun for mum and dad. All in all we took four “tonne bags” of garden waste to the tip and dad bribed a crew of arborists with a cup of tea after which they took a giant pile of branches into their shredder making life much easier for us.

Relaxing at Standen House

Whenever we plan a big trip overseas we seem to plan a big purchase. In S.E. Asia it was curtains for the house and apartment. In the UK it was a kitchen for the bach. Off to Ikea we went and over several days designed and ordered what we trust will be a beautiful, high quality kitchen complete with appliances. While on a roll we also went hunting for worktops, a heated towel rail, washer/dryer and, for good measure, a vanity for Tamara’s brother Brandon. It seems we weren’t the only ones getting carried away as Brandon took a night to think things over then came back with a list to cover the replacement of four bathrooms. “In for a penny, in for a pound” we thought and threw in a bathroom of our own for the bach. Yes, the prices are that good! Our biggest problem was in convincing the plumbing merchants that we were not international money launderers and in getting the relevant paperwork to allow us to claim a VAT refund on export - we only just completed that in time.

It seems that we are all family and business when we are in the UK and that is not far from the truth but we were strong-armed into visiting the odd place too, including Standen House and Gardens which we managed to get to a minute or so before kick-out time! We enjoyed the gardens anyway but the fine interior will have to wait for a later visit.

Last rites

Our last days were spent polishing our little convertible until it shone then negotiating with the trader that sold it to us to re-purchase it – thankfully that was met with success. £500 later we were carless but happy, we then had to arrange an insurance refund. Including insurances and depreciation that funky little car cost us £1000 (NZ$2000) for the whole five months that we had it. We had taken a gamble on it being reliable but this paid off and $13 a day rental was a pretty good deal we feel, particularly for such a sporty wee cabriolet.

If that was a bargain the UAE had something even better in store. Cast your mind back to the moment in France where our accommodation had been disrupted leading to a wonderful night in Provence. As compensation for this indiscretion AirBnB had provided us with a US$200 credit which we were able to leverage for the three nights in Abu Dhabi. We found a fantastic deal for a five star hotel there which had access to the next door Sheraton pool resort and private beach. When the voucher was taken into account the net cost of our stay was €17 (NZ$ 25).

Burj Khalifa

We opted to shun the organised tours to the Burj Khalifa in Dubai (world’s tallest building) and instead took a local bus there passing through the desert and past adverts for some spectacular underwater housing (all sold unfortunately!).

The mall at the base of the Burj is immense and includes an aquarium with a huge window fronting onto the public area in which you can watch sharks, turtles and tropical fish gliding past. When it came to our time-slot we boarded the world’s fastest double-decker lift (10m/s - that is more than two floors per second!) and emerged at the viewing platform high on the 828m high building. ***Travel hack*** There is no time limit at the viewing platform so we avoided the premium sunset prices and instead signed up for the last of the daytime trips then hung around an extra hour to watch the sunset.

Sunset on a great trip

Later we watched the spectacular dancing fountains at the base and visited the Rainforest Café. As we awaited our food to be delivered it dawned on us how blessed we were to spend the last day of such a spectacular trip in such a way. In one day we had crossed a desert, plumbed the depths of the sea, ascended the world’s tallest building to view the sunset then concluded with dinner in a rainforest. So appropriate!

Rainforest Café

Our homecoming was joyous and it was great to be back with family, to be reunited with our daughter Skye and to meet her new boyfriend James. As one chapter closes another begins! That may be it for this trip but rest assured we intend more.

‘Till next time………….!!!

(In the meantime - time for some new shoes! The ones on the left were the only ones I took with me and they were perfect for every occasion. Teva Kimtahs - highly recommended so I bought the same again! Even after all that pounding they have plenty of miles left in them).

France - Part 3 - July

iain_and_tamara — Sun, 27 Nov 2016 09:23:00 GMT

For weeks we had been building toward this challenge, a dash across the entire South of France from Pamplona in Spain through to Nice, virtually on the Italian border with just thirty hours to achieve it using one driver! We were unable to take our usual meandering approach as we were headed to a family reunion in Nice to celebrate the eleventy-first birthday of my Aunt (60½) and my cousin (50½).

We set off early from Pamplona, going against the flow of revellers arriving for the next day of the fiesta, and wound our way up and over several picturesque mountain passes before eventually joining the main highway. We were now into the French holiday months which meant that the roads were very full. I have noted before that the French are very good drivers on the whole (Paris excluded) yet they have one dreadful habit; following incredibly close to the car ahead no matter the speed. We found ourselves in a line of traffic compressed to the point where we could foresee calamity and opted to drop out of that lane and slide back from the pack. Unfortunately our fears came true as ahead of us we watched with alarm as trucks started to fishtail, brake lights lit up the sky and a nose-to-tail chain reaction commenced. Fortunately there was nothing other than bodywork damaged as we saw shaken people emerge unhurt from each of the ten or so cars, several of which would eventually be written off. If we had continued holding our position our travels would have become much more complicated so we are thankful for the sense to act on our “inner voice” which we have learned to trust much more during this trip.

Champagne Moments

With the first 500km under our belt we stopped in Carcassonne for a welcome overnight break. We had visited this fairy tale medieval town previously during the daytime but it was great to spend the evening quietly chilling in its cobbled squares listening to arias from a live performance of La Bohème which wafted through the warm air. A very heavy armed police presence implied that a VIP was attending but we were never to ascertain who except to be assured that it was “pas le président”. The next day we set off incredibly early and soon rattled off the remaining 500km to Nice arriving just in time to join in with a family champagne tasting. Mission accomplished.

Pool Party - Nice

Our next week was spent very pleasantly catching up with my family and so it consisted of a mixture of picnics, pool parties, mountain walks and visits to old towns. One of these towns, Grasse, is the centre of perfume making, not only for covering the bad odours of the well-to-do but also to develop food additives that make us want to buy more processed food! While half of the crew took off to visit the perfumeries I went with one of my young cousins to walk the streets in search of clues for a treasure hunt. France was hosting the European Cup during our stay and to everyone’s delight the national team had made it to the final. We all went to the local town square to watch it and the place was packed with national anthem singing home team supporters all decked out in red, white and blue. One supporter in particular had the lungs of a horse and the singing ability of a bull, putting these two to good use he belted out sole renditions that gained in originality as the game wore on. Even the red flares at half time could not fire up Les Bleus sufficiently though and Portugal were the eventual winners 1:0 – very disappointing for us and crushing for the local fans.

Standing Guard - Fréjus

Once most of the family had headed on their way, including my cousins, Tamara and I were entrusted with the wonderful responsibility of looking after their house for the three weeks that they were away. This was such a blessing to us and so we decided to be a blessing back setting about a top to toe makeover of the place. After several days we were ready for the big reveal but also pretty nervous about the amount of liberties we had taken. Would they be delighted or offended? Makeovers were not all that we got up to during that stay however. We went with my aunt and her son (another cousin – Gabriel whom you may remember from our tour around Northern Greece!) down to the old Roman town of Fréjus. After a good wander around to view the ancient arenas and the Cloitre de la Cathedrale de Frejus we settled down for a bite to eat in the town square. This was Bastille Day and the town was gearing up for a fireworks festival that night so we casually asked the waitress whether she would be going? “Oh no” she replied, “they have been cancelled as it is too windy”. Once we were back at the house I was pretty keen to head down to the fireworks at Nice as planned but my aunt was a bit tired and we reckoned it was about 50:50 whether those would also be cancelled so decided at the last minute to stay in and watch from the balcony – We had only just watched a firework display in Pamplona and Tamara and I would go next week instead. Once the last explosion had died away in the distance we went to bed, blissfully unaware of the carnage that had been brought to that innocent celebration by a terrorist claiming allegiance to Daesh whereby he had driven a truck at speed through the crowd killing 85 innocents and horrifically wounding more than 200, to say nothing of the thousands who’s lives would forever be affected by the carnage they saw. We could so easily have been one of these, especially as we would have been one of the last to arrive so would have been obliged to stand on the promenade where the killings took place.

In the heart of Seborga

Soon after this we took a trip to Northern Italy for one of the quirkiest days of our trip in which we visited a Principality that does not exist and also a town which does not exist! We were made to feel very welcome by the 360 inhabitants of the Principality of Seborga (standing army size – 24) and duly collected our passport from the local souvenir shop. The Seborgan crest was on every letter box and their flag flew proudly from many a flagpole. We have sent a post card from every country we have visited to our nieces in Auckland to assist them with their home education and this would have been one of the more unexpected that they would have received! Until the Italian unification in 1860, the land was a conglomeration of city-states, republics and other independent entities one of which was Seborga. Following Napoleon’s defeat these were all gathered together into the country of Italy – except for the fact that some silly billy omitted Seborga from the list. No-one noticed this omission until the 1960’s when a local historian Giorgio Carbone spotted it and began a successful campaign for recognition. As a reward for his tireless lobbying he was anointed as His Serene Highness Giorgio I, Prince of Seborga, which he held in all due seriousness, ruling under the advisement of a Privy Council, until his death in 2009 whereupon the title passed to his successor Marcello I.

Bussana Vecchia

If that was quirky then nearby Bussana Vecchia would certainly match it. This former ghost town was so severely damaged in 1887; killing more than 2000, that the authorities abandoned it, buying out the owners and re-building further down the valley. The buildings were left to stand and rot but were expunged from any official documents. Again in the 1960s the anomaly was discovered by a group of artists who laid claim to it and allowed others to join them so long as they were also artistic. As we wandered the largely deserted streets we were struck not only by the public art and the galleries but also by the precariousness of the buildings. Following a sign to the visitors centre we found ourselves in a bizarre garden as we tried to orientate ourselves we heard a call from above “come on up, you’re welcome!” so we wound our way up the steps into a strange bar/restaurant/private terrace area where we were offered some wine. “Why not?” we thought but when we tried to pay we were told that everything was free – “it’s my house, do you charge your visitors for a drink?” This was joined by slow spit-roasted pork and home baked bread while we and some other, equally bemused, guests entered into all kinds of spirited discussions with the host. Did we want to stay? No problem. How long for? It’s up to you. How much? Oh come on, I said it was all free. What work would you like us to do? You decide. Are you on drugs? No they are not allowed here. What is your helper up to? Don’t worry about him; he’s always high but harmless. There are a lot of different people out there folks but boy; it makes the world a more interesting place!

High Speed Chase - Monaco

One day we popped down into Nice to board the bus to Monaco (an actual Principality!) It was sobering to view the sea of flowers on the Nice promenade right where we would likely have been standing. The sun was once again shining but the world had changed. To try to make sense of it all we went to the hedonistic millionaires’ playground of Monaco! This must be one of the best value public transport routes of all time with amazing views all along the coast and no need for parking when you arrive. We opted to take a tour around the palace and then wandered the streets before going into the giant aquarium. We had expected to spend a fortune during a day trip to Monaco but looking at super yachts is much cheaper than owning them and taking photographs of the supercars lined up outside the famous casino doesn’t cost anything.

Icecream!

When my cousins returned home we are delighted to say that they were delighted. At the very least we have an offer to look after their house next time they need to go away so it can’t have been all bad! In addition to this we had drawn up some revised kitchen and bathroom plans for them so we look forward to seeing how that turns out too. We still had a week in Nice and were able to go with Anya and Bruno high into the mountains and we also visited Renoir’s house in Cagnes-sur-Mer, rode a bruising banana boat on the Med, visited a sweet factory, bathed in a crisply cool river, missed our sailing trip (drove to the wrong location and sat around waiting before the mistake dawned on us with horror!), took a boat trip around the bays, took a ferry from Cannes to the Île Sainte-Marguerite where we stood in the cell of the man with the iron mask and ordered ice-creams from a floating launch and so many more things. I swore that I would not write an account that consisted of a list of goings on but we would be all night if I expounded on each one. Suffice to say that when we packed up our bags once more for the long trip north we had had a wonderful time in the South of France and had really enjoyed the chance to stop and relax for a bit.

Gorge du Verdun

We dropped the roof of the car and headed north via the very impressive Gorge Du Verdun taking a detour known only to the locals to head around its northern rim. Looking out over the circling eagles was breath-taking and we bumped into a couple of car loads of Kiwis enjoying the same views. “How did you know about this place” they asked, they had a local friend who had helped them. We went one better – we had local family :-)

Classic Provence

One of the dreams I had was to travel through Provence viewing the fields of sunflowers and smelling the lavender. We were cutting it fine however as we were well into the harvest season and for a while all we saw were fields of neatly trimmed green stalks. Eventually we struck gold and spent some time watching and photographing the farmers as they harvested the lavender in the sunshine, a range of mountains in the hazy distance and the fragrance of lavender giving us sensory overload – Heaven! Lunch beside the rushing waters of Fontaine de Vaucluse completed a heavenly day. All that was needed to fulfil the dream was the opportunity to eat copious amounts of food from a communal table under a giant plane tree beside a stone farm house. Sadly our budget did not cover such delights. Happily I had received a call from AirBnB the night before telling me that our accommodation had been cancelled at short notice. Not a problem, we re-booked. During a follow up customer service call we got notice that the replacement accommodation had also cancelled so they gave us the option to book a hotel at their expense and also gave us a credit to use for future bookings. Our selected Provençal hotel was a lovely stone farmhouse with a pool and a giant plane tree beneath which we sat in the morning sunshine sharing copious amounts of food with our fellow guests. God is good!

Pont du Gard

We were now virtually in Avignon with the sole purpose of visiting the Pont Du Gard, one of the surviving sections of the 2000 year old Roman aqueduct serving the city, 48m high and 360m long – but what have the Romans ever done for us……? Not only did we get the chance to wander around this we got to swim under it and walk over it too. One of the most fascinating things was the thickness of lime scale that had built up during the 500 years of its use and which eventually led to its downfall.

Le Puy-en-Velay

From Avignon we continued north passing Le Puy-en-Velay whose stunning volcanic plugs are topped with religious statues and a cathedral which is the starting point of the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. Eventually we arrived at Chateau de Guédelon which is a modern day castle currently being constructed using traditional mediaeval methods. Set up as a not-for-profit trust dedicated to unravelling the mysteries of times past this became rather successful and the founders rather conveniently found a route to transition to a for-profit business of which they are the beneficiaries. Nevertheless it was fascinating to tour the completed areas of the castle and the surrounding village in which the craftsmen and women were honing the stone, burning the lime, hewing the wood etc.

Chateau de Guédelon

The place that we stayed that night was fabulous, shyly hiding from the village square behind tall green shutters yet containing an Aladdin’s cave of antique furniture and mirrors which set off the high ceilings which were ornately decorated with plaster mouldings. During the night I had to negotiate a fairly tortuous route to the bathroom which involved stepping from our bedroom squarely onto an enormous hound. When we had both got over the surprise I padded through the lounge and hall to the bathroom where my nerves recovered a little before moving back out into the pitch dark hall and stepping squarely onto an enormous hound! This family were true hosts, inviting us to join them for dinner and for breakfast even though it was not part of the deal. As we got to discussing the lovely house and the furnishings the man of the house seized a broom and led us down a steep stone staircase into a huge 16^th Century convent cellar above which the house had been built, sweeping aside curtains of cobwebs as he went. A raiders of the lost ark moment which will stay with us forever.

