Train Rome to Munich

Train Rome to Munich

Sperlonga to Munich. Sadly we had to say goodbye to our Italian and English friends and head north to Germany. As we’d travelled that path before we decided to just get ourselves on a train and go for it. Well after we’d spent the night in Rome, as there was no early train from Sperlonga to Rome we decided to stay the night there in order to catch an early train in the morning, heading straight to Munich, with a train change in Padova, would get us there late afternoon.

As we had decided to stay as close to the train station as possible we saw another side of Rome, which unfortunately  we have been seeing in almost every city in Europe. There were lots and lots of young men seemingly just ‘hanging around’.

I know train stations have always been places where one must take extra care, but the situation appears to expanded dramatically over the past few years. Felt decidedly uncomfortable even walking out of our hotel just to get a quick snack for dinner.

But these feelings were quickly left behind when we boarded our train in the morning. Excited to be heading north plus hoping for some cooler weather.

Unfortunately, the further north we went the hotter it got, but the spectacular scenery whilst the train headed up through the Brenner pass in Austria still amazed us – even though we’ve been that way before.

When we arrived in Munich in the late afternoon we found ourselves, once again, being surrounded by what the hotel clerk blatantly called ‘the refugee situation’. These young men didn’t seem threatening, but the number of them standing around the entrance and exits of the train stations did create a sense of intimidation.
Waking up in our hotel, we headed down for breakfast to be greeted by cold meat, cheese, boiled eggs, lettuce and tomatoes and lots of bread rolls. Yep, we’re back in Germany. Yeh!

Sperlonga – Italy

Sperlonga – Italy

Sperlonga!

Well we are in another picturesque medieval town on the coast of Italy. At least this one is not up on a mountain and prone to earthquakes, we hope.

The photo’s of this town and it’s beaches don’t do it justice. One of it’s main attractions for us is that it’s where the locals go not foreign tourists.

Perched on the coast between Rome and Naples it’s easy access for Italians from these cities to travel there for the weekend and many of them do as they have weekenders there.

It is not a lot dissimilar to the Amalfi Coast which is just down the road and the tourists always flood there, so Sperlonga is happy with that, which is so quiet by comparison.

Afternoons sitting in a local cafe in one of the Piazza’s eating antipasto & drinking Prosecco, looking out over the tranquil Tyrrhenian Sea, hearing only the sound of Italian spoken is heaven.

And what better way to spend a holiday in Italy than to share a house with Italians who love to cook. With our English friends braving the flight across the pond to join us, there was lots of cooking, laughter and plenty of beers and bubbles. There was even a couple of football matches, cricket and formula 1 on the TV to keep the boys out of the kitchen. Saluti!

London to Turin

London to Turin

London to Turin – or Torino as it should be called because that is what the locals call it.

We’ve got our holiday planning pretty organised, or so we thought until friends in Italy tell us that they are organised to go to Sperlonga and they want us to visit them there.

Sure, we said, when?  ’15th June, it’s all organised came the reply.’

But we are booked into Cornwall until the 15th and we can’t possibly get to Sperlonga by 15th. ‘No problem, 16th then.’

Having spoken with our English friends about flying to Italy and the dramas that came with it, we decided to use our Eurail pass and train it. Not having used the local ‘cheap’ airlines did not make us immune to the many stories passing around the difficulties entailed. Most of the time the stories were about cheap not being the operative word once all the ‘add-ons’ are loaded into the price. There are charges for everything, supposedly. Even for your carry on baggage and handbags.

Pushing that aside we booked our seats on the Eurostar and the TGV to Turin. On the 15th we drove to London – six hours – handed the car back to the rental company and stayed overnight. The last leg into London was a crawl for at least an hour so that was enough traveling for one day. Our hotel was in a very convenient district, straight across from St Pancras station, but not a place I would like to be walking around at night.

We asked the reception where we could get a quick bite to eat. She directed us to a local pub. With every wall hosting a large screen and a World Cup match in full throttle, the place was pulsating. After one beer we couldn’t get out of there fast enough. So we succumbed to eating McDonalds. First, and hopefully last, time of this trip.

Up with the birds, breakfast, showered and off the do battle with the crowds as St Pancras. Boarded the Eurostar, only to find they had changed our seats from two together to two separate places on the train. So I decided to give the Frenchies a dose of their own medicine and refused to be quiet and sit down until they reinstated our original seat booking. Which they did in the end after they tried to console me by saying ‘we know you are upset, but the train is full’. My reply – ‘I’m not upset! I’m angry – I don’t care if the train is full – get me my seat back!’ Which by some miracle, they did.

Anyway, enough of my ranting. Two and a half hours later and we were changing platforms in Paris and heading from Gare du Nord – three stops – to Gare de Lyon where we were entertained by a young chap playing one of the many pianos dotted throughout train stations in Europe.

Then on to the TGV to Turin (Torino). Arriving six hours later at 8.30 at night. And what a surprise that town – and the journey to get there – was.

After traveling for some hours through pleasant countryside in France we then entered the Alpine region of the border.

Between picturesque valleys to extremely tall bridges and motorways to long tunnels, this trip was very entertaining. Very surprised to see there was still snow on The Alps and it’s summer!

Wish we had done a bit of research about Torino before we booked only one night there. Would have stayed longer if we could have.