Boat Lift - Strépy-Thieu

Our time in France was nearly over so for a little variety we opted to continue north into Belgium stopping first in Champagne to tour the cellars of the Castellane winery and later at the giant boat lift at Strépy-Thieu which uses a counter-weight principle to lift or lower 1350 tonne boats through a level change of 73m height. Amazing! We arrived just in time to see the last boat of the day exit the lift which was a little bit of a let-down (so to speak!).

Atomium - Brussels

Our final day on the continent was spent in Belgium, first visiting the shiny Atomium in Brussels then wandering around the beautiful canals and admiring the intricate stepped gables of Ghent. All good things must sadly come to an end however and so it was that, clutching our freshly purchased Belgian chocolates, we drove past the “prison camps” of Calais to board the channel ferry. England beckoned.

‘Till next time………….

Photos: 15 - Spain Pt 2 - Running of the bulls

iain_and_tamara — Sat, 29 Oct 2016 11:16:00 GMT

Spain – Part 2 – The Running of the Bulls

iain_and_tamara — Sat, 29 Oct 2016 11:14:00 GMT

For as long as I have known her Tamara has made it clear that visiting Pamplona for the Festival of St. Fermin (aka. “The Running of the Bulls”) was item number one on her bucket list. Ever since it was popularised by Ernest Hemmingway this festival has attracted the adventurous and curious from across the world to chance their arm running ahead of the fighting bulls each morning or simply to watch those prepared to do so.

Andy Warhol - Shadows - Guggenheim Bilbao

We had timed our dash across central France so as to be present in Pamplona on the first day of the Fiesta. France has a similar event held in Béziers but the Spanish were totally dismissive of this “The French are SO boring!” One thing we could not accuse the Spanish of was being boring. Our first couple of Spanish nights were in Bilbao where we got to explore one of my bucket list buildings – Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim gallery – an extraordinary series of spaces contained within free-form metal ribbons and abstract glass. The party atmosphere started to build as soon as we crossed the border from Biarritz and in Bilbao we had several conversations with young people excitedly shopping for clothes for the event while nervously contemplating whether they were likely to get seriously injured in the morning! I have no idea how so many young Kiwis manage to fit this into their OE (Overseas Experience) seeing as it was far and away the most expensive couple of days we indulged in during our time abroad but we were not the only ones there. Far from it in fact as on our arrival in Pamplona the streets and public transport seethed with revellers all dressed in the same manner that we found ourselves attired: White trousers, white tee-shirt or blouse and a red sash around the waist. Around our wrists we had tied a red scarf; awaiting the opportunity to place it ceremoniously around our necks once the festival was officially declared open.

Tapas Time

The traditional place to view the opening ceremony is from the tiny Plaza Consistorial which is so full of drunk foreign revellers that it is actually pretty dangerous. Instead of that we found ourselves in a large bar watching the events on a big screen with a huge and boisterous crowd of locals. The singing, chanting and dancing were up there with any crowd participation event we have ever been in and a good time was had by all! That evening as we enjoyed a pizza there were distant fireworks reflected in the windows facing onto the Plaza Del Castillo while those from the other plaza started to file past, their white clothing now dyed pink with all of the sangria that was liberally sprayed around with all the abandon of a formula one champion!

The Bull Run

Our apartment was right in the centre of town which meant that we didn’t have to get up too early the next morning to get to our selected viewing position for the first daily running of the bulls. It also meant that we could pop in and out throughout the day as we needed to revive and refresh. We had opted to take the coward’s way out and hired a position on a balcony over-looking the run. For the huge sum of money we got to have a very basic breakfast then stand on someone’s balcony for an hour waiting for the bulls to pass by in about ten seconds before slipping inside to watch a replay of the whole run on the TV. It was then made very clear that it was time for us to leave. Easy money for those prepared to share their house for an hour or so with a bunch of strangers! Next time I will run!!

A Town Parties

During the day we took the opportunity to explore the town a little and to walk the course of the run. This is a town set up for the party and throughout the day the streets are routinely jet-washed to remove the stickiness and to corral the litter so that it can be scooped up. While we were relaxing in one restaurant we watched with amusement as a tidal wave of liquid detritus surged through the tables and chairs closest to the road. Fortunately all of those affected were in good spirits and took it in their stride. As we wandered on we turned a corner to come across a group of festive locals dressed up as if in a boat race. No sooner did we join them than their accompanying marching band struck up and we were off, headed toward the bull-fight arena with mock battles between the boats, the music inspiring spontaneous dancers on every street.

The Crowd Goes Wild

We had bought tickets for the evening bull-fight and climbed to our seats high in the stand while the party continued and increased around us. Each of the twenty or so parades had all converged into the arena where the bands took turns to strike up. Eventually the matadors entered together with the mounted picadors to a raucous welcome from the crowd and it was not long until the first bull was released.

The Gladiators Enter

If this was a movie not a narrative the music would change now from the shrill horns of the fiesta band to something much more sonorous. Perhaps we would even indulge in a gloomy filter and fade out the crowd noise. I am now completely off the fence and will decry the Spanish bull fight as animal abuse. The bewildered bull trots in every direction trying to work out what has just happened before he is attracted by a fluttering pink cape on which he vents his frustration. The cape disappears just as another is produced in the corner of his eye ducking now towards this just as the matador disappears behind a wooden shield he tires himself out. At this stage the picadors ride in with their incredibly strong horses and their lances. During this phase there is no hiding from the bull and the horses will be charged and often lifted off their feet by the sharp horns, their hide protected by full body armour, in the meantime the picador drives his lance into the back of the bull. Another phase involves arguably the bravest of the combatants who allow the bull to charge them while running crablike across the arena. As the bull arrives they leap high to the side and plunge two darts into the already streaming back of the bull.

Picador Rising

Finally the star of the show steps forward and the crowd hushes as the matador fights the now exhausted bull one on one trying at every move to show disdain for the danger posed. For one bull the matador might remove his shoes to show some arrogance, another would turn his back on the bull and walk away saluting the crowd. It is impossible not to show some admiration for the courage involved and yet each fight followed the same formula to deliver a weakened bull to the matador who will eventually dispatch it with a sword thrust through the spine causing the bull to fall dying at his feet as blood gushes out. All except for one…….

Disdain!

Several tourists had already left in tears before the third bull arrived in the arena. This one was clearly more spirited and intelligent than the others and was not interested in following protocol. Eventually the preparation team offered him to the matador who proceeded to fight the bull while on his knees. It turns out that this was not a good idea at all as the bull managed to catch him on the third attempt and then proceeded to gore and stamp him while we watched, horrified. Eventually the bull was distracted away and the medical staff set to work to revive the man. After some time he struggled to his feet and, limping heavily signalled that he would continue the fight. He did this and finished with the cleanest kill of the night and the adulation of the crowd. No matter your view on this blood-sport this was one of the bravest things I have ever seen and he was awarded the ears of the bull in recognition.

So – what is our verdict of the overall San Fermin Fiesta experience? The party is unmissable, the bull run a lot of fun, the prices high beyond belief and the bull fight dreadful with no respect offered for these magnificent beasts. If you visit for the fiesta we advise you not to go to the fight itself until such time as Spain adopts the Portuguese non-violent bull fight approach. There has to be a more humane way of preserving millennia old traditions.

Play Fight

On the final night we were sat in the apartment when we heard the firework display start up once more and we decided to haul ourselves out for one last experience as we stood gazing up at the immense star shells bursting above us. Little did we know that the decision to watch these fireworks may well have saved our lives a few days later – but more of that in the next chapter!

‘Till next time………….

France - Part 2 - June

iain_and_tamara — Sun, 23 Oct 2016 07:46:00 GMT

We swept into Paris on a tide of enthusiasm which was equally matched by a flood tide of river waters. During the few days of our visit we watched with bated breath as the River Seine rose higher and higher from the ankles to the waist of the famed Zouave statue beneath the Alma Bridge which locals have always used to measure the severity of a flood. Only twice before (1910 and 1955) have levels exceeded those that we experienced.

Tree Lined Avenues Everywhere - Love Them!

We were fortunate in our timing however as we visited the Louvre at our earliest opportunity to view such classics as the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo as well as the antiquities of the ancient world and the apartments of the Emperor Napoleon which were unexpectedly sumptuous. The next day the museum was closed to the public to allow evacuation of the treasures in the basement to safeguard from the rising flood waters. Our visit to the impressionist treasures of the Musée D’Orsay was even more finely timed as it closed later that same afternoon. Interruptions are what the French are quite good at however and visiting Paris at a time of a national rail strike provided its challenges. We were always able to find a workaround though and in addition to the world famous art and sculptures at the two aforementioned museums we managed to strut our stuff atop the Arc De Triomphe, along the Champs Elysées, and around Notre Dame as well as sampling the bohemian atmosphere of Montmartre, once home to famous artists such as Dalí, Monet and Picasso and home also to the infamous Moulin Rouge cabaret. Nowadays the area is too expensive for genuine artists to afford but is still dominated by the imposing white Basilica of Sacre-Coeur.

France was under a state of emergency for the whole time that we were there and there was security and bag searching at every shop that we went into along the Champs Elysées. Despite that we braved entrance to the odd shop and had quite a surreal experience in the Citroën showroom where we were treated to several floors exploring the next generation of electric cars and a basement where we frolicked in a giant ball pit in search of a winning ball that would set us up for generations to come. We did not find it but managed to persuade a number of equally bemused customers to slip their shoes off and plunge in before relaxing with a morsel from the vintage Citroën snack wagon!

Sainte Chapelle

A gem that is completely unmissable in Paris is Sainte Chapelle. After a short time queueing we passed through an elegant under-croft, climbed a short staircase and stepped forth into a stained glass wonderland which is beautiful beyond belief. The chapel is quite small and it is best to find a good vantage spot from which to survey the gothic interior which is lit with dappled light from the predominantly blue windows which progressively illustrate bible stories. The 13^th century building was built to house Louis IX's collection of relics and is designed to appear weightless with very slender yet richly coloured and decorated support pillars.

If I can take you back to our sojourn on the olive farm in Crete you may recall that we struck up an impromptu friendship there with a Parisian couple who promptly invited us to stay with them when we finally arrived in Paris. We warned them then that we were the type of people who would take up that offer and gave them a chance to withdraw. They were having none of that and so our three nights in Paris were spent in lively conversation topped off by us preparing a traditional NZ meal for them in gratitude. A lovely Kiwi lamb roast was the result with all the trimmings and a bottle of finest sauvignon blanc. Jean-Claude and Eliane were wonderful hosts and took great delight in offering us aperitifs before each meal, selected from a menu of more than 100 liqueurs, and offering us our choice of almost as many cheeses after we had supped.

Douaumont Ossuary

Following our grand plan we continued east through the battlefields of Verdun towards Metz and Nancy. While in the vicinity of Verdun we visited the frontline trenches in a number of places as well as an ossuary in Douaumont which was the final resting place of at least 130,000 unidentified combatants who took part in a year of hell exactly one hundred years before. Over the course of that 300 day battle more than 700,000 people were casualties of which 230,000 died. The reason that so many were identified was the nature of the battle which was essentially an artillery duel with the foot soldiers mere cannon fodder. When one is killed in such a manner there is rarely a body to bury.

Place Stanislas - Nancy

Metz and Nancy by contrast were very lively towns which each date back to medieval times. While Metz may be the more interesting overall Nancy has a crowning delight being Place Stanislas which is considered the most beautiful of all the European royal squares and is a good example of French classicism. The elegant pavilions, majestic fountains and the wrought-iron railings finely decorated with gold leaves have made the city famous. The square was commissioned by the former King of Poland in 1751 to unite the medieval old town with the new town. Today it is home to the town hall, the National Opera and the fine arts museum. We took an afternoon to enjoy the fine arts museum and I was particularly struck by an installation by Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama - “Infinity Mirror Room: Fireflies On The Water”. Built inside a small dark room with mirrors on all sides, the exhibit consists of 150 small lights suspended over a small pool which leaves the viewer with a feeling of being suspended in space.

Infinity Mirror Room - Fireflies On The Water

When travelling for so long basic functions such as haircuts cannot be put off forever and so Tamara had been keeping her eyes open for a suitable salon. The university town of Metz provided the opportunity not just for a top haircut but also for a very entertaining conversation between client and coiffeur in which neither ever got to fully understand the other yet decided to press on anyway. Despite the inherent risk the end result was wonderful and only cost around $20 on production of Tamara’s student identity card. I contented myself with another self-inflicted buzz cut on my return to our accommodation. This time around we were staying with another retired couple in their home in a tiny hamlet attached to a chateau. The lord of the manor is rarely sighted and plays no part in the villagers’ lives now but the other neighbours were very friendly and were forever popping in and out to share drinks, stories and the odd very competitive game of scrabble. I even managed to tell a joke in French which got a good laugh!

Astronomical Clock - Strasbourg

We were very fortunate to be able to track down another good friend from university days, Thomas who is still living in Stüttgart, Germany and so we headed via the canal city of Strasbourg to stay with him for a couple of nights. In Strasbourg cathedral there is an astronomical clock which shows the positions of the sun, planets, stars and moon as well as a perpetual calendar. The main attraction is the procession of the 18 inch high figures of Christ and the Apostles which occurs every day at half past midday while the life-size cock crows thrice. We had timed our visit to coincide with this event including making use of the wonderful park and ride tram system to deliver us to the spot. Unfortunately, when I popped into the tourist information office to secure some tickets Tamara misunderstood my intentions and had wandered off looking for the suddenly vanished me. There followed 15 minutes of frantic searching before she emerged from a full circumnavigation of the huge cathedral. Time waits for no man but by running we managed to be the last to squeeze through the door before the “show” commenced.

Road Trip!

It was very special to be able to spend some time with Thomas and his two sons as they had recently lost their wife and mother Michaela to cancer. I also knew Michaela from my time at uni. and it was very sad to hear of their loss. Our small contribution to that family was to cook up a lovely home cooked meal which they have had few of in the months previous as they try to readjust to a very different life with a very busy working father. Stüttgart is known for its manufacturing and is home to many famous brands not least Mercedes and Porsche. We spent a day at the Mercedes museum which was very interesting covering the whole history of car manufacture from motorised carts to the sleek formula one racers of today. We shelled out a bit more cash for a simulator ride which proved to be a bit of a damp squib really but the rest of the visit was great even if I did have to mop up some of Tamara’s drool from the floor as she surveyed some of her favourite SL models!

For once I had booked up a couple of week’s accommodation in advance but it was clear that Thomas was hoping that we could stay for one more night so we quickly reshuffled the calendar to allow the extension. Our final night was spent at an old-school disco in a huge old warehouse. It was hilarious but also quite comforting in a way. It was as if we had stepped out of the nightclub when we were 20 and then stepped back in a quarter of a century later to find exactly the same people dancing in the same way to the same songs. No wierdos; just kids who got older – just like us!

Natzweiler-Struthof Concentration Camp

After Germany we crossed back to France and stayed in the Alsace Lorraine area which has some lovely hills and some even lovelier half-timbered medieval villages. We were not staying in such a place; instead I had found an apartment in a dusty old mining town called Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines located high in the mountains. Journeying up to this town we stopped firstly at Natzweiler-Struthof, the only WWII concentration camp to have been located in present day France. I say present day as it is very obvious that the area has a very strong Germanic flavour to it and it has been occupied by one or other of the countries off and on over the centuries. At the time of the war it was administered as a part of Germany rather than occupied France. The concentration camp had a small gas chamber which was so amateurish that it seemed even sicker than the “commercial” one that I had previously seen in Auschwitz. Here the commander shut them in, looked through the window then poured some chemicals in a drain outlet which mixed together to form a deadly gas. He would watch until there was no further movement then disengage the chemicals. Some 55,000 prisoners of the Nazis were held here, mostly from the resistance movements; 40% of these died from overwork and undernourishment while at the camp and these were cremated on-site so it was a very sombre visit.

Fête Des Remparts - Jousting

While we were in Sainte-Marie-aux-Mines it absolutely poured down for days which rather cast a dampener on our plans for walks with a view. We had timed our visit to coincide with a mediaeval Fête Des Remparts in the nearby village of Châtenois however and we were very blessed that the rain stopped for a few hours to allow us to enjoy all that that had to offer. This fête was set on and around the ramparts of a double walled medieval keep and a very substantial proportion of all attending were dressed in authentic clothing and were role playing very effectively. At every step there was another encounter whether it be with a dance troupe, witch trial, burning at the stake, blacksmith with bellows and furnace, entertainer or food hawker. The centrepiece was a display of jousting in front of the “King” and his family whereby the horses would thunder along in the grassy moat overlooked by the appreciative crowd all sitting carefully on the soggy ground. There were over 500 costumed actors and as the town was so preserved, it was very much as if we had been transported back five centuries at times.

Chocolate Box Villages

We now had a very long journey to get to the alps so decided to break it up with a couple of stops, first in Colmar, and then overnight in Besançon. Colmar is a completely chocolate box town with brightly coloured half-timbered medieval buildings clustered around a rushing river and sedate canals. I was tempted by a street vendor selling artisan sausages and bought a particularly nice mulberry sausage which had a very distinctive taste never before experienced. Besançon by contrast is a much larger university town which has been continuously occupied since 1500BC when a group of wandering Gauls decided to set up camp in the oxbow of the river. The town is very strategically located and has been fought over and conquered many times, it is now dominated by a giant citadel. The lady we were staying with there was quite a character. She hails originally from Brittany and learnt to sail at an early age before spending a large part of her life sailing the oceans professionally for people rich enough to own a yacht and smart enough to realise that they don’t know how to sail! Now she is a teacher and rents a room to meet people. The room is super cheap but really good and perfectly located to explore the town centre. When asked why she doesn’t ask more she replies that if she charges more then people expect more and consequently complain more. We were happy sitting watching the European cup with her smoking like a chimney beside us so I guess it works. We walked up to the citadel which is now a rather original zoo with apes in the moat and all kinds of other animals tucked away in the oddest nooks and crannies.

Les Alpes - Domancy Panorama

My tour of old Uni. friends was not yet complete. We based ourselves in the French Alps close to Mont Blanc and were delighted to be able to catch up with another friend Yves and his girlfriend. They drove up from Geneva to spend the day with us which included a wander around the emerald lake complete with petrified logs and a view over the valley which was to die for. From this point we were able to watch paragliders enthusiastically hurl themselves toward the valley floor looking to take as long as possible to reach it. Yves was not the only one to journey up from Geneva to link up with us; we were delighted that my parents were again able to join us on our adventure for a few days and we took the opportunity to ascend the Aguille de Midi cable car from Chamonix 3777m up the slopes of Mont Blanc. It was fascinating to watch as climbers came and went, nonchalantly crossing the line between safety and adventure.

Mum Ready For Adventure

Seizing the opportunity as one group passed we were able to get my mum fully equipped with climbing rope, helmet and gear ready for a photo call but it was not long before we four also set off into the icy wastes. We had opted for a far more sensible mode of transport via the Vallée Blanche cable car which took 30minutes gliding over the glaciers to reach a peak in Italy. (This is the same cable car in which 30 people were trapped overnight that same September – having experienced the cars and the fierce cold I do not envy those passengers their experience!).

Vallée Blanche Cable Car

At Aguile de Midi there is an opportunity for the intrepid traveller to step into a glass box suspended over a 1000m precipice. We needed no second invitation and soon found ourselves floating in space held aloft only by a pair of magical felt slippers.

Step Into The Void

We couldn’t be so close to Switzerland and not partake in a fondue and La Crèmerie du Glacier offered us that opportunity. A short but delightful walk through the forest brought us to this crèmerie which was just opening for the season. As we have previously noted we had not had the best of luck with the weather but our days with my parents turned out absolutely gloriously and we were able to enjoy the mountains, rivers and forests in pure sunlight.

Caverne du Pont d'Arc

When we had been planning our trip through France we had expected to be racing across the “boring” central portion down to the south west and Biarritz. “Not so” our Metz hosts had told us, “that is one of our favourite parts of the country” and so we had hastily rearranged our thoughts, shortening our time in the Alps so as to allow for more leisure time while crossing the Ardèche region. We are so glad that we did as this area is now one of our favourites too. Exploring the Caverne du Pont d’Arc where the earliest cave paintings were discovered was a very surreal experience. These paintings were not indistinguishable scribble but contained shading, toning and very realistic images of the animals that surrounded the artists 31,000 years ago. A landslide that sealed the opening to the cave also had the effect of preserving the cave until its discovery in 1984. The cave itself is once again hermetically sealed but has been recreated in stunningly realistic detail so that we are able to experience it.

Pont d'Arc

From these caves it was only a very short trip to reach the Pont D’Arc itself. We were not the only ones to have discovered this impressive natural stone arch and we joined the many kayakers and swimmers splashing about in the Ardèche River which flows gracefully through a gorge before passing under the spectacular arch.

Kayaking - Gorge du Tarn

We were staying first with a stonemason in the home that he had painstakingly renovated high in the hills. This family were so welcoming and we quickly pooled our food resources to put together a sumptuous feast on our first night. After a couple of nights with them we headed further west to a hotel in the Cevennes region located at the entrance to the magnificent Gorge du Tarn. Determined to experience this gorge from the water itself we hired kayaks and propelled ourselves 20 odd kilometres from the Moulin de la Malène to Les Vignes thankfully hopping out just before the sign reading “Danger of Death”! In this gorge beauty awaits around every bend and it was such a pleasant day working together to gauge each rapid and formulate a sensible plan to pass through in an upright position.

Millau Viaduct

The aptly named Hotel Paradis where we were staying had a meal plan which was the highlight of every reviewer’s commentary. Each night we were served a different four course meal with several alternative options and a lovely bottle of full bodied red wine for €15 each. Our only problem seemed to be in finishing everything! What with the kayaking and walking in the hills behind the hotel we did our best to exercise away the calories but it was a struggle that was being lost by the waistline. Eventually we tore ourselves away and followed the flow of the Tarn River down past the Millau Viaduct, which soars effortlessly above on the tallest pylons in the world, to the pungent caves of Roquefort where we were able to sample some exquisite blue veined cheeses.

Biarritz

From there we bed hopped across the country until we reached to the west coast once more where we explored the legendary surf capital of Biarritz. Along the way we had followed an ant trail of caravans and motorhomes which made it clear that we were heading into the French holiday months. That didn’t matter – Spain was once again beckoning.

‘Till next time………….

Photos: 14 - France

iain_and_tamara — Thu, 7 Jul 2016 03:36:00 GMT

France - Part 1 - May

iain_and_tamara — Wed, 1 Jun 2016 03:22:00 GMT

This is where it all started. Shortly after completing my school years I read Peter Mayall's famous book "A Year In Provence" and since that point have always wanted to spend a year in France, it would undoubtably be as full of crazy locals, obscure rules, endless sunshine, amazing food and wonderful sites as covered in the story. To this end I have maintained my schoolboy French at as high a standard as I could with the hope of eventually visiting for a decent length of time. It is interesting how little of France I had seen prior to this trip considering that it was the closest country to mine for such a large part of my life.

We arrived to petrol blockades, train strikes and continuously bad weather!

Tamara took a little more persuading - "What are we going to do there for a whole year?" Our initial thoughts on this were to follow the example of the Mayalls and buy a renovation project in the sun filled south and spend the year turning it into a wonderful des res for either re-sale or retention as a rental property / holiday home. Our internet search took us to a number of locations including one or two very attractive possibilities. Ironically though the property that we came closest to making an offer for was just over the border in Spain (refer our chapter on Spain for more details). Eventually my brother talked me out of it on the basis that if it's that cheap to buy how cheap is it to rent? Eventually Tamara negotiated me down to three months in France and that is where we are now, one month in.

We plan to follow a giant zig-zag through the country, starting as my Grandad did on the beaches of Normandy then winding through Brittany, the Valley de Loire, up to Paris and around the north east of the country before heading into Les Alpes. From there we intend to swing back across the Massif Central to Biarritz before crossing briefly into northern Spain then zipping quickly across the south of France to Nice for a family party. From there we will explore a bit of northern Italy before making a beeline from south to north and crossing back via the channel ferries. If we are able to get sufficient petrol of course!

Retro Vintage Carousels Abound

It was a joy to finally get to use the funky wee car that we bought especially for the French section of the journey and it happily sped us on our way to Portsmouth from where we were able to take a ferry directly to Caen in Normandy. We arrived at sunset and looked over the very smooth sea to the beaches that were anything but peaceful when my Grandad spent so many days there on an LST (Landing Ship Tank) acting as a sick berth orderlie. In those terrible days his role was to triage the casualties and treat / stack them accordingly. While we were in the locality we took time out to visit Luc-Sur-Mer Beach where he was based as part of the British "Sword" beach. We were able to read aloud his memoirs of the war while there and it was great to spend some time in reflection. Just up the road from us was Pegasus Bridge which was the first target for the allied paratroops as it was so important to the initial advance from the beach head. Here six gliders were piloted incredibly accurately in the dead of the night to land very close to the bridge itself. The mission was successful and the bridge was soon in allied hands.

Just up the coast from Caen is the lovely port town of Honfleur. We have set ourselves the goal of avoiding the major roads as often as possible and so we meandered our way up the coast through many a small town. One that grabbed the attention completely was Houlgate where every house seemed to be a mansion. Each residence towered above the street and was embellished with turrets, elaborate gables, carved stonework and all manner of completely unnecessary and yet totally captivating embellishments. Honfleur itself was a lovely old town centred around an ancient inner harbour. We spent some time wandering the streets and enjoying coffee and later dinner on the harbour front. From the shelter of the restaurant we were able to watch a very impressive thunderstorm sweep through lashing the seven story high medieval buildings even as the late evening sun tried to illuminate the place too.

Café chic with swing chairs at bar - St. Malo

We drove west along the battlefield beaches towards Bayeaux where we were fortunate to be able to view the famous Bayeaux Tapestry. I had wanted to do this many years ago while at school but never got the opportunity. Perhaps this is for the good as the experience now includes an audio guide which takes you through the story told by the medieval comic strip in great detail, scene by scene. Undoubtably this brings the whole experience to life. It is always easier to trace one's lineage if one can link in with that of a famous person or persons and some time ago my father and I were able to do this with the Furneaux family tree which then takes us speedily back to just before the Norman conquest of England in 1066 which is of course the subject of the tapestry. It was strange to view the respect that the locals had for one of my ancestors leaving Normandy to invade Britain and at the same time view the respect they showed for another of my ancestors returning from Britain to invade (liberate!) Normandy 900 years later!

The end of that day saw us arrive at Mont St. Michel. Until this point we had been subject to very poor weather and this location was no different! Nevertheless our visit was intriguing walking on streets little changed for hundreds of years. It was interesting to see a sequence of models showing the construction of the village and abbeye over the first few centuries. Built first then destroyed then rebuilt with donations from the army that destroyed it - a little bit of a guilt trip there methinks! When we entered the abbeye itself it was at the start of a communion service which we stayed around for. It was lovely to see the building alive and active even after all these years.

Beautiful Lehon

I had visited Brittany before and enjoyed my time there so we allocated a week and a half to explore it fully. After a couple of nights in the lovely town of Dinan we then based right in the centre of Brittany from where it was one hour's drive in every direction until we came to the coast. Each of the places we stayed were booked via AirBnB and the hosts spoke very little English which was great for our language development. Before long we were able to chat in French for reasonable conversations, helped on the first night by the Eurovision song contest and an irrepresible hostess who just kept chatting away. She was recently retired and uses AirBnB both to supplement her pension and to ensure human contact. Dinan itself is a town full of half timbered houses largely untouched by the wartime destruction. We contented ourselves with a Gallete each (a savoury pancake made with water not milk). Mine was filled with canard and escargot butter (duck with snail butter) and went down a treat. We took a walk down to the small river port and followed the river along to another abbeye and tumbledown chateau which are located in Lehon, one of Brittany's villages of significant beauty.

Fortunately we had timed our visit to coincide with the Fete de Brittanie which meant that for the time we were in the area there were a number of festivals to choose from. We went up to Saint Malo which was rebuilt entirely after the war in its original unique style which was more defined by the needs of the buccaneers it housed (walls and warehouses) than by the more common housing types at that time. From there we drove up to Cancale to join in with the seafood festival even though Tamara has recently abstained from shellfish. Reluctant to try a dozen oysters myself I managed to negotiate a price just for one but ended up with two. I have to say, previously I have hated the taste of oysters but with a dash of lemon these ones tasted great. Combined with the seafood dish that I ordered in Honfleur these were a great advertisment for the seafood of the region. Delicious!

Gorgeous Chocolate!

When you meet up with an old university friend after so many years it is always with a mixture of delightful anticipation and a little trepidation; wondering whether the friendship will still be relevant or awkward. I had managed to get in contact with one such friend Catherine who is a native of Brittany and now lives in Morlaix. When we walked towards each other it was the first time apart from a couple of weddings that we had seen each other in almost thirty years. "I'm sorry, I must cry a little" she said as we had a lovely hug. Later she and her partner Robert treated us to a lovely meal out. Her generosity was amazing. We had originally asked whether there was a spare room at their home or space to pitch a tent. In the end we had heard nothing so had booked our own accommodation and sent her an update - which she had not received. She had neither space available so had booked a local hotel at her own expense. When she heard that I liked chocolates she immediately dashed out and returned with a gorgeous box of homemade chocolates. Although we no longer needed the hotel room and she was able to cancel at the last minute such generosity of spirit is hard to match.