This city was once the Capital of Italy upon the unification in 1861 and it’s lovely architecture is reminiscent of that ira. It is still classified as the capital of the Piedmont.

Sitting in a valley, in the shadow of The Alps, it is very protected and claims to have good climate all year round.

We went for a stroll after checking into our hotel and ended up in a lively cafe with tables spread out under the wide portico, reminding us of Bolongna. After a couple of beers each and a lovely fungi pizza and plenty of entertainment, for the sum total of 26 Euro we relunctantly ambled back to our hotel as we had to be off again in the morning to Rome then on to Sperlonga. Did I mention that we love Italian trains?

Driving in UK

Driving in UK

Highways or Byways – that is the question. When traveling around UK one of the many decisions that a tourist has to make is whether to take the motorway or the country road. One of the things that depends on that decision is time, but that can also be ones downfall.
The decision to take the motorway is usually made when we have to catch a plane or ferry when leaving this picturesque country. So hopefully plenty of time has been spent traveling the byways. These A or B roads traverse the country through many a splendid village and nearly always guarantee wonderful scenery.
But if your time is limited, don’t despair. The motorways are not deprived of scenery. They often are set high above country laneways and can produce lots of eye candy. But the desperate need to arrive on time can sometimes be handicapped when traveling on a motorway. They are often called parking lots. The speed that drivers travel on these three to four lane pieces of tarmac is mind boggling for the tourist who comes from a country where one obeys the speed limits.
So if an accident happens, it happens big time. Then the traffic comes to a standstill and there is nothing anyone can do about it.
So before you decide which road to take, do your planning. Give yourself oodles of time, don’t stress, and enjoy the scenery.

Cornwall, England

Cornwall, England

View from our room. Looking across the bay to St.Austell

Cornwall revisited.

When we were given the opportunity to visit Cornwall again, we jumped at the opportunity. Our timeshare had a week available in Trenython (pronounced Tren – I – thon) Manor which fitted right into our schedule, so we were very happy.

This manor house has been refurbished and turned into a hotel with surrounding cottages for dog lovers and people who prefer a kitchen. A car is a must to visit this area as there are so many little villages tucked away on the waters edge and down narrow laneways. Speaking of narrow laneways, one does have to learn to negotiate narrow lane streets which are actually two way, roads through town that are single lane, so when a delivery driver needs to unload his goods into a shop everyone behind has to wait until he is finished – patience is the required requisite of all drivers.

Fowey

Little towns such as Mevagissey have car parks on the edge of town and visitors are requested to walk the short distance, through narrow winding streets, to the waters edge. And what did we find there? Beautiful white washed houses huddled together around a small harbour of brightly painted fishing boats.

Mevagissy

These boats are either bobbing around on the high tide or sitting solid on the floor of the bay waiting for the tide to come in. This lovely village also houses a shop selling some of the best cornish pasties. A must have when in Cornwall.

The town that is on everyones lips at the moment is Charlestown. This town has a lock to hold the water in during low tide, because its precious cargo is tall ships which are used for movies and various TV shows – Poldark being the flavour of the month right now. We heard the ‘ you should have been here yesterday’ story. Supposedly the cast were there doing filming and the fan clubs were out in force.

Fowey (pronounced Foy) is a larger town which doesn’t loose it’s water at low tide as it is fed by the Fowey River. All these towns began their life around the 1300’s and lay claim to their history of pirates or privateers as they liked to call themselves.

Besides the quaint villages that dot this coastline the whole district has many industries, not the least of which is China Clay which is mined there. This white clay is prized for its purity and has been used for fine porcelain for over 200 years. This product, called kaolin, is now being used in the pharmaceutical, paper, paint and the cosmetic industry as well. So those bitter tablets that you take with a smooth coating to make them easier to swallow are more that probably coated in kaolin from Cornwall.

Behind the township of St Austell one can see very sharp white peaks, which are man made. The locals call them ‘the Cornish Alps’. Kaolin being decomposed granite, is finer than talcum powder and does not come pure from the ground, so for every one ton produced there is five tons of waste, hence the Alps.

But Cornwall is not resting on its laurels, letting its history create the drawcard for all tourists. Two ‘must do’s’ are The Lost Gardens of Helligan and The Eden Project. These attractions go hand in hand. One should not visit one without the other.

Especially if your tour guide is David Hogg of Castle Tours. His wealth of knowledge, having been involved with both projects for many years, is immeasurable. To have a local walk you through and explain how, what, when and why brings it all to life.

I know we’ve only scratched the surface of Cornwall, didn’t even make it down to Lands End, but one can only absorb so much information and see so many sights before the brain starts screaming – ENOUGH! Give me a break – please!

Tewkesbury, Gloucestershire, England

Tewkesbury, Gloucestershire, England

Our Hotel – Tudor House

Tewskesbury is another small town on the Severn that has a large collection of medieval houses. However, rather than the protecting its heritage there is a combination of old, new and tired side by side, street by street. Some of the old tudor, and earlier, houses are the best I’ve seen. But they are littered amoungst some pre-war, post-war and new builds, none of which are very inspiring.

The population appears to be very aged, but that doesn’t appear to stop them from being out and about. Walking sticks and zithers are abundent. I felt slightly undressed to be walking without support of some kind.