We alternated our Brittany visits between longer drives to the coast and shorter stays in the local, central area. The Canal Du Midi flows past nearby to the homestay and we had a good wander around there and at a hydro lake the Lac de Guerledan which forms part of that system. At the foot of that dam were a few lovely but delapidated buildings which completely fitted with what we had considered renovating during our "year" in France. They looked out over the river and the canal and for once we were blessed with a bit of fleeting sunshine which revealed what could have been. Being close to the base of a dam though is perhaps not the most sensible location for a house though so maybe things worked out just fine!

Moulin De Marin - Ile de Brehat

On one of our coastal trips we popped over to the Isle de Bréhat. This is located on the pink granite coastline of Northern Brittany and our ferry had to thread its way through multiple needle shaped rocks both covered and visible dependant on the tides. There were three wharfs at either end of the journey. At low tide, when we arrived, we had to walk around half a kilometre from the wharf whereas at high tide, when we returned, we were able to use the wharf immediately adjacent to the village. The reason we were visiting the Isle de Brémhat is because it is the site of a Moulin de Mer (Sea Mill) which is used to grind flour. Due to the high tidal differences a low barrage has been formed which is filled at high tide but which then traps the sea water to form a lagoon once the tide retreats. The difference in height between the two water bodies creates a "head" which can be harnessed for energy and so a sluice gate is opened and the water runs out turning a water wheel and grinding the wheat. Very clever thinking and dating back to the 16th century. All across the island were small groups of children on a school trip. They had been set challenges to solve including one where one of the teachers dressed as a Pirate was signalling a message via semaphore which they had to read and interpret from the other side of the lagoon. I'm convinced that when these things are well planned children learn more on these days than they would in a week in the classroom.

Dinan Port

There was so much more in Brittany, from the boulder strewn Gorges du Toulgoulic, where the river is entirely concealed beneath round lichen covered rocks the size of a lorry, to the lakeside town of Huelgoat; from the expansive view from the Chapelle St. Michel set high on a mountaintop overlooking a lake and nuclear power station to the view from the rocky southern coastline towards Belle Isle. It was time to move on though and the Châteaux of the Loire Valley beckoned.

The first château we had picked out was a particularly warlike looking one in Angers. Constructed mainly using very dark black stone highlighted by white bands this one was impressive to look at but even more so for what it contains. The Tenture De L'apocalypse is an immense tapestry created to illustrate the revelation of St. John. It is utterly fascinating and, together with the further illumination brought by the audio guide, is something that I would highly recommend to anyone visiting. Not quite as old as the Bayeaux "tapestry" this one is at least a real tapestry as opposed to the Bayeaux version which is more of a medieval embroidery. The sheer skill of the 14th century weavers to set up their looms so as to produce these works of art in absolutely beyond me. At 104m long it took just eight years to produce which is far quicker than could be achieved these days using traditional methods. One thing I learned which I felt like I should have already known is that the word "apocalypse" does not mean "end of the world" or "final battle", instead it means "revelation". Your fascinating fact for the day! You're welcome :-)

Villandry

photo credit to Villandry themselves, we didn't have blue skies!

Knowing that we would be visiting the legendary Versailles Palace gardens later in our trip it was a toss up whether we went to the château at Villandry which is also based around a formal garden. We are so glad that we decided to go as the Villandry gardens knock Versailles into a cocked hat! The Villandry story is a typical brilliant (poor) Spanish boy scientist meets brilliant (fabulously rich) American girl scientist / heiress. They fall in love, get married, decide with all that money they are wasted dedicating their life to the sciences and instead buy an ancient and run down château and set about spending a good portion of the inherited steel fortune recreating the original gardens then opening them to the public. The result is a great success and the visit was one of the most rewarding of all of our visits.

Other châteaux that we visited came in all shapes and sizes from the relatively unknown Château Rivau and Château d'Azay-le-Rideau to better known châteaux Longais and d'Ussé. One of the big benefits of staying in homestays is that the locals know their area far better than any guidebook and we were duly advised about the Loire Valley by our lovely host Robert who is struggling to keep looking after his daughter after his wife was hospitalised with major mental issues. He provides all meals from his own garden with home made everything. His daughter is an absolute treasure and he is doing an amazing job but carries an undercurrent of sadness which is desperately sad to see.

Of course we had also planned our time to take in the two heavyweights in the Loire, Chambord and Chernonceau. You will remember the time we spent with our Kiwi friends Allan and Lisa up in Whangarei Heads. We knew that they were visiting Europe at the time and contacted them to see whether it would be possible to link up. What are the chances? They had booked to visit Château Chambord on exactly the same day that we were to be there! With a bit of tweaking of our accommodation plans we were able to spend three days in their company which was most excellent! One place that we loved visiting together was Château du Clos Lucé in Amboise. This is another tale of a great friendship. This time between King Francis 1st of France and the aging Leonardo Da Vinci. In very much the same way as King Solomon sought wisdom, Francis invited Da Vinci to join him in France, promising to care for him throughout his old age and in the meantime absorbing as much of his knowlege and wisdom as possible. He appointed Leonardo as "First painter, architect and mechanic of the king" and put him up in Clos Lucé where he often spent time with him. Frances really was the first of the selfie generation and portraits of him abound in most of the châteaux that we visited. One of the most famous is Leonardo's death bed scene where the king clutches the old man to his bosum in a very tender embrace. Throughout Clos Lucé and its gardens are exhibitions of Leonardo's inventions and it is fairly true to say that in his world he was pretty much the best at pretty much everything. His biggest regret was not concentrating more on the arts but his scientific conceptualisation was so advanced that it forms the basis of a huge amount of our current mechanisation. Tanks, machine guns, the first car, bicycles, helicopter, water pumps, canal locks, cam shafts, gears, ball bearings and many many more inventions are shown in model form. What a chap!

Chatres Cathedral Renovation - before and after.

Until this point we had not been particularly blessed with the weather with heavily overcast days and rain every day of our visit. This was about to change - for the worse! Now the heavens opened and we found when we arrived in Versailes that the very next day the road we had followed was impassable and there was extensive flooding. We were only in Versailles for two nights and so the show had to go on. On our main day we duly walked to the palace to find absolutely no queues. Versailles is known for its queues which snake back and forth across the parade ground so to walk straight in was quite something. Inside it was incredibly packed even so, so I would hate to think what it is like on a busy day. Well the interior of the palace certainly lived up to the hype but the gardens were not available to visit without substantial extra payment due to there being music piped throughout. This did not appeal, articularly in the torrential rain so we returned the next morning for a quick walk through. We shouldn't have bothered. The gardens were very tired and full of weeds, the hedges all needed a trim and the paths were potholed and puddled. A major let-down, particularly when compared to some of the wonderful gardens we had seen.

And so it was that Paris beckoned. But more of that later.......

Until next time.....

Photos: 13 Venice

iain_and_tamara — Sun, 8 May 2016 17:23:00 GMT

Venice

iain_and_tamara — Sun, 8 May 2016 17:17:00 GMT

Our experience of arriving at Venice Station with the Venice-Simplon Orient Express was like a scene from a movie. It is unfortunate that we were in a public bus driving alongside as it glided across the causeway rather than riding aboard but you can't have everything!

We had been forced to delay our trip across the English Channel for a further five days as we are only allowed to drive our car abroad for 90 days at a time and so we decided to seize the day and fly over to North Eastern Italy to visit the beautiful city of Venice with my sister Fiona and our four year old niece Sienna. Tamara and I have previously visited Venice together but this was on a cold and windy February morning and Tamara was left with few good memories. My mission this time was to win her over to my love of the city. Game on!

Before committing to our travels we checked the weather forecast for the week and they proved to be entirely accurate, right down to the thunderstorm timed to coincide with our arrival which resulted in the plane bucking and diving in the wildest ride I have experienced, at times drawing shrieks from the passengers. I think we managed to avoid Sienna being scarred for life by overcoming our inward feelings to pretend we were on a really fun roller coaster. Afterwards when asked whether it was fun on the rollercoaster she thought about it and then declared "it was a little bit fun, and a little bit not fun"!

Grand Canal View Towards Rialto Bridge

The remainder of our time was wall-to-wall sunshine and our enjoyment of the moment matched this as we spent our time mooching along narrow laneways, savouring gelatos and exploring canals large and small. Everywhere we looked the waterways teemed with life, water buses, gondolas, water taxis, delivery craft and private vessels all vying with each other for the available space; all displaying far more patience and consideration than any Italian road drivers I have experienced. The high bridges offered great vantage points to observe the show being played out below. It is hard to believe sometimes that this is real life and not a performance especially prepared for we tourists and to consider that the same thing has been going on every day and night for centuries. And yet it has. The world is full of fascinating places and lifestyles and this was just one more fabulous place that we have had the privilege of experiencing over the past year.

The girls signed up for a Jewish Ghetto tour while I stayed in a plaza watching the bags and reading in the shade of a tree. Perfection! Apparently the word "ghetto" stems from an Italian word and Venice was the first city in the world to create one, enforcing a night time curfew for Jews to withdraw into a defined area whereby the gates were locked shut (openable only with a bit of cash!). This had the effect of concentrating Jews together which appears to have strengthened their culture and resulted in several synagogues in a small area which can now be visited in a 40 minute tour from the Jewish Museum.

Super Stars in St. Mark's Square

A visit to St. Mark's Square is essential but, having sat down at one of the restaurants and received the menu, we quickly came to the conclusion that a coffee at €14 was not. Instead we wandered to the middle of the square and practiced star jumps with Sienna, achieving the perfect jump after only three attempts!

Coffee is not the only thing in Venice that is expensive beyond belief - try renting an apartment or hotel room! Our initial thoughts were to base inside the city for each of the three nights that we were there but this would have cost in excess of €600 even when pursuing the cheaper AirBnB option. In the end we had a bright idea to spend our first and last nights at a campsite just on the land side of the causeway. Our first introduction to glamping whereby you sleep in proper beds in permanent tents, no need to take bedding - all for €20 euros per couple per night. Nice. When we arrived Fiona opted to take an upgrade option for another €6 and spent the night in a little hut (or hutch according to Sienna) with power, light and heating. After a fairly chilly night Tamara and I opted for a similar upgrade for our last night. The campsite is just 15 minutes from the airport by bus and 10 minutes to Venice in the other direction. On balance, although the house we rented was fine next time we would forego this and base at the campsite pocketing the €160 difference.

Last time we went to Venice we didn't have tuppence to rub together and so watched the gondolas glide by folornly. This time we were determined to go on a gondola no matter what the cost and were delighted to see that prices have now been standardised and appeared better value than fifteen years ago! We were happy that our short voyage did not disappoint as we explored both the Grand Canal and several minor canals to the echo of a tenor accompanied by an accordion for a part of the trip.

Santa Maria Della Salute

On our second full day in the city we made the most of our 48 hour transport pass with rides over to Santa Maria Della Salute, up the canal, across to the island of Murano and back to the station area. The water buses are busier now than ever but the delights that they take you to are undiminished in their beauty. Watching the glass blowers at work at their furnaces is always a fascination and doubly so when you have a four year old with you. Some of the light fittings in the myriad of shops on Murano are incredibly stylish, others incredibly gaudy. It all depends on your sense of taste I suppose. There were certainly several pieces that I would have welcomed into my home if I had the inclination to part with the thousands of euros requested.

All good things must come to an end I'm afraid and so it was that we headed back to the airport for a blessedly smooth flight back to England where we were delighted to find that the excellent weather was also present. We needed no further persuasion to lower the roof on the new car and take a meandering route back via the back roads of Surrey and Kent enjoying the warmth of the sun, the new leaves on the trees, the scent of the flowers and the sound of the birds.

Until next time.....

Photos: 12 Israel

iain_and_tamara — Sat, 30 Apr 2016 04:28:00 GMT

Israel

iain_and_tamara — Sat, 30 Apr 2016 04:10:00 GMT

I'll be honest. I didn't really want to go to Israel as I have already been twice before, once with Tamara, and felt like I had already seen pretty much everything that I wanted to see there. Don't get me wrong, it is a fascinating country and I have enjoyed my previous visits but there are so many places to see in the world I wanted to avoid repetition. Nonetheless Tamara is a pretty persistent person, our issues with the car insurance had provided a two week opportunity and we were already just next door in Cyprus so it was pretty hard to avoid!

Our resolve for this visit was to break from the norm which is to sign up to a tour group and visit a host of religious sites walking in the footsteps of Jesus and the diciples etc. while never really meeting with local Israelis. On previous visits we had already visited the "genuine and original" upper room, birthplace of Jesus, garden tomb etc. This time the visit was about exploring the land itself and meeting people.

Guess which one was ours!

We got off to a bad start as it took us almost two and a half hours to pick up our rental car from the airport but finally we were on the road to Haifa. It didn't take long for us to realise that, although they are "the chosen people" the Jews were not chosen for their driving ability or patience! Undertaking, overtaking in crazy situations and tailgating abound. It is nothing we haven't seen elsewhere but somehow when transposed to a modern road system and high speeds the effect seems magnified. We finally arrived just shy of midnight and were delighted to be welcomed - not by the landlord but by the occupant of the neighbouring apartment who did his best to make sure that we were entirely at home even down to providing us with some water, milk and other consumables from his own supplies.

Haifa is the adopted home of the Bahai faith. Although I struggle to see how anyone would follow that path through life it is certainly true that they have created a wonderful garden which flows down a steep hillside in near perfect symmetry, even allowing for the fact that there is a road passing right through the middle by bridging over that road and continuing the gardens and water features directly over the top. A team of 100 gardeners / volunteers work on these gardens all year around and the results are a credit to their efforts.

I said Mt. Carmel!

The Bahai gardens are located on Mt. Carmel, the mountain where the prophet Elijah called down fire from heaven to consume his sacrifice after the prophets of Baal were unable to do so. There followed a rout of those prophets and a restoration of Israel to God. We popped up to the summit where this action is duly noted and, after enjoying the spectacular view over the plains of Armageddon our attention was drawn to a large group of mostly black French Christians who were singing together with the greatest enthusiasm. We joined them for a while before eventually walking away. At the gate one of their number who had chased after us got chatting and we went back and hung out with them for a little longer listening and chatting in French.

Mt. Carmel is also the location of an assembly of Messianic Jews (Jews that have accepted Jesus as their Messiah). The Saturday church service was very lively and interesting. Although it was primarily in Hebrew everything was translated into English and through the use of headsets other languages such as Russian were available. I must say that in the whole of our time in Israel we viewed an incredible tolerance of different religions and denominations and freedom for them to meet and worship together or to dress as appropriate to their customs. This was quite different to our experience in Morocco which, although it is one of the more moderate muslim countries is not at all tolerant towards the Christians in its midst.

A Peaceful Bush Walk

Later we moved further down Mt. Carmel into the middle of the national park, an area I had identified as good for a wee bush walk. Not far into the walk we were passed by a car full of youths bumping down the track with their music turned up yelling "party"! 20 metres further along an arm stuck through the window and dumped an empty crate of beers into the already completely littered national park. As we walked on further the sounds of a large sound system grew until we found ourselves at a rave in the middle of nowhere. We hung around there for a bit and it was fascinating how dancing has changed over the years. It seems dancing together (or even round the dreaded handbags) does not happen anymore, instead it resembled more a glorified exercise class with all participants dancing on their own facing towards the energetic DJs. This was the kind of "inside" Israel we were hoping to encounter!

Exciting Discoveries

Litter is a real problem throughout the third world. Israel likes to think of itself as akin to a European country but it has a long way to go I'm afraid. The rubbish dumped in the national park was just one pixel in a very messy picture showing a lack of care for their country and the natural environment. The next day we were in Caesarea alongside a centuries old Roman aquaduct which runs alongside the Mediterranean beach. Unfortunately there also was heaps of rubbish strewn around, conveniently ignoring the plentiful bins that are provided. It was not all rubbish in Caesarea though - We walked a little used back path along the coast from the aquaduct to the old city of Caesarea. Along that path there were a number of ruins and then Tamara noticed that she had kicked away some dust exposing an area of old mosaic. We quickly set to with a makeshift brush to expose more which was fun but a little further along the path that experience was put into the shade by a further discovery, this time a much larger mosaic which had already been partially exposed but there was much more buried under ground. Tamara and I were able to break away the rock hard ground to expose more of the mosaic which had been unseen for centuries. It was hard work but even for me it was really exciting. Imagine how Tamara felt having always been fascinated by the stuff of antiquity to the point where she seriously considered becoming an archaeologist earlier in her life!

Dangerous Curves!

Later it was cool for me to be sitting on the dockside where Paul would have sat before commencing on his missionary journeys. The reason we went to Haifa first was in accordance with our intention to travel around the north of the country clockwise ending in Jerusalem for the passover then shooting down to the Red sea for some snorkelling and relaxation at the end of the Israeli leg of our journey. Passover is not just a really important feast for the Jews though, it is also an incredible problem for any visitor to the country. Not only are a large portion of foodstuffs unavailable for sale throughout the country, that is the least of the problems. The big issue is that the whole population goes on holiday at the same time leading to drastically inflated prices (20 times normal prices in popular areas) and incredible conjestion on the roads. Our advice having lived through it is to avoid passover week like the plague if you are planning to visit Israel!

Due to the unavailability of accommodation in Eilat at the end of our trip we changed our plan drastically and headed back south first, travelling the length of the country to the southern shores in one day, just stopping to enjoy the expansive desert views from a walk along the crater rim at Mitzpa Ramon. On the way through the desert we passed numerous military training facilities including a large tank training site complete with many active armoured units carrying out live fire exercises.

Gunboat Protectors

Eilat is a very ordinary town in an extraodinary location. We were fortunate enough to have found a room in a luxury villa with a gorgeous pool and we were well advised by the owners (a dive school) as to the best locations to snorkel. One of these locations was reached from a beach immediately adjacent to the border with Egypt. Sitting on that beach we looked across to Jordan and further to Saudi Arabia with Egypt 100m to our right. This might seem like a hotspot for more than one reason but it is indeed Israel's most stable of borders. Nonetheless with specific threats against tourists in Eilat and the terrible events that have taken places on the beaches of Tunisia, Egypt and elsewhere we were very grateful for the reassuring presence of a gunboat moored at the ready a few hundred metres offshore.

Beach Friends

Our first experience stepping onto the beach which was unexpectedly crammed with tents housing Israeli holidaymakers was to tentatively ask the nearest lady where the best snorkelling spot was. It turned out that from all those hoards we had picked out a lover of New Zealand who had spent a year living and working with a family there and for whom it will always have a very special place in her heart! We chatted for ages and shared that family's matting, seats etc. pausing now and again to slip on the snorkel gear (provided by our dive school hosts for free) and have a swim. Eilat is such a wonderful place to snorkel with huge amounts of tropical fish and a decent amount of coral. The shoreline is roped off so that access to the water is only through defined routes so as to protect the coral from damage. 40 degree temperatures together with warm water provide no barrier to the notion of swimming either! As the sun started to set we were invited to join the family for dinner and we spent a lovely evening chatting together, solving the world's problems and listening to the naval live fire exercises going on far out to sea; a reminder of the real life issues which the locals must be alert to at all times. As our host's husband said (a former battalion comander now with the Prime Minister's office) "it's all quiet until it's not quiet".

After lazing around the pool reading and swimming we returned the next day to another snorkelling site, this time within a marine reserve. We had to pay for this pleasure but only saw the value in this when seeking out the "Rock of Moses" which is some way offshore. Our persistence in searching for it was rewarded though as the marine life and colourful coral are as good there as on any scuba dive I have been on anywhere else in the world. Elsewhere in the reserve it is not possible to get close to the coral - great for conservation but very boring snorkelling!

Snorkelling!

We didn't have much time to hang around and soon were on our way northwards via the Judean desert to the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea has certainly retreated a lot since I first visited thirty years ago due to the use of the water from the River Jordan upstream for irrigation and drinking water. We were very fortunate to find a newly landscaped public beach area with recliners, umbrellas, changing rooms and showers and all at no charge. It is incorrect to say that you go for a swim in the Dead Sea. It can't be called swimming when it is impossible to sink! Watching people enter for the first time is really funny. First of all they wander in thinking it is no different to any other sea and then, when they get in deeper their legs bob to the surface and it is the wierdest feeling. Thereafter it is a case of sitting back and relaxing. Literally, you could easily take a newspaper in with you and then recline and read it. Just don't do what my brother did on his first visit - run in at full speed, fall headlong and then have to be guided to the showers to rinse off the incredibly salty water - painful if you have a shaving cut let alone a couple of eyes full!

Sodom and Gomorrah are adjacent to the Dead Sea and we were intrigued by a sign for "Lot's Wife" which is a local landform - a pillar of salt. The cliffs are all very crystalline and we followed our noses into a mineshaft which went horizontally deep into the cliff face. This is the kind of thing you can't do on a tour and we were again appreciative of the freedom a hire car and flexible schedule offers. That evening we arrived in Jerusalem and checked in to the Abraham Hostel which is located close to the Jaffa Gate on the western side of the city.

Passover Meal

While in Jerusalem we were invited to attend a passover meal with the local messianic jews. This was very interesting to observe and to be a part of and we felt very welcome. We were able to give a lift to a couple of other people and one of these Greg became our companion for the next few days. Greg was in Israel to find some direction in his life and it was interesting to talk with him about where he felt that was taking him. It seems that no-one is in Jerusalem without some form of mission, back-story or alternative world view, it really is a melting pot of humanity. The communal tables of the Abraham Hostel dining area are the scene of many an animated, deep and meaningful conversation between people who have often only just met!

We went into town on the day after the passover meal and it was a Jerusalem unlike any I had seen before. The normally packed streets were virtually deserted. We met up with a guide for a free tour of the city (tip based) and, while waiting for this to kick off were watching a colourful group of Africans singing and dancing in their traditional costumes near to the Jaffa Gate. Imagine our delight when we recognised them as our friends from Mt. Carmel. We just had the chance to go over and say "hello" before the tour started and we were treated to a couple of hours of very interesting inside stories on the development of Jerusalem together with recent history. Our guide carried a gun on his hip which was very rare to see. When questioned he revealed that he is an officer in the defence force reserve and he has to go through very thorough medical, psycological, marksmanship and physical tests each year to be able to continue carrying it. There have been a large number of "lone wolf" attacks on Israeli's this year and he carried it so as to be able to intervene if anything were to happen in front of him. Perhaps certain countries of the world (who shall remain nameless!) could have a look at the responsibilities demanded of their gun carrying citizens before handing out guns like candy at an impromptu "gun show". Just saying!

Dead Sea

A large part of our time in Jerusalem was spent underground. First in a tour of the tunnels beside the temple area. A large part of the ancient city is buried way below today's ground level and they are systematically tunneling away and exposing the Roman roads, the original temple wall (actually a retaining wall which formed the ground base of the Herodian temple) and various old dwellings. Above ground the Jews pray alongside each other, writing their prayers on slips of paper and pressing them into the cracks between the huge stones. The area for the men is a fair bit larger than that for the women and so to compensate the women are permitted into the tunnels at any time to pray against the wall closest to the location of the Holy of Holies.

Another tunnel that we passed through was far more rough and ready and required us to slip off our shoes and wade through at times thigh deep water. This was the tunnel built by Hezekiah (King of Judah 800 years before Christ) to protect the city water supply during times of siege and was the saving of the city more than once. All in all the tunnel stretched for around 600m and ending in the Pool of Siloam from whence we returned by an alternative tunnel which took us back to the same area as the first departed from in an area known as the City of David. I'm all for equal opportunities but I would counsel any severely obese people not to attempt this tunnel as it could lead to an embarrasing blockage as it gets very narrow at times and those walls aren't going anywhere soon!

Lot's Wife and Caves

Of course there were many more artifacts to view in Jerusalem; the pool of Bethsesda, the mount of Olives and the reconstructed treasures housed in the Temple Institute where all the candelabra and items described for Solomon's temple have been faithfully recreated in gold etc. ready for the re-establishment of the temple. Bear in mind that the temple mount is currently occupied by the Dome of the Rock one of the Muslim religion's mostsacred sites (said to be the spot where Abraham was to have offered Isaac as a sacrifice before God intervened - an event common to Islam, Christianity and Judaism) and you can see the makings of an almighty stouch if and when it is deemed the time to re-build the Jewish Temple. This is championed not so much by the average Israeli but by the Ultra-Orthodox Jews as we were informed by our next Jewish host in the very North of Israel - Kiryat Shmona. He has formed a dim view of the Ultra-Orthadox as they are the most against the establishment of Israel as a nation. This suprised me as they are also the ones most likely to be pushing the frontiers with their settler villages in the West Bank but it turns out that they will not participate in the otherwise compulsory national service because they do not recognise the authority of the state of Israel on the grounds that it cannot be established until the Messiah returns!

It was fascinating chatting to the ordinary Israeli's whenever we got the chance. Very often there was a feeling that they just wanted to live at peace and that they were happy for the West Bank to return to Jordan and for the Gaza Strip to return to Egypt if that is what it takes (neither recipient country wants this solution or the occupants by the way). There is no simple solution so it seems but what is a little confusing to the outsider is the difference between "Palestinians" which largely live in the two areas noted above and "Israeli Arabs" which live side by side with Jews, Christians, Muslims etc. in the remainder of Israel. From what I can see there is no chance at all of the Golan Heights being returned to Syria from where the shelling of Israel can resume as it did through the 60s and 70s. The feeling is that it was once again territory gained during a defensive war and is too valuable strategically to return under any circumstances and particularly so with the instability of Syria. This is not intended to offer my solutions nor to spark debate on who is oppressing who. Just to reflect the conversations that we held with people actually living life in the melting pot that is Israel. If you want to continue the discussion in great depth I recommend visiting the land, talking with the people and debating with them.

Spring Flowers

Kiryat Shmona is right up on the Lebanese border. So close that I confess that I sought a number of opinions from locals as to whether it was sensible for us to locate there for a few days. While there we visited the lovely waterfalls in the Banias national park and continued up to explore the Nimrod fortress set high on the hills overlooking the Upper Gallilee region. Everywhere wild flowers abounded and we often found ourselves driving along tree lined roadways. The former was nature released - the latter nature harnessed, not for beauty but as protection against shelling from the Golan Heights where Syrians used to like to indulge in target practice against any vehicles travelling the highways of the region. Wherever we drove in Israel we found hitchikers and particularly during the Passover week when all universities are closed. All the hot spots are clogged with young people with one finger pointing down (the equivalent of our one thumb up). We stopped to share our limited car space with a few of these and they were very grateful.

We couldn't visit such a region without going up to the borders with each troubled country. Overlooking Syria in particular it was crazy to be looking across a land in such conflict. Although it was quiet when we visited, some months before it was possible to stand on these hills and listen to the sounds of battle beyond, a little like the WAGs of the middle ages. Very surreal! Talking of surreal, visiting the village of Metula which is pressed hard against the border with Lebanon was another level. Contrary to all other villages we had visited this one was a model village created by the Baron Rothschild and it has a slightly "Swiss" feel. It is amazing though that this is not abandoned given how many times it has been the subject of rocket attacks from Hamas terrorists within Lebanon. The town sits across the face of a hill facing north and must give the appearance of a dart board for any chap with a rocket and a sick mind. The British and French drew the boundary between the nations at this point and having decided that this farming village will for ever Israel be they drew the line just past the houses but excluded the fields belonging to those same farmers. Those were strange times! It is said that the soil in those fields is so good that if a farmer were attacked by a snake then he could find no stone with which to defend himself. They certainly seem lush and well cared for to this day but it was strange to be peering at them through a heavily defended border fence with armoured patrols visible on either side.

So there you are, it turned out I enjoyed Israel far more than I thought and we certainly got the alternative view that we were looking for. Unfortunately Israel is a very expensive place to travel around and with the coincidence with Passover week we ended up going $1000 over budget during the 13 nights that we were there so I guess we will have to be a bit more careful from hereon in.

Until next time.....

Photos: 11 Cyprus

iain_and_tamara — Fri, 15 Apr 2016 22:47:00 GMT

Cyprus

iain_and_tamara — Fri, 15 Apr 2016 21:25:00 GMT

If there is a land that I have been exposed to most without ever having visited it must be the tormented paradise of Cyprus. Tamara is one quarter Cypriot and her Yaya (Greek for grandmother) is a passionate full blooded Cypriot. In addition my cousin-in-law is an equally passionate Cypriot. I should correct that; no Cypriot outside of Cyprus ever seems to describe themselves as Cypriot. The ones I have met would always say "I am Greek Cypriot", others that I had not yet rubbed shoulders with would doubtless describe themselves as "Turkish Cypriots" a distinction that underlies the tension that is always present in Cyprus a land of great strategic importance at the crossroads of Europe and the Middle East.

My other experience of Cyprus was a slightly surreal one. During my time practising architecture in England a passionate Cypriot man had walked into the practice one day full of hopes and dreams for an extensive wildlife park in the Troodos mountains. Many months of imaginative work later there were no more funds and yet another Cypriot dream died.

So, with a number of pre-conceived ideas, I stepped off of the plane, eager to explore and to finally see the reality of the ethereal vision conjured up by many a relative's visit.