We went for another ‘cruise’ on the Severn. This time a luncheon cruise of fish and chips. Big mistake. We had done a very entertaining and interesting cruise on the Severn at Shrewsbury which set the bench mark too high.

Other than having an interesting Cathedral and some remarkably old buildings, Tewkesbury didn’t do a lot for me. However, all is not lost. We stayed at the charming Tudor House Hotel with it’s lovely staff, good bar and friendly locals.

Good stop over on our way to Cornwall.

Llangollen, Wales

Llangollen, Wales

How do you pronounce Llangollan? Absolutely nothing like it is spelt – Khlan – gothlen is how the locals pronounce with a guttural intonation.

No matter how it is spelt, the setting of this Welsh country town is picturesque no matter which way you look.

Sitting high above the Dee Valley any vantage point gives you views over green pastures on rolling hills dotted with traditional white cottages, some bigger than others.

The town itself is unfortunately on the main thoroughfare of the A5 and the narrow two way main street can be a bit of a traffic jam at times. But the bike riders love it as they wind their way between the stationary cars. I booked this town believing that we would spend a quiet time in a small country town off the beaten track. How wrong we were. Either everyone had the same idea of going there to get away from it all or it is not such a great big secret after all.

One of the great attractions, beside the lovely drive there and great views is the vintage railway and the Llangollen Canal that calmly travels beside the Dee river and it’s rapids, littered with foolhardy canoeists.

We did a tour along this quietly serene canal on a day trip which culminated with a crossing over the Dee Valley on the Pontcysylite Aqueduct. I knew it was tall, but having no railing on one side and a shear drop of 38 metres into the valley below really gave this trip an added bit of excitement to end the day.

The Pontcysylite Aqueduct is the longest navigable aqueduct in Great Britain and the highest in the world and very busy when we were there. As it is one way, thank goodness there was a line up of boats waiting to cross. But I must admit everyone was very well mannered.

Llangollen CanalPontcysyllte AqueductTransport – Water – Canals

Don’t know that I would do it again and pleased that I wasn’t skippering the boat this time, but happy to be back on board a canal boat. That is one thing that we will definitely do again as soon as we can convince some other silly buggers that it’s really fun going through those locks and opening and closing those gates. I’ll do the skippering maneuvering a 60 feet long steel hull into that narrow lock – that’s the easy part, but don’t tell my unsuspecting passengers.

When in Llangollen we stayed at the Hand Hotel, another oldy worldy establishment. We’ve got so used to uneven floors, steep stairs (54 in this one), windows that barely open with centuries of paint that we’re not sure what century we are in sometimes.

Porthmadog, Wales

Porthmadog, Wales

Porthmadog (pronounced Port-Madic) in North West Wales is a seaside town which owes it’s existence to the Welsh slate mines and the trains that brought the slate down to the docks for shipment. Even though the mines are mostly closed, the town hasn’t let go of it’s trains.

With a large band of dedicated volunteers and fund raisers, the many steam trains still ply the lines up to the townships that are still surrounded by mountains of discarded slate.

This town is now a tourist resort and the steam trains carry plenty of Welsh and English tourists as well as us foreigners. The steam engines, of which there are many, were in immaculate condition being rebuilt, driven and serviced by volunteers of all ages. It was so good to see the young guys and girls in there with the older seniors teaching them the ropes.

So our first journey was from Porthmadog to Blaenau Ffestiniog, pronounced Bleni Festingyog. This town, known as the town that roofed the world, is about one and a half hours up the mountain from the coast. It’s still a reasonably busy little town and I was pleased to hear young mothers speaking Welsh to their children. In this whole area one can hear Welsh spoken as frequently as English. All street signs and in both languages.

The next day we headed further north west up to Caernarfon, prounced Carnarvan (sound familiar?). This train goes from the west coast to the north west coast through the most picturest valleys, surrounded by the mountains of Snowdonia, to end up next to the huge Caernarfon Castle. This castle, built in the 1200’s and never completed, was where Charles was crowned Prince of Wales.

Staying at the Royal Sportsman Hotel is exactly as the name implies, full of golfers. There was even a group from America that came over to play the famous Porthmadog golf course with it’s fabulous views over Snowdonia.

For a steam train enthusiast this town is a dream come true.

Burford to Shrewsbury

Burford to Shrewsbury

Burford to Shrewsbury was supposed to be a two hour journey. We woke up to a rainy day, just the perfect time to leave town. Had spent the last few days saying fond farewells to great friends, one such day including a movie afternoon at a friends house. Such a great idea, don’t know why we don’t do them at home. Lots of food, lots of laughs and great entertianment. We watched Whisky Galore – great movie. After getting our washing done, packing up and checking the route to Shrewsbury we were convinced we had it all sussed. What we didn’t take into account was the over night rain which left the roads very slippery and the low hanging mist added gloom to my ability to read road signs far enough in advance.

What England regards as normal, we found difficult to understand until we got adjusted to the fact that there are just so many more cross roads in UK than Australia. What I’m talking about is the round abouts which are everywhere, including on the motor ways. No sooner does one creep out of the town, onto the local B road to slip onto the M motorway as one is confronted with a roundabout and sometimes a double roundabout. You have to be vigilant to ensure you are in the correct lane to be able to extract oneself at the correct exit without suddenly having to change lanes within the roundabout and confuse not only yourself but every other driver in the adjoining lanes. If you change lanes you don’t have to place the sign ‘tourist’ on your back window – they know.

The other issue that confronted us was that the navigator wanted us to take the toll road, but we didn’t know if we should or could or how the system worked. One bit of prior research we had stupidly skipped. So whenever we ignored her instructions to exit the roundabout onto the M6 toll road and carried on to the adjoining A road her sweet voice spent the next 10 minutes trying to find a side road to turn us around to get us ‘back on track’.
But despite all our protestations about too much reliance on computerised navigation, we got there. The truth of the matter is, it is hard to get lost in UK. If you miss the right turn, there is sure to be another just down the road that will get you there as well, albiet a minute later, or sometimes maybe two.
Once we arrived in the medieval town of Shrewsbury, the birthplace of Charles Darwin, we then had to navigate the old one way narrow streets to find our hotel. This time we gave our navigater her head and she landed us right at our front door. Even though we had passed within a couple of metres of our hotel a couple of times we couldn’t turn into the one way street until we had almost circled the inner town area twice. But the feeling of stepping back in time was well worth the tour. 14 & 15th century rambling houses leaning into the streets with their black, brown and white frames and lead light windows.
So we’re staying in Oliver’s place, a 15th Century old pub, with sloping floors, doors we have to duck to get through and panelled walls – just oozing with old world charm. Of course it’s called Cromwell’s.

Shrewsbury to Porthmadog

Shrewsbury to Porthmadog

Well didn’t I feel a fool when answering an enquiry at the bar ‘where to next?’ No not Porth-mad- dog, it’s Port-madic. Why? no-one knows.

Shrewsbury to Porthmadog was always going to be an interesting drive as we had to go over the mountain range no matter which route we took.

Not to be outsmarted by our navigator, we wrote down which roads we wanted to take.  Made sure none of them started with the letter B and had no more than three numbers. With the plan sorted we headed off and promptly ended on the wrong road within minutes. Back tracking we then took the right turn and got onto the A5, which is where we intended to be.

The way roads are marked in UK is very self descriptive. M is for motorways which are mostly four lanes each way and generally full of frustrated drivers sitting in stationary traffic. The next best is A roads with only one number after the letter. The less the numbers the bigger the road. When the navigator wants to turn you down a road that is a B with four numbers such as B4204, don’t go there. It will probably be two way but only one car width with high hedges both sides, so you don’t see the oncoming tractor until you are almost on it, and farmers don’t drive small tractos nor do they drive slow.

So up and over the range we went on reasonably wide two way roads and dry stone walls stacked on both sides. Some of the towns required pulling over as parked cars made the drive through town one way. But don’t the bike riders love it, both motor and peddles. Being a nice sunny day they were out in force.

We really knew we had arrived in North West Wales when we come over a rise and were surpised by the instant change of scenery. From lush green hills and valleys to dark grey hills made by slate caste offs from the many slate mines and quarries that this area is renowned for.

And yes the navigator did take us on the windiest and longest way over the top, but the scenery was spectacular.

Shrewsbury, Shropshire, England

Shrewsbury, Shropshire, England

Costa Coffee Cafe inside medieval building

Shrewsbury in Shropshire District is an interesting town that I really hadn’t considered visiting other than as a stop over point between The Cotswolds and North West Wales.

Being the home of Charles Darwin it boasts an exceptional school called the Shrewsbury Sixth Form College whose fees are mind blowing. One mention was that one wouldn’t get any any change out of 45,000GBP for term fees. Ouch!

 

The medieval township of Shrewsbury has grasped the modern and the old. The old black timber framed buildings which were originally filled with white wattle and daub infills to lean precariously over the streets as each floor gets larger as the building goes up.

The town also boasts an interesting round church, St Chads. A very pretty town and lovely gardens. And of course there is a castle.

We cruised the river Severn which at 220 miles (354 km) is about the longest in UK starting in the mountains of Wales, traveling east in England and then back south west. The old township of Shrewsbury sits within an almost closed loop of the river. So a cruise takes you from the west of the town around the the east and back again.

 

The old brewery turned into up market apartments

The accents are thick with some words sounding almost Welsh with a very sing song style.

It brings to mind that Moccona commercial.  They say ‘Highyah’ rather than hello. Very pleased we chose this place for a stop over.

Burford in the Cotswolds

Burford in the Cotswolds

The Neighbours

Our first two weeks have passed and we are almost ready to pack our bags and leave Burford. We’ve been down the pub, eaten and drank and laughed with the locals, but the subject is still the same as when we left two years ago – Brexit. It still splits the nation. It’s almost becoming a taboo subject unless one is prepared for a heated argument.

Shakespears went to College here as the son of the towns Mayer.

Went for a drive up to Stratford upon Avon. Interesting town but a bit over marketed. Busy cashing in on being the home of Shakespeare and his wife Anne Hathaway. Plenty of tourists, nice drive through The Cotswolds to get there, but there are plenty more interesting towns in England that I would visit before going there again.
Speaking of driving through the Cotswolds, doesn’t matter where you go the scenery is beautiful.

Main street Burford.

When we drive from small hamlet to country town what I see is lovely houses, beautiful gardens, bountiful farms and lots of money. But no ostentatiousness (is there such a word). Just gentile country folks who like their Jags and their dogs.