First night - Balkan dancing

First stop - Paphos. We had selected our accommodation to be an easy walk to the Tomb of the Kings (no kings present by the way, now or ever - clever marketing!). It was also a fairly decent walk via a coastal walkway to get to the centre of the town with its old port and attendant cafes and restaurants. We went in search of one particular restaurant - The Castle Taverna as that has been a port of call on all of Tamara's visits as well as her Yaya's. Yaya got talking to these people back in the 80s and they have been firm friends ever since. When we walked in we were recognised by the waitress Olympia which led to unheard of happiness, hugs and selfies as she instantly remembered Yaya and started asking after our daughter Skye who she also thinks of as her daughter! It turns out that the owners were no longer there, they had set up a new taverna some way from there and so we drove off to track them down. We arrived just on lunch time (not entirely a coincidence) and were the first to be seated but not before the waiter Philipus* showered us with welcomes and reminicences. If we consider that we have had some tough experiences his recent one may take the cake as this year his son got married at a cost to Philipus* of more than 30K euros. In Cyprus you do these things once and you do it well eh? Unfortunately not. Within two weeks the bride absconded with another man and the marriage was over. A tragedy for all concerned, not least Philipus*. 30K of savings on a waiter's salary is nothing trivial. When the owner Spiros arrived he again was delighted to see Tamara again and to meet me. Before we knew it the meal and drinks were on the house. Yet another example of generous hospitality that we have experienced on this trip such as our hosts in Agia Napa who kept piling more and more culinary delights in front of us until we could eat no more then upgrading us from a studio to a one bedroom apartment with balcony for no charge and for no reason other than that we seemed a lovely couple!

Castles in the clouds

As usual we had a game plan to explore the whole country and in a hire car we set off twowards the western tip of the island exploring Aphrodite's grotto and enjoying a long walk in the surrounding national park before winding our way up through narrow and steep lanes up into the foothills of the Troodos Mountains. These mountains are not the highest in the world but they form a resolute backbone to the island and are responsible for moderating the climate and condensing clouds to provide the water supply. From the Troodos range one could look south from whence we had come or look north across the area of Turkish occupied northern Cyprus. We visited a reservoir in each location. The one in the south virtually empty as very little rainfall has been received this springtime. The one in the north much fuller. How can this be? Is there no population pressure in the north perhaps? The actual reason was a fascinating one which demonstrates the level of commitment that Turkey has shown to the northern territory. The reservoir is fed from the highlands of central Turkey itself via a massive 200km long floating pipeline which is suspended beneath the surface of the sea before making landfall to the west of Kyrenia. It is an extroadinarily creatandive and bold solution to a very real problem.

While in the Troodos area we were able to visit the monastery at Kykkos which is well endowed with very artistic mosaic wall panels, many of which shimmer with gold leaf to give a good lustre. It was fun to identify the biblical scenes depicted in each panel. We stayed a couple of nights in Christy's Palace as guests of the Pedoulas town mayor. The hotel owner is rather proud of his part time job and will cleverly slip it "humbly" in to any conversation that offers an opportunity. We took advantage of his position to lobby for some more control on the shabby town roofs which are a massive feature given the steep site. In almost every town in Cyprus there seems to be some control of the building materials used. In Pedoulas though every time a tile roof comes to the end of its life it is replaced with nice freshly painted corrugated iron which a few years later becomes tatty, rusty corrugated iron which now dominates the view. "I agree" said the mayor "and we have enacted this rule but then the people come to me and say "Mr Mayor, I can't afford a tile roof" and I know him so I let him put on a metal roof". Such is life!

Modern Ruins - Look carefully and you will see that they are abandoned.

Take it for granted that we went to see a lot of ancient ruins in Cyprus, whether in Paphos, Kolossi or Kourion. While interesting there was little to define these from other areas around the Mediterranean and so I will not regale you with all of the minutiae again dear reader. What Cyprus has that are not so common elsewhere are modern day ruins, the sad product of the four days of fighting that followed the Turkish invasion {Greek version} or intervention {Turkish version}. No matter the rights or wrongs the Turkish now inhabit an area above an arbitary green line struck by the British administration with the Greeks restricted to an area below that well reinforced border. The UN also patrol this border though what that small force would do if either heavily armed side decided to start a battle is anybody's guess. In one area the Turks advanced beyond that green line and were told in no uncertain terms by the UN that they were not to occupy it. Rather than withdraw and return that land to the south the Turks have simply kept the front line where it was and left that area of Famugusta as a ghost town. The area is still as it was on the day of the battle in 1974 with abandoned posessions in the same place and many a building destroyed by fighting.

Barricades Forming The Front Line

Crossing the front line between the north and the south in the capital of Nicosia was a very surreal experience on Tamara's last visit with a genuine "no mans' land" where it seemed anything goes. There was graffiti and couches and a very odd feel. This time it has all been much more cleaned up but Nicosia remains a divided city. You are walking down an innocuous street, turn the corner and find a barricade or an army post. At every location there is a sign ordering no photos to be taken but sometimes the camera went off by accident and we are left with the evidential results! The last time Tamara visited was with her Yaya on a mission to return her to her childhood home of Rizokapaso (renamed by the Turks as Dipkarpaz). This was successful although they were not able to locate the exact house that she was born or brought up in. The closest was bumping into a very old man in the Greek coffee house who remembered Yaya's family. A long chat ensued in Greek which was not translated for Tamara but it seemed that the house had been knocked down several years previously.

In the meantime Tamara had carried out a lot of research to try to ascertain whether there is still family land in the occupied zone. On this visit we pushed much harder to get to the bottom of the story, including visiting the land registry in Limassol and following a trail of breadcrumbs through a beaurocratic nightmare which eventually proved fruitless. Every time we thought we had come to the end of the search a bystander would seem to have another good idea and we would shuffle off to explain our story to yet another helpful but largely powerless official. In the end we were able to have an informal database search carried out for three names (Yaya's, her mother's and her father's) with no positive result. It really was like looking for a needle in a haystack with a blindfold on and no certainty that there was ever a needle. The database had been put together since the invasion by Cypriots who turned up to the office with a copy of their deeds so it is anything but complete and could never have included Yaya's family who were overseas at the time. In addition there was a family rumour that the land had had to be given to a doctor to pay for Yaya's childhood medical bills.

Stone Arch House Bedroom

In Rizokapaso we stayed in some beautiful stone arch houses and the lovely owners were fascinated to hear the story of Tamara's family. Rizokapaso is unique in that it is the one area of northern Cyprus where Greek families remained and to this day live peacefully alongside their Turkish neighbours like our hosts. Before we knew it we were being taken on a tour of the neighbours, first to visit an old Greek priest who was not quite old enough it seemed. He knew of some Kourtoulou's however who were still living in Rizokapaso so we hopped in a car and cold called on a family who were very guarded and closed at first, eventually the penny dropped and they realised that the family in question were living next door so off we went to cold call again. This time we struck lucky but no one could make the link so it was back to the last family for tea and biscuits while everyone talked around in circles. Tamara did her best and her preparation meant that there was always just enough to go on to keep people interested but in the end it was to no avail.

An ancient olive mill - now a restaurant

With one last throw of the dice we headed to the Greek coffee shop the next morning to try to talk to the old man. We were sad to hear that unfortunately he had died two years previously but, "you could talk to the registrar of births and deaths, he has an extraordinary memory". We did. It turned out that he did too but not good enough, he was able to send us to another final contact though - would this be the key? Once again we were driven by two local men to a private house, they knocked on the door which was opened by a very grumpy woman in the middle of cooking. A brief conversation and Tamara was introduced - to no interest at all. The new lady bustled off to rescue a pot that was on the point of boiling dry but then left us at the door for some time while carrying on her life. Tamara attempted to bring her back to the conversation which prompted a stream of invective and had Tamara struck and all four of us chased off from the house! At that stage it is fair to say that the trail went cold and we do not expect to ever find the truth of the Kourtoulou land.

Kyrenia (Girne in Turkish) home of Tamara's Great Great Grandfather

The northern part of Cyprus is by far the most beautiful in my opinion and has not been ruined by unfettered investment in bulk tourism. Kyrenia is its gem and we opted to break from our norm and book a wonderful hotel directly overlooking the old harbour. As we sat on the balcony and watched the hustle and bustle of the waterfront below or gazed across at the illuminated walls of the castle which dates back in time to the pre-crusader period it was good to reflect on the island that we were visiting and the tensions that have torn it apart. What is the solution? Could there be a solution? Some say that one is on the horizon as it is dirty laundry that Turkey needs to address before any entry to the European Union could be countenanced. I would say that a very good start would be to demilitarise the island with the outside armies of Greece and Turkey simultaneously returning to their homeland - both northern and southern Cyprus each have separate armies from their mainland counterparts. On both sides of the island we met many people who identified as Cypriot rather than Greek or Turkish. The Turkish Cypriots were scornful of the Turkish settlers which they use as labour while retaining ownership of the businesses. The Greek Cypriots appear equally disappointed with the results of the investments coming from mass tourism which are all too rapidly sullying many of the island's more beautiful locations. Who knows if reconciliation is possible? Many would say "no". I would be only slightly more positive as so many people on each side have living memories of poor treatment from their opposites. On the other hand many people could never see a workable solution for the Northern Ireland troubles either and great progress has been made there so......?

View From The Hotel Window - Kyrenia Harbour

Enough of the politics - more of the festivals! We counted ourselves incredibly lucky that our visit to the Kyrenia region coincided with the annual asparagus festival. Who could resist celebrating the harvest of this flacid green legume? We certainly couldn't so jumped in the car to see what the festivities could possibly look like? A street market basically, in which we were the unwitting centre of attention as a result of being the only outsiders to grace the festival with our presence. Nevertheless great fun was had by all and we got to tuck into a variety of street foods representing the northern Cypriot culture.

Embracing the spirit of the "Tree of Idleness" made famous in the book "Bitter Lemons".

Well that was it, a very thorough examination of the delights and frustrations of this legendary eastern Mediterranean island. It lived up to the hype in most ways, fell flat in some but overall combined to make a very interesting visit as a result of all the family connections and the hard work that Tamara put into the preparation for the visit.

Until next time.....

*name changed to protect privacy

Photos: 10 Kiwi Summer

iain_and_tamara — Wed, 30 Mar 2016 21:50:00 GMT

Two months in New Zealand

Kiwi Summer

iain_and_tamara — Wed, 30 Mar 2016 20:19:00 GMT

With the onset of the Northern winter we decided to visit the world's best country for tourists (Telegraph Magazine for the past four years). At first it seemed a ridiculous prospect - to take a holiday from our journey on the other side of the world and cross the world twice in doing so - however, the more we thought about it the more it made sense and, once committed we were blessed to find an introductory fare from China Southern which was about half the price of normal but only available on the exact day we wanted to travel! Sometimes things are just meant to be. Cost-wise we had to add the cost of one standard round the world airfare but that would be balanced to a fair degree by the fact that we could use our own car, stay with relatives and friends from time to time and use our own camping gear so that we could stay cheaply around the country. That was the theory but would it work out like that?

I am happy to say that the answer was largely "yes". We stayed for a while in Christchurch catching up with family and friends and were fortunate enough to be able to stay with our church friends Peter and Debbie when we needed to be local to Mt. Pleasant while our home from home was on the farm with Tamara's parents. It was worth it just to see some of the suprised looks on people's faces when we walked in!

Journey Back To Middle Earth

One of the benefits of travelling for so long on a flexible agenda is that you have time available if you need it. It turned out that our friends Dennis and Raelene had quite the opposite situation. In order for them to lay their new carpet they needed to completely repaint the whole interior of their house using days off, evenings and weekends. 2 + 2 = 4. We had time; they needed time so we rolled up our sleeves to give them a decent head start. Five hard but rewarding days later pretty much the whole upper floor was complete and good progress was being made elsewhere. Raelene then burst in to tell us that we had struck gold! Our travel plans involved touring around the North Island, visiting amongst other places Great Barrier Island for a week and then a further week based on the Coromandel Peninsular. While we had been rolling paint Raelene had been hooking up free accommodation for us for both of these weeks as a thank you. Awesome!

And so it was that we packed up the car and headed north, staying the first night with our old friends Roy and Valerie near Picton before taking the ferry for a very picturesque voyage through the Marlborough Sounds and across the Cook Strait. The second part of this crossing can be very rough but we were presented with a mill pond for a very smooth crossing. We only intended to stay a night in Upper Hutt (near Wellington) but our friends Paul and Frances persuaded us to stay longer to fully enjoy the delights of the Hutt Valley which involved huge (and bracing) swimming holes, a visit to "Rivendell" the forest home of the elves in Lord of the Rings and a day spent exploring the viticutural delights of the Martinborough wine area. That same day we visited Greytown which has transformed its high street over the past few decades through relocating character-full old buildings from all around the country and restoring them in a very effective manner rather than allowing them to be demolished. Playing on this old world character many of the shops in Greytown are purveyors of antiques and vintage items. This is not normally my thing but one item caught my eye, a vintage soda siphon. Unfortunately the shop was shut and so I could do nothing but admire it through the window.

The next day we set off again to visit Whanganui, determined to follow a route that took us past the best ice cream shop in the world (according to Frances!). To our suprise we next found ourselves in Greytown once again, hideously off course - the only time we have been so in the whole of our travels. While this could have been embarrasing, particularly in our own country, it turned out to be serendipidous as we found ourselves once again outside the shop with the soda siphon. We could not ignore such a prompting and continued our journey complete with said item forming part of our luggage.

We were passing through Palmeston North on the same day that Raelene flew in to help her sister with a house move so we spent some time catching up with her - just because we could - before completing our journey to Whanganui where we set up our tent on the banks of the river, lit our Moroccan candle lantern and spent a very relaxing evening before turning in for our first night under canvas.

Waitomo Caves

The next few days involved wandering the shoreline of New Plymouth, driving up to the lower slopes of Mt. Egmont (Taranaki) and then driving up to Waitomo. "Wai" means water and "tomo" refers to holes and tunnels worn by the water through the limestone hills through which it flows. The end result of this is a network of interconnected caves and underground waterways which form an ideal habitat for the millions of glow worms which have made this area justifiaby famous. On a previous visit I had followed the traditional sedate walk and boat ride through the main glow worm cave so this time we were keen to be a little bit more adventurous and we opted instead for a black-water rafting tour. Our timing was good as the rain set in outside to maintain good flows and we donned our wetsuits and carried inner tubes into the cave through which we clambered and floated for the next hour enjoying the artificial starlight of millions of illuminated fishing lures dangling above our heads.

That night it rained more and with the promise of heavy deluges forecast we played our "get out of the rain" card, staying instead in a bed and breakfast house near Cambridge. This was a very surreal experience as the Thai owner had only just bought the property which was full of character. Our bedroom was at one end of a very long (40m) corridor. The bathroom was at the other end and in between was the family living area, lounge, diner etc. Walking that hallway late at night hearing the storm howl outside, screams from one TV and fighting on another while watching a bunny rabbit grazing on the green carpet was a moment to remember!