An aside note for the girls, as we left Australia at the end of summer and arrived here at he beginning of spring I’ve noticed there is little change in their fashion to ours. Even the boys haircuts are the same, short back and sides longer on top.

Went to Oxford to do some shopping and visited their brand new shopping centre. Absolutely lovely with lots of clear roof over the central arcade sections and all the restaurants are on the roof with spectacular views over Oxford and all it’s chapels. Don’t think we have anything like that in Aus. The locals are divided whether it belongs or not. There is always those who don’t like change and their idea of change is from one century to the next. Not years or decades like ours.

The Cotswolds and surrounding areas love their quirky, but descriptive, town names, Morton in Marsh, Chipping Norton, Chipping Camden, Stratford upon Avon, Stow-on-the-Wold, Bourton-on-the-Water and the list goes on. And one of (the many) things that I do like is the unique and parochial nature of the local stores. Chain stores are for the cities.

Singing fruit!

As to food the English still love their Indian curries and their Chinese restaurants. We went with friends to a lovely Asian restuarant with a various menu and when the evening was over the owner presented us with a platter of (silent) singing fruit as a surprise.

We were also invited to two dinners which clashed. It was a hard choice as both were offering a great Indian curry for dinner, but the one that won was walking distance as opposed to the other that required driving. No contest really. The other thing that influenced our decision of where to eat was that the invite was from our landlord whose wife was Australian. Had to ask the question ‘what’s nice girl from Reservoir doing in a place like this?’. Answer was simple of course – ‘came here for a gap year & met Barry’ – end of story.

London to Burford

London to Burford

After three days in London we picked up our hire car from St Pancras so we could drive to The Cotswolds. Went through the usual deal, pay more, we can upgrade you, can do a much better deal than the one you’ve booked… Blah! Blah! blah! Please just take our money and give us a car. After much tooing and froing we ended up with a Skoda Rapid, nice four door auto with sat nav. And no it’s not pronounced Raapid as we Aussies would, it’s pronounce Repiiid.

London now has a congestion tax of £11 in the CBD and the road we were using to leave London skirts the boarder of the CBD for most of the way out of the city. Great advice from the rental car staff was  ‘don’t turn left’.

Managed to crawl our way out of town, onto M40 then crawl past Oxford to arrive at our destination right on time.

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2018 Brisbane to London

2018 Brisbane to London

It’s 2018 and we’re off for another adventure. All packed, with only one suitcase between two of us this time and one carry on. Got the art of packing sorted. Out the door, walk to tram, transfer to train, exit to international terminal. And that’s where the fun stops, almost. Transiting through security is so smooth now, no forms to fill out. Flying Emerites for first time. Very impressed. Staff great, seats comfortable. But nothing and no-one will convince me that 21 hours in the air, plus plane change on the way is in anyway comfortable. Plane travel just isn’t for me. I like to look out the window and see scenery. But we will live in the great southern continent, cut off from the rest of the world. Growing up in the best country in the world does have one or two draw backs.
Landed in London on bright clear day, albiet a bit chilly, hopped Piccadilly line on local train to Barens Court. Checked into our W14 Hotel in Kensington which is a combination of three Georgian terraced houses renovated into a modern hotel, but still contained our first reminder of the age of buildings in UK. Small steep stairs and no lift. So as we dragged our suitcase up from ground floor to our room on second floor I took a mental note to check out this problem with our other accommodation.
As we had spent sufficient time in London before we chose to forgo the requesit ‘must do’s’ in London. Day one we went to Camden Markets, hopped a narrow boat and took a leisurely trip up the river to Little Venice and back. A little reminder of the many many canals wriggling their way around London, once the main form of transporting goods to London Dock.
Day two with another sunny day saw us hopping the District Line to Kew Gardens to check out the newly reopened Temperate Pavillian which has been under renovation for the last five years. This glorious structure, designed by Decimus Burton and opened for the first time in 1863, has been stripped out, stripped down to bare metal, reglazed, repainted and now replanted with 1,500 plant species from the temperate regions of the world which includes Australia and New Zealand.

It’s our last day in London so was very pleased to spend it relaxing, rather than the usual ‘hitting the ground running’.

The gardens themselves were a picture of new season growth and blossoms and plenty of wildlife.

Met up with a squirrell who thought I was bringing him lunch and a peacock who thought that he could hide amoungst the bluebells.

All said and done it was just what I needed after waking up with the a heavy cold. No suprise after being stuck in a tin can full of coughing passengers and and screaming kids for hours on end.

Paris

Paris

Arc de Triomphe

We settled into our apartment two blocks south of the Champs Elysees and we set off for a wander late in the afternoon. Weather was crisp but pleasant enough for an evening stroll.  We discovered that our street starts opposite the Lido and ends at the Seine opposite the Eiffel Tower. So with a bright sunny day next day we did what seemed like every other person in Paris was doing. Strolled from the Arch de Triomphe down to the Eiffel Tower.
Did the obligatory hop-on-hop-off bus. Well thank goodness we walked all day the day before because for the next three days it rained and rained and rained. As you know when it rains in a city it’s miserable. So what does one do when it’s raining – go shopping of course!

Nothing beats Paris for class when it comes to exclusive department stores – London may have Harrods but Paris has so many exceptional high class department stores that they make David Jones and Myer look like Kmart. Stores such as Printemps, Galeries Lafayette, Le Bon Marche and BHV. Parisians might go there to by their Hermes scarfs or Louis Vuitton handbags – but the most attractive thing about these stores is the architecture. The best advice I can give a tourist is keep your hands in your pockets and just absorb the ambience of the buildings. Don’t get me wrong – I did spend money – bought the most expensive coffee in Paris in Printemps’ idsy bitsy cafe on the second floor. And the coffee came out of a push button vending machine and it was shit. Very disappointing.

Stopped at the multi level Virgin Super store on the Champse Elysse on the way home just because we could. Had thought about buying a new mini keyboard for the computer – and when we looked at their keyboards we discovered that what we regard as standard – the QWERTY keyboard is not the case. Various countries of the world have their own versions depending on what language they speak. Frances keyboard is AVERTY. The keys are in different positions on the board. So buying a QWERTY board in France is nigh on impossible.

It’s Monday and all the Pommy tourists that have snuck over on the Eurostar for a dirty weekend in Paris have all gone home – and – voila the sun is shining again. Do you think the Frenchies are trying to tell them something? Took a stroll down the Champs, across the Place de la Concorde with thousands of Aussies and Yanks to the Louvre.  That glass pyramid amazes me. Spent hours strolling through hall after hall of their amazing collection of artefacts and paintings – and of course had to check out the Mona Lisa – sorry still don’t get it. I acknowledge he was a great artist – huge talent – but why do the hoards flock to that one little painting when there are so many amazing works hanging on every wall that they hurry on past. If I lived in Paris I would have to take out a yearly pass, and visit it every weekend, to have a hope of seeing the vast exhibition this museum has to offer. We paid 11 Euro each to get in today – hate to think what it would be like on a Sunday when the entry is free.

Anyway after going shopping with JLo today am just plumb warn out. Gotta get some sleep lots to do and so little time to do it in.

L’Etang la Ville, France

L’Etang la Ville, France

Our French abode

Saturday saw us all packed and heading off the St. Pancreas station to catch the Eurostar across to Paris.  Had already done a trip by the underground, without our luggage, during the week to be sure we knew where we were going.  So off we headed full of confidence only to discover our local station “closed for track maintenance”.  Hmmph!  TAXI!  Had our first ride in a London cab – which I suppose we had to do before leaving town and it cost only marginally more than two tickets through two train zones – two platform changes and numerous flights of stairs.  So we arrived at St Pancreas in plenty of time.  Pleased we had booked first class seats with table (thanks to advice on website “seat61”).  Left sunny London – into tunnel – out the other side in a cold wet and miserable France.

The neighbours

The King’s hunting ground when he visited Versailles

Not to be put off we headed off to our first accommodation in the wonderful little village half an hour just outside Paris called L’Etang la Ville.  Had booked a room in a private house through “airbnb”.  Turns out our hosts are and Aussie Opera singer Louise Canninan from Brisbane and British Opera singer husband Rodney Earl Clarke.  Despite the rain, the house the village and district were picture perfect.  Spent a couple of days walking, bussing & training to local areas.  We’ve decided if we move to France the neighbouring town of St Germain en Laye is where we want to will live.  Unfortunately it is also where all the richest of the rich Parisians live.  Beautiful town with all the best shops overlooked by castles with huge gardens.  Palace of Versailles isn’t the only mansion in town. It’s up in the hills west of Paris.  You can see Paris spread out beneath you from some vantage points.

One disparaging thing is that we sat down at a cafe to have a coffee and it must have been a break in school as a whole bunch (probably about twenty) young girls and boys  (about 14/15 years of age) were enjoying their espressos and every one of them was smoking.  But despite the fact that the French still smoke as much as ever, they do it as they do everything else – with class.

London

London

Well there were more things to do in London than there were hours in the day to do them.  We had various kinds of weather from cold rain to hot sunny.  When the clouds blow away and the sun comes out it is amazing how fast the Brits head off to Hyde Park, strip off and bask in the sun.We’ve hopped on & off busses; cruised the Thames, walked and walked and walked, visited the Queen (who wasn’t home), joined the madding throng at the Changing of the Guard  and went ‘one more time ‘round Piccadilly Circus’  before heading off to the West End to see the show Jersey Boys.   This is my third visit to London over the last 20 years and despite having  just had the Olympics games there didn’t seem many signs of change. Don’t get me wrong – the city has had changes which stand out quite dramatically which include the Gherkin, the Shard and of course the London Eye.

Another striking change is that London cabs are not black any more- they are now every shade of the rainbow and covered with advertising.  Such a pity to see this British icon joining the marketing industry and becoming a never ending billboard.

On a lighter note – even though we are in a city with all its concrete and stone, flowers of every colour of the rainbow are everywhere.  In window boxes, hanging from lamp posts, in wire baskets next to front doors.  Pansies, petunias, geraniums, cyclamen, lobelia, tulips, polyanthus and lots more varieties – all beautifully colour coordinated and displayed.  It’s as if the whole city attended gardening classes together where they learnt “how to design the best autumn displays”.  Especially the high class hotels.  You’d think there was a competition running.

We also played a game of ‘spot the Pom’.  Wherever we went, to the shops – the trains- the busses or just walking down the street we listened to the conversations going on around us.  And do you think we could hear any British accents.  They were either French, Russian, American, Australian or Kiwi.  I think the Brits must have seen us coming and headed for the hills.