The Green Dragon Inn, Hobbiton

We ummed and urred about whether to visit Hobbiton. Surely a very tacky tourist venture costing the earth and offering little? In the end we decided to book ahead for this and were both incredibly impressed by the authenticity of the place and with how amazingly well the tours are organised. Despite more than 3000 people visiting every day of the year each tour group had its own space and we never felt unduly pressured to move along. It turned out that we were rarities being Kiwis in Hobbiton, almost none visit apparently. Bad choice bro' - go along and check it out.

We always seize the opportunity to catch up with family when passing through Auckland and so we popped in to Tamara's brother Brandon and his wife Mel then we drove further north to visit our friends Lisa and Allan in Whangerei Heads. Not really knowing what to expect here we were blown away by the surrounding landscape of hills, bays, rocky outcrops and deserted beaches. We visited pretty much a different beach each day we were there and I was lucky enough to go with Allan, a lifelong experienced angler, to try our luck out on the high seas with his boat. We brought back enough fish for dinner and a couple for the freezer and then found out that a 3.5m great white shark had been viewed just around the point from where we had been snorkelling earlier that day, a couple of hundred metres at best - that would be about four swishes of his tail! On the boat we also saw a hammerhead shark. Apparently the exceptionally warm summer has attracted multitudes of sharks of all species to the northern NZ waters. Thankfully we still have all of our fingers and toes so no harm done! Lisa and Allan did their best to sell us on the delights of Whangarei Heads and for the first time we could at least see a different area of NZ which we could consider living in happily.

View From Rangitoto Summit

From Whangerei we drove north - far north - to the very tippity tip of New Zealand culminating in Cape Reinga where it was fascinating to watch two oceans crashing together resulting in multiple whirlpools and eddies as well as great plumes of spray offshore. On the way to the Cape we stayed in a number of campsites each beside a beautiful beach or bay, most owned by the Department of Conservation (DOC) and only costing between $6 and $12 a night. What a privilege to live in such an outdoor minded country where the best spots are not cordoned off and then sold to the highest bidder!

Talking of which, while we were on the NZ leg of our trip we heard of efforts to raise money to buy one of these beaches and then to present it to the nation. NZ is fairly unique in that a measurement of one surveyor's chain from the high water mark of almost every beach and major waterway is owned by the crown which means that it is available to the public at all hours and for no charge. I say "almost" as some beaches were already in private ownership before the Queen's Chain was enacted and these have remained private ever since. The beach in question is a missing piece of the jigsaw located in the beautiful Abel Tasman National Park. To cut a long story short we and 42,000 others clubbed together to raise the purchase price and were successful! A great "feel good" story for NZ.

After the delights of the far north we took a ferry to Great Barrier Island. This is relatively expensive to access and you really need a car on the island so this was really our best chance of ever being able to visit. Driving off the ferry at Tryphena felt like entering a different world. The speed limit is officially 80km/h but please drive 30 - and they did - so we did. It made for a very relaxing time. Distances are not that great anyway so what the heck?!

Tryphena Harbour, Great Barrier Island

We spent our nights in a classic old caravan and our days kayak fishing, swimming, tramping and seeking out natural hot pools in the rivers. Evenings were another level of enjoyment with long hours playing cards with our hosts David and Marion who have lived on the Barrier for decades. We started the week as friends of friends of friends but are happy to report that we ended the week as just plain friends! These guys are always welcome at our place - there can be no better hosts in NZ. The whole of the Barrier is off-grid for water, sewage and electricity and with the distances involved all are tremendously resourceful people ready to offer each other a hand. What a fantastic community to be a part of and the island has so much bounty and variety that it would take a long time to lose its attraction - if ever. I think we have a new favorite NZ place!

From Great Barrier Island we headed ashore and were soon in the Coromandel as guests of Raelene's parents. Not a caravan this time - oh no - this time we had traded up to a campervan on their front driveway. From here we explored all of the delights of the peninsular. Gorgeous sandy beaches, fascinating cave and arch landforms and the aptly named Hot Water Beach where you take a spade at low tide and dig out your own personal spa pool on the beach and watch as it fills with naturally heated water. It is not all about beaches though and we managed to find and enjoy some great bush walks as well as the Coromandel railway, a privately built narrow guage railway up a steep, bushy hillside. The railway used to service a potters' collective with clay from up the hill but it grew into a private obsession for the workaholic owner who grew it into a fantastic tourism and bush regeneration project.

The Amazing Huka Falls, Taupo

Our time in NZ was running out and so we turned south and drove down through the centre of the North Island past Taupo and the amazing Huka Falls and then crossing the high plateau of the Desert Road between cloud shrouded volcanoes. Reversing our way up we stayed for a further night with Paul and Frances and then went to see the Gallipolli exhibition at the national museum Te Papa before an afternoon ferry crossing and a late drive down to Christchurch.

It was good to be back with family again and particularly to spend time with Skye but before we knew it it was time once more to pack our bags and fly north again, via China, back to Europe for the second half of our journey.

Until next time.....

Photos: 09 England

iain_and_tamara — Sat, 30 Jan 2016 22:35:00 GMT

England

iain_and_tamara — Fri, 15 Jan 2016 13:42:00 GMT

Until this point our travel choices have all been about places. Our time in England though was precious for the people and events that we were able to share with them, including each of my parents' birthdays as well as Christmas and the New Year.

The weather did us no favours and we were able to count the number of times we saw the sun in the six weeks that we were there. Six. Not days, times! We were prepared for something like this though and it meant that I was able to help out my parents with a number of jobs that they didn't even realise they wanted doing!

Chilling Down Outside Hampton Court Palace

In no time at all the greenhouse was fixed and weeded, the shed cleared out and organised and the garage joined in with a healthy car load of junk for the recycling centre and dump. Next it was onto the main part of the house which caused a few stresses amongst the olds. So far, so good but - did anyone mention the attic?

Dad's attic used to be a pride and joy. Painstakingly floored and lined before my birth the walls were lined with shelving displaying books and fully indexed boxes of slides, a wondrous model train set tops it off. Unfortunately the collecting of stuff did not finish at my birth however and by the time we poked our head up there it was to find all of the floor covered to waist height or more with boxes of papers etc. Many weeks of hard toil later the impossible now appears possible with most of the wall shelves again sorted through and 60% of the floor area cleared. There is still a long way to go but there is hope of once again getting this space in order so that they can enjoy the space once again.

With Dad In Lloyds Bank, The Strand

In amongst all of this we squeezed in a quick weekend to visit our friends Mike and Caroline in Nottingham. We enjoyed their company for the years that they lived close to us in Mt. Pleasant NZ and it was great to spend time with them catching up on the intervening years. We headed out to the famous Sherwood Forest and gazed wistfully at the Major Oak which is reputed to have given shelter to Robin Hood and his merry men whilst on the run from the heinous Sheriff of Nottingham.

Tamara also managed to travel up to Norwich to work through some family tree stuff with her second cousin David. The joy of meeting David for the first time was completely counter-balanced by the news that he had just been diagnosed with a very aggressive and terminal cancer and before we left England he died, less than four weeks from diagnosis. He was very pleased to be able to pass on his family research to someone equally passionate about it. One bonus that came from this visit was the opportunity to meet up with some of the wider family - all cousins of some description.

Dinner With Martin & Frances - My Former Business Partners

Apart from this our time in England was about preparing for Christmas, visiting London on several occasions to see the lights, meet friends and sightsee. On one of these occasions we happened to be in Leicester Square at the same time as a film premiere which was all a bit of fun. I consider Leicester Square to be the heart of London nightlife and once again it did not disappoint! On one visit dad gave us a guided tour of the medieval Temple area of the city. Located slap bang between the area of trade (the ports) and the area of commerce (the City of London) this was the ideal place for the lawyers to set up and they were not going to miss that trick. Intriguingly this area is lit using gas lights to this very day and they give a very soft light to the streetscape.

Christmas itself was at my brother's house and involved a lovely walk through Knole Park, past the old house and the quietly grazing deer. While the weather had not been sunny it had at least been unseasonably warm and it was to stay like that for the whole of our visit. Later we started our Christmas meal in just enough time to finish before bed several hours later. The food was scrumptious and it was fun to have almost everyone together for Christmas. On this occasion everyone from my immediate family with the exception of Skye was there and she was sorely missed.

Of Course The Pub Was Full Of Morris Men!

Partly as a result of missing Skye and partly as a cunning plan to find some sunshine we opted to fly from England back to NZ for a couple of months during which we hoped to spend more time catching up with friends and family and to spend several weeks touring the North Island. More of that in our following blog.

Until next time.....

Norway

iain_and_tamara — Wed, 23 Dec 2015 13:17:00 GMT

"Let's go to somewhere to experience a genuinely cold Christmas!"

When sitting in New Zealand this suggestion would get short shrift but when in England surrounded by budget airlines it becomes a possibility very rapidly. We had a hunt through some German locations as well as some of the more picturesque Swiss and Austrian alternatives before discovering our $50 air tickets to Oslo.

As soon as we had booked we received advice from any who had been previously that Norway is one of the most expensive places on the planet so we were grateful that we had only commited to three nights. They had not reckoned on the Oslo Pass! (more of that later).

Winter Christmas

Arriving at what should have been early evening to find pitch darkness then standing on a station platform in biting coldness gave a hint that we had found what we were looking for but our visit to the nearby Christmas market confirmed it all. Before long we found ourselves sitting on a reindeer skin covered log beside a brightly burning brazier, each of us covered with blankets and sipping gluwein while chatting to strangers and admiring the plethora of twinkling Christmas lights. Surely this could not get any more traditional "cold Christmas"? Oh yes it could! The moose head mounted on the wall then started to sing Christmas carols in a deep and melodic voice. Bingo! Freeze the moment!

Our hotel was a completely different concept than any we had stayed at to date. An automated check-in service with key dispenser and then styling straight out of an Ikea designer's dream. When it is -9 degrees outside during the day a warm hotel is a must. Citibox ticked that box and the icing on the cake was the underfloor heating in the bathroom!

Amazing Hoar Frost

The next morning we headed out clutching our Oslopasses in our non-sweaty hands. We each had thermal underwear, multiple layers of merino, wind proofs, hoodies, beanies, gloves etc., even so the cold cut through all of those layers in very impressive fashion. Any exposed skin took a pounding but at least it was not raining or windy. The Oslopass enabled us to take as many forms of transport and visit as many attractions as possible within forty eight hours and we of course took up this challenge in spades. First up was a bus trip to the museum peninsular. In the summer this would be a ferry across the Fjord which would have been delightful, however at the time of our visit too much of the landing area was frozen over to allow this service to continue. We came around the corner to see a beautiful high stave church surrounded by frost laden trees. The hoar frost was so strong that the branches were a little weighed down by it and the fields appeared to be covered with snow - the overall effect was enchanting. Realising that the stave church must form a part of the folk museum we leapt up and jumped off the bus. The folk museum is largely an outdoor collection of wooden buildings which have been re-sited from all around Norway. These houses often have sod roofs, a practice that has been followed for the past few hundred years (and probably for millennia before that!). Not everything is outside though and there is a recreation of early Oslo town in which you can visit an apartment block in which each appartment has been decked out to represent a different time period.

Stave Church

We walked from here to the next museum on our list - the Viking Ship museum. I fully expected to see some fragments of keel timbers and the odd pot. Imagine my suprise when I walked in to see two almost perfectly preserved boats in all their glory, together with a third in the poor condition I had expected to see. To be honest, with a weekend's work it looked as if the first two could put to sea once again. These boats had each been used as part of the burial ritual for some prominent Viking personages, they had been loaded with treasure and utilitarian items so as to accompany these people into the afterlife with all that would be needed for a full and happy eternity. The whole ensemble is then buried in wet clay which has had the effect of providing an oxygen free environment and preventing decay. Long ago the treasure had been looted but the "boring" stuff had remained so we get the chance to view 1000 year old clothing, shoes, pots, weapons and tapestries as well as highly decorative sledges etc. Fascinating!

Viking Boots

Which of us forty somethings did not follow the adventures of Thor Heyerdall as he piloted Kon Tiki, Ra and Ra Two across the Pacific Ocean and the Atlantic Ocean respectively? OK maybe you didn't and, come to think of it maybe I didn't either as I discovered the Kon Tiki trip had taken place in the forties! I had seen the documentaries however and was spellbound at the audacity of a man who forms a theory, does some research and then backs himself to achieve it - at great risk to life and limb! One of the fellas on the trip just happened to meet Thor in South America and thought that it would be a great jape so asked to come with. Thor liked the cut of his jib and so it was all go. All in all there was only one person on the voyage with any sailing experience at all! Well, if this all sounds appealing to you the good news is that Kon Tiki and Ra Two are both intact and fully preserved in their own museum which also has great detail of the adventures and how they came about. Kon Tiki is a balsa wood raft and each of the Ra craft were reed boats such as sailed on the Nile.

Continuing the maritime theme the third and last museum of the day was wholly dedicated to the wooden ship Fram which was specifically built to withstand being trapped in pack ice for several years. The plan was to sail north, get trapped and then test the theory that the pack ice is circling the globe on sea currents. This plan came off and the theory proved and so, when Roald Amundsen needed a boat for his south pole expedition the Fram was the natural choice. Again perfectly preserved this boat is available for exploration throughout and the domed room in which it is set is used as a giant projection screen which was the closest I have come yet to experiencing the Northern Lights.

Everything is stylish!

Our other full day was spent first of all exploring the Vigeland sculpture installation in Frogner Park. Gustav Vigeland was so prolific in sculpting different variations of the unclothed human body that he needed somewhere to display them all. Enter the City of Oslo council who found some space in a park and a new attraction was born. Overnight it had been snowing and so we found ourselves making tracks and even indulging in a wee snowball fight! The Nobel peace prize museum was an interesting diversion with a mix of political correct statements and incredible stories of selfless dedication.

We wandered down to the port side and up into the castle where there was a really interesting resistance museum. Without trying to be too trite this museum's strongest message seems to be to reinforce how hard it is to resist a determined and heartless enemy when every act of resistance results in excessive reprisals against whole villages. One thing that I learned from this museum was that the Nazis were so convinced that the allied invasion was to come via Norway that they packed that country with troops.

Boulder Cushions

The Norwegian resistance were held back until such time as the Normandy invasions commenced when all communications, roads, rail etc. were hit in a bid to prevent redeployment of the reserve troops. Finally we visited the opera house right on the waterfront. This is a triumph of modern architecture and we were fortunate enough to arrive just as a foyer performance was starting. Young people in national costume singing Nordic carols to an appreciative audience all tucking into Norwegian christmas treats. We were able to loiter long enough to see the whole performance and also to sample the delicious treats later on when the staff were clearing up. We watched the sunset from the roof of the building and then enjoyed reindeer pizza to finish off our delightful mini-break to Christmas land.

North African Adventure

iain_and_tamara — Wed, 23 Dec 2015 05:46:00 GMT

There is something very satisfying about arriving in Africa on a ship. It harkens back to a more graceful age of travel when ocean liners were the norm and the minimum baggage allowance would be three sturdy trunks and a full length mirror. We had booked to cross the straits of Gibraltar on a fast ferry direct to the centre of Tangiers from where it was but a short walk to our hotel. The weather had a different view of the situation however and threw everything it could at us, leading to very stormy seas. The catamaran was unable to put to sea but we were able to re-book on a larger, slower ferry which managed to weather the storm and deposit us on a windswept and bedraggled North Moroccan coast with the prospect of an hour long taxi fare to follow. It is somewhat ironic that the coldest we had felt on our entire trip was in Africa of all places but this storm which had Europe firmly in its grip lashed the North of Africa with its tail until its energy was spent three days later. Those days were happily spent though immersing ourselves in a completely different culture and Tangiers was a delight with its medina and many curious shops and restaurants. It was here that we were introduced to the concept of largely male only tea shops with seats all in a line facing onto the street. There is so much going on in the streets though that we could think of no better way of sitting and quickly adapted to the people watching agenda.

Tangier Street Life

Introduced to the concept of Geocaching by our daughter we found that the only Geocache in Morocco was just down the road from us so we trotted on down to find the hidden capsule rather too easily affixed to the rear of a signboard in a magnetic container. We had bidden fairwell to my parents the day before and now it was time to sit down and plan ahead for our trip around Morocco. Tamara has wanted to visit Morocco for many years and, as is her wont, had already put together an itinerary which formed a skeleton for our actual tour.

From Tangier we boarded a bus for a short journey to the hill town of Chefchaouen. This town is known for two things: "buildings painted every shade of blue" and "marijuana". Whereas in Tangier I had been approached on a couple of occasions to ascertain whether I was partial to a little weed, in Chefchaouen every second male I passed seemed to have some surplus that needed re-homing. Although this activity was patently obvious to anyone in the vicinity each was laughably furtive in their approach and my naive and over-loud "what was that? .....No, I don't want any drugs" was not always welcome!

Chefchaouen

The blue buildings were something else entirely. Sometimes it is desirable to try for perfection; on other occassions a collective slap-dash aproach can lead to a fantastic result and this is the case with the paint job in Chefchaouen where "cutting in" is unheard of and stopping painting once reaching the bottom of the wall is considered inappropriate. As a result the colour flows from the wall and over a foot or so of the pavement in a deliberate blurring of two normally separate entities. This, combined with rounded corners, gives a very fluid feel to the urban fabric. Like many towns in Morocco Chefchaouen was constructed well before the advent of the motor vehicle and its narrow streets and many steps are only suited to foot traffic or beasts of burden which means that within the walls of the medina it is very peaceful. In the centre of town we enjoyed a tajin in the shadow of the ancient rammed earth walls of the kasbah. A tajin is a meat dish cooked in an earthenware container formed of a deep plate with a chimney shaped lid. Within this container potato, vegetables, meat and gravy are piled high and left to simmer for hours while retaining the moisture to deliver a very succulent dish - comfort food personified! During our time in Morocco we were to have a varient of this almost every evening but rarely found the repetition boring.

Berber Men Wearing Djellaba

Being in the hills allowed us the opportunity to explore a little on foot. First we climbed past the "cascades" (at that time of the year fully enclosed in one hose pipe!) and up to the "Catholic Mosque". From the name you will correctly surmise that the original church has since been taken over by muslims and renamed a mosque. This is something that we have repeatedly seen through Turkey, Greece, Spain and Morocco with the building's purpose often changing several times over the course of history. On our second day in Chefchaouen we booked our bus ticket on to Fez and then waited around for a share taxi to take us around to the other side of the mountain where we followed a narrow path for three hours up a river valley to the Akchour waterfalls. In this case thank goodness there was a creditable flow and a lovely pool surrounded by a glorious curved cliff face over which poured the river. We shared the cab and the walk with a very colurful gentleman hailing from Suriname originally - now based in the Nederlands and a committed wanderer he has an income stream which he was determined to speak of but as furtively and mysteriously as he could.

Our Gentleman From Suriname

That evening I needed the assistance of the hotelier to find a particular haunt in the city and while he was with me Tamara was tasked with manning the reception as the arrival of a couple of Russian girls was anticipated. When they arrived Tamara sprang into full welcome mode and they felt quickly at home. It was a suprise to them when upon our return it was revealed that she was a fellow traveller but by then a bond had been formed and they joined us for dinner that night and breakfast the following day. When you make a good friendship it is always sad to cut it short and so, when they offered a seat in their car to Fez the next day it was an easy decision to forego our pre-bought tickets and join them for a more comfortable and flexible ride. We were so glad that we did as the next couple of days in their company were full of fun and laughter.

Meeting The Locals

On our journey to Fez we pulled over at one point to enjoy the view and watched a family working together harvesting olives in the adjacent field. Eventually Tamara felt emboldened to approach them and soon we were enjoying a full and happy conversation with them, us in broken French and them in broken English. The glue that stuck all of this together was their beautiful young daughter whom everyone was gushing around like paparazzi trying to capture her smile for posterity. Later we pulled over on the outskirts of Fez to investigate a field in which there were a myriad of bedouin tents and lots of cars parked in a field. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained" we thought and plunged headlong into the mass of locals to find ourselves on the fringe of a huge dusty field containing thousands of horesemen in full tribal regalia. Again and again a line of around thirty horesemen would gallop at full speed across the field and then at a given signal let loose a volley of shots. If this volley was a tight one then the crowd would erupt in praise. The atmosphere was very lighthearted and we found ourselves very welcome despite being the only westerners there. We joined the throngs ordering colourful nougat and cheered as loudly as them after each successful charge. It turned out that these were hill tribesmen who had come down to the plains for this annual festival. It is very personal to them and no plainsmen usually attend so we counted ourselves very fortunate to have been able to partake in the celebration and to be so welcomed.

Impromptu Celebrations

On arrival in Fez we found that our respective accommodation was within a block of each others and once settled in we hosted Maria and Elena for dinner in our Riad "Palais El Yazid". The next day we drove out to the neighbouring towns of Meknes and Volubilis. Volubilis was the first place that we came to and it is approached via a wonderful piece of modern architecture being the newly constructed visitors' centre. This is the only new construction with the remainder dating back to the time of the Roman occupation. We happily wandered around this site with one of the official guides until such time as it got a little less interesting at which we started to muck around a bit acting as slave and master or blatently photobombing the girls' photoshoots. Everywhere we went Maria and Elena loved to strut their stuff in front of the camera which led to some very amusing entertainment and some very good results!

Volubilis Photobomb

Meknes is one of the royal cities which means that it is dominated by the Royal Palace. Unfortunately this palace is largely concealed behind an immense wall guarded at regular intervals by very casual guards slumped beneath some dirty sun canopies of the sort that would be found in a typical back garden furniture set. The Mausoleum of Moulay Ismail rescues the heritage tourist and is a great introduction into the wonderful geometric architecture typical of islamic architecture. Sultan Moulay is reported to have sired in excess of 1100 offspring in his time with a harem of 500 concubines in addition to his "cherished" four wives and this claim has since been subjected to extensive computer simulation to establish whether or not it is physically possible. Apparently so - just have intercourse every night for 35 years and Bob's your uncle (so to speak). Whatever the real figure it is clear that this bloodthirsty Sultan was due a rest and this beautiful mausoleum is a good a place as any.

The Tanneries In Fez

That evening we retired for some evening drinks in the room with our friends. There was plenty of space in our sumptuously furnished penthouse suite and we were delighted with our choice. Our hosts were so friendly and we arranged a walking tour of the city to take place the next day. This was one of the best tours we have ever had the priviledge of partaking in and for the next six hours we were introduced to so many hidden nooks that we could barely hope to list them all. In one street we could turn one way and find ourselves in an alleyway narrower than my shoulders or turn the other to view a magnificently decorated archway. A few minutes later we could open a waist high gate in a blank wall to reveal a semi basement community bakery (just bring your own dough and one dinah payment and they will bake it for you) or stumble wide eyed through the tinsmiths quarter where our guide used to work and where he lost the majority of his hearing as the hammers ring out incessently. Our guide was such a well spoken literary fellow currently studying for a doctorate in English Literature in his late fifties. Once he knew of my involvement in architecture he pulled out all of the stops and soon we were introduced to the interior of a riad currently in the middle of an extensive refurbishment. Each tiny mosaic tile being individually hand trimmed and laid was a wonder to watch. I was able to show the craftsman photos of the theatre which I had worked on in New Zealand and we each offered respect to the other. There is so much more to say about Fez - the fragrant spices and the equally fragrant tanneries, the narrow covered streets and the soaring domes and minarets. It is clear that the buildings are in some cases on their last legs and there are a myriad of timber props trying to prevent any possibility of collapse but in any case we thoroughly recommend throwing yourself into the maze that is Fez; trust yourself into the hands of a recommended guide and you will have a day to remember!

Our journeying with the girls had convinced us of the viability of renting a car and so it was that we now headed off south towards the desert in a modest Fiat Punto. Our route took us via a highland university town Ifrane where narry a headscarf was to be seen and which has been likened suprisingly to Switzerland mostly because of its chalet style architecture. We actually saw a good resemblance to parts of New Zealand in the surrounding lakes. Our overnight stay in Zaida was fairly unremarkable except to note that we arrived in this "frontier town" after dark and followed a very chaotic and post-apocalyptic alleyway to find our accommodation. This hotel has some wonderful owners and offers a good service, even down to suprising us with a large box of local apples as we were set to drive away. These apples lasted us for the remainder of the trip. Unfortunately though it is likely that the hotel will struggle due to its surroundings rather than any fault of its own.

Sahara Desert Camp

When working through the options available to experience the Sahara Desert several organised tours were offered to us by very well meaning and sincere people. Each of these would be in the order of €200 each and would include food, accommodation, camel and guide. We took an alternative approach which involved booking a "room" in a desert camp via booking.com. This room cost €59 in total and included all of the above together with entertainment in the form of a troop of percusionists around the open fire. We had such an excellent night lying alone on the top of a dune star gazing, joining in the drumming, enjoying the sunset from the highest dune around, rising early to view the sunrise and partaking in such tasty and generous dinner and breakfasts. This visit to Maharba desert camp was an undoubted highlight of our entire trip and all for very minimal cost. We thanked our hosts by completely re-writing the English directions that they send out so that subsequent guests will have no problem following them to the remote start point of the trek.

Rocking The Headscarf

From the desert we headed west across the south of Morocco. This is also desert but stony rather than the beautiful sand dunes of the Sahara and with full burqas now the norm for the womenfolk. We stayed a couple of nights in the oasis town of Tinejdad. Architecture in southern Morocco is so transitional. The buildings are made from adobe which lasts for centuries provided that it is maintained as there is a definite tendancy to dissolve as soon as there is any decent rainfall (approx. three times a year). A kasbah is a large individual dwelling and a kasah an even larger structure providing communal living with a defensive outer wall. Our hotel in Tinjedad occupied part of a traditional and very ancient kasah and its construction has provided the financial cornerstone of the refurbishment and reoccupation of the previously abandoned kasah. When the maintenance starts to be too demanding and/or the facilities can no longer keep pace with the aspirations of the occupants there is a tendency to abandon the whole place and rebuild adjacent. The original building is not demolished it is simply left to disolve back to the earth from whence it came. Truly sustainable construction which leaves a fascinating landscape of semi disolved buildings blending in completely with their backdrop.

As you drive the back roads of Morocco you will very commonly find people sitting patiently beside the road. At your approach their eyes light up and they spring into action. On four occasions we stopped to offer a lift which was always gratefully received. These often resulted in rather surreal journeys with a passenger sat silently in the back as the language divide proved rather too daunting to these shepherds. One chap that we offered a lift to just outside Ouzazette was quite the opposite. A scholar of film and video editing techniques he is learning his trade in the Moroccan Hollywood. Two studios in Ouarzazate provide desert settings for all manner of films such as Anthony and Cleopatra, Asterix or biblical classics. Lawrence of Arabia was filmed in a nearby kasar of Aït Ben Haddou. Our guest Youssef speaks really good English and was eager to debate the similarities, differences, rights and wrongs of the Muslim and Christian religions. This discussion has continued since and we are each respectively learning more of the other's culture and faith.

Travelling The Back Roads At 3000 Metres

One back road that we found ourselves on was rather more intrepid than we had ever expected. Looking back on it now we see that it is strongly advised that this section of road only be attempted by 4WD vehicles travelling in a group and employing a local guide. It should certainly not be attempted outside of the months of April to September. This is the track that we followed for five white knuckle hours rising to between 3000 and 3500m above sea level crossing multiple rocky stream beds and generally tracking the length of the incredibly scenic Dades Gorge, all in a 2WD Fiat Punto during November. As a result of a lot of prayer, patience and - dare I say it - skill? we came through in relatively good shape. Nothing that the mechanic in the next village couldn't address the next day in any case. We were of course aware all of the time that our insurance policy was not going to help us so far off road and were glad that none of the stories of lost sumps and abandoned vehicles that we were to hear of that night from our hotelier applied to us.

The Boulders Of Taliouine

One final piece of desert landscape remained for us to explore, this one in Taliouine has been made quite unique through the vision of one artist and the labours of the local fire brigade to paint huge boulders in distinct colours so that they stand out in the barren landscape. This is very effective and it was a delight to wander around in the surrounding countryside although I would't want this to be aped around the world as the natural environment seldom benefits from human "enhancement" in my opinion. We shared the experience with a couple of campers and a hundred or so goats led by their goatherd by voice commands alone.

Wonderful Shopping

By now we were back in more familiar territory to the typical Moroccan tourist as we had set aside some time at the end of the trip to relax in the beachside resorts of Agadir and Essaouira. Agadir was the pick of the two for the beach and marina although Essaouira had the more interesting town centre. Unfortunately the real winner was the wind though and beach time was not really an option. And so it was that we found ourselves in the busy metropolis of Marrakech. The central square and the surrounding medina are always full of life with snake charmers, drummers, dancers, hawkers, food stalls and shop keepers all vying for your attention. We have not proved immune to the charms of Morocco and our bags are joined by a couple of others now bulging with lamps and lanterns, knives, fossils, wooden games and boxes and all manner of wonderment! We did manage to find one place of peace amongst the hullabaloo thankfully; the lovely succulent garden and studio of an artist which has since been purchased by Yves St. Laurent and donated to the nation. Morocco would not be Morocco though without a final crazy twist, this time during our drive to the garden following the hitherto oh so trustworthy maps.me app. Keep in mind the busy streetscape you have imagined earlier in this paragraph and then imagine the two of us following progressively narrower and busier streets until it was obvious that we could not go any further as we would have been driving within the pedestrian bazaar. Decision made, all we had to do was turn around. I will leave you dear reader with the image of us slowly and gently pushing an ice cream freezer through a shop front with our trusty Punto. Incredibly the car was accepted back without a scratch on it but what a journey it took us on!

'Till next time.