London here we come!

London here we come!

Time to leave Burford so us and a couple of million other commuters drove into London with clear skies and a hot day.  We were stripping off the layers the closer we got.  Checked into our unit and found where all the police are – they are walking the streets booking everyone in sight.  Whilst we were unloading our bags in a legal loading zone we were asked three times by various parking officers how long we were going to be.

So without a moment of regret we handed the car back to the rental company and began the rest of our journey on foot – and bus – and train – and maybe boat if we can.

Talking of parking cars, they have a very good system here.  You can park facing any way you want.  Often in narrow streets you can only park on one side of the road which keeps the traffic flowing without having to weave in and out of parked cars.  Also if you have a smart car it’s even better. 

Sunday saw us and most of London in Hyde Park enjoying the sun.  Walked from Kensington through Hyde Park to Buck Palace – on to Trafalgar Square to say high to Horatio, then on to Covent Garden’s markets.  Whew – tired, warn out and exhausted we went back to Charing Cross station – bought an Oyster Card and hopped the double decker red bus back home to Kensington.  In all that we missed the changing of the guard.  Well we’ll see that another day.

The ceiling in Harrods food hall

It’s Monday now and raining so it’s indoors touristing today.  Harrods sounds good – and it’s just around the corner.

Burford

Burford

The Mill Stream

Main Street, Burford

With a beautiful autumn sunny day we packed our bags and headed south to the beautiful Cotswolds arriving about 4.00pm.  Our accommodation here is the refurbished Burford old mill.  We are on the second floor above the water fall overlooking the surrounding houses and mill stream.  Burford Churchyard was the scene on 17 May 1649 where three soldiers were executed on Oliver Cromwell’s orders. They belonged to a movement popularly known as the Levellers, with beliefs in civil rights and religious tolerance.

Burford (voted England’s most perfect place to live by Forbes Magazine),has a very pretty High Street, which is unusual for towns of this vintage.  Most towns are built around the main square.   After wandering the main street we turned into our street & decided to stop off at the local pub (one of many in town) for a pint on our way home.  Well! That was our intention anyway.  Seems every man AND his dog decided to do the same thing.  Got caught up meeting and chatting with locals whilst stepping over their sleeping dogs.  Several hours later we ambled home.  One of the many interesting guys we met, Robert Burnside, was in the same trade as Ken’s father and his father and his father before him – shoe making.  Robert makes winkle pickers.  www.19-60.com – ex Succhi ex Giorgio Ferrari.  Needless to say the conversation included words like lasts, clickers, hides etc.  After more than one pint we all rambled off to our various abodes to get some well earned rest so we can start scouring this famous country side.

Sunday – it’s raining!  Hmm wonder what time the pub opens?

Monday still raining but none the less we headed off to Bath.  It’s a beautiful city with its grand Georgian architecture.  Did the obligatory red bus tour (only two couples on bus so had personalised tour) then walked around city and across the Putney Bridge.  Love the curved streets with the curved house facades to match.

Our local

Fig clinging to side of building

Whilst meandering our way home we found an Aldi – YEH!!!  Did a week’s shopping – butter, yoghurt, fruit, veggies, juice, bread, cereal, meat etc. plus a bottle of wine for £28.00, really brings home how much we get ripped off in Australia.  So before settling down to cooking, we wandered to the end of the street, to our local, for a pint.

Mid West England

Mid West England

Having organised to visit a friend today we decided to take the long way around – as one does when on holidays.  Driving from St Annes our first port of call was Liverpool to do the Beatles thing – or Beatles experience they call it there.  Like Newcastle NSW Australia- the foreshore of the river Mersey, which was once heavy industry is now being reinvented.  Old disused factories turning into smart apartments and a huge new entertainment centre has been built.  But there are times when they just shouldn’t mess with the important things, wanting to catch the “Ferry Cross the Mersey” – our navigator  went via a tunnel under the river.  Now you drive along and £1.50 later you pop out on the other side.  Hmmmph!

Next port of call was Chester – now there’s a remarkable town.  Drove into town, down into the first car park we saw, walk into the shopping centre above and asked the attendant at the information desk where the beautiful Tudor buildings were that this town was famous for.  He looked at me as if I was mad and nodded to over my shoulder.  If I had turned around before asking I would has seen a magic street of well maintained stylish black and white buildings.  Just gorgeous.  Sorry Clitheroe but Chester has stolen my heart.

Drove further on down, crossing into Wales and the land was getting flatter the further south we went – but still pretty as a picture everywhere we go.  Headed back to have a great afternoon with our friend including a visit to a local micro-brewery. Eventually we had to head home so we tucked some bottles into our car and competed with the locals in the afternoon rush hour.  When the traffic is so congested that it gets down to 40mph or even to a standstill they are not happy chappies.

Thursday night saw “goin doon tu tha lucul fa a pint”.  And that’s exactly what they did.  The old pub called ‘Taps’ with its wooden floor and bare brick walls had so many types of beer on tap it was hard to choose.  With a pint in our hand we tucked ourselves into a corner table and watched as a continuous flow of locals came in, had a pint, chatted, then left.  Interestingly enough there were no youngies – average age of well dressed business men and women would be about 50.

North West England

North West England

The ‘beach’ in Blackpool covered in jokes.

So we’re packing up in Scotland and shipping out.  Well driving actually.  After filling up the tank at $2.24 a litre for diesel with 7% bio we said goodbye to Edinburgh and decided to head to Glasgow.  It’s only 40 miles.  Well Edinburgh might be the capital and where the parliament is but Glasgow is the industry, the high rises, the hub bub of a big noisy city.  We drove out of there as fast as we could and headed south through the Lakes District and on to our next stop at St Annes on the west coast.  The scenery on the way was far more appealing to the eye.  Pleased we hadn’t planned to stay in Glasgow.

The beach side towns of Lytham, St Annes, Clifton & Blackpool are all side by side each other as you travel down the coast and couldn’t be more unalike.  They range from Lytham, lovely up market leafy suburb on to Blackpool, full of its roller coaster, Ferris wheel, casinos, night clubs, fish & ship shops and every other type of shop you expect to see at a carnival – including fairy floss stalls.

We feel we’ve stepped back in time.  Even our apartment is in a time warp with floral Axminster carpet, chintz curtains and frills on our pillows. There’s even a bone handled bread knife that has to be 100 years old in the kitchen draw.

Headed off to Marks & Spencer or M&S as they call themselves now, to stock up on groceries and found most the refrigerated section full of prepared meals – or TV dinners as we used to call them.  Bit sad. Found groceries in general a bit cheaper than at home but the choices more limited – and of course no Vegemite to be seen.

Hopped up early next morning and headed out of town to just drive around the country side.  Went to the local Booths to stock up on a few groceries before hand and found some Vegemite.  Yeh!  Guess what I’m having on my toast in the morning.  Food prices here a reasonable.  Australian wine is cheaper here than in Australia.  Beer varieties are endless.  They definitely have less brands on the shelves.  I would say less American products.  More local products – which is good.

Anyway enough of the housekeeping.  Headed off to Clitheroe after being given some advice from our host about the local butcher there.  And it was well worth the journey.  What a beautiful town.  I would say it is the quintessential English village – without all the touristy stuff.  Lovely buildings, local shops AND it has a castle – albeit voted the most smallest castle – but it’s a castle.

Headed home a different way driving on “A” roads.  Meaning narrow with hedges on both sides – didn’t slow the school buses and the trucks down though.  Everyone drives here so fast.  When out on the motorways or “M” roads the speed limit is 70 mph – that’s 112 kilometres per hour.  We put the cruise control on 70 mph and get into the left lane – watching everyone drive past us like we are standing still.  I would guarantee some cars go past us at over 200 kph.

Heading off to see Blackpool’s Illumination tonight where the streets are decorated with 711,000 kilograms of lighting.

Day trip from Edinburgh

Day trip from Edinburgh

It’s our last day in Scotland.  Definitely have to come back and spend more time so we can go further north, but will save that for a better time of the year when it’s not so cold.  Headed off this morning taking the coast road around Fife after crossing the Firth of Forth on a huge bridge.  Travelled up to Dundee – didn’t stop for a game of golf at St. Andrews as the wind was so strong any ball moving more than two feet off the ground would have ended up in the North Sea.  Dundee was interesting but big – owes its history to the jute industry and whaling.

Someone likes their Whisky

Drove on from there to Perth.  The smaller the towns get the more appealing they are.  Had to follow my nose on to Crieff a very pretty town as well as being the home of The Famous Grouse Whiskey (my favourite at the time).  After an interesting distillery tour we hopped back into the car (with a bottle tucked under my arm) headed back to Edinburgh via Stirling from the west completing the loop.  Quite and easy and pleasant days drive.

What’s the difference between Scottish Whisky and Irish Whiskey? The “e”.

Edinburgh Scotland

Edinburgh Scotland

After visiting The Royal Yacht Britannia we then travelled on to Holyroodhouse (huh! Since when did a castle become a house?).  It’s the Queen’s residence when she is in Scotland, and of course no visit to Edinburgh is complete without a visit to Edinburgh Castle.  We covered these three in a huge two days, but the Scots sure have their act together when it comes to getting tourists sorted out.  From the centre of the city we boarded the hop on hop off bus, which was a chosen mode of transport in every city we visited in order to orientate us with the city. These buses do various loops of the city covering all the major attractions.  Different coloured buses for the different tour.  One ticket covers them all. 

The Grass Markets, named because only grass fed animals were sold there in its heyday (pun intended) was very quiet.  It is now used a very popular spot for the younger crowd, after dark, probably due to the amount of pubs aligning the area.

Was keen to get some of my ancestors tartan but the prices were a little bit over the top.

Architecture in Edinburgh is mainly sandstone buildings from the very modern back to Gothic era and beyond.  Very attractive city with stacks of appeal.  Could easily stay here longer.  The girl who works in the souvenir shop at Holyroodhouse comes from Newcastle Australia.  She came for a holiday five years ago and is still here.  The history is amazing with so many famous people coming from here no wonder the English wanted it so much.

And what was it that the Scots were complaining about the most?  Was it the weather, the cost of living, world health?  No! It was that ultra modern new Parliament Building.  It’s just not right! One said.  Doesn’t belong here!  Although I admire modern architecture, I must agree it a little out of place.

Does it rain in Scotland?

Does it rain in Scotland?

Monday saw us pack our bags and head north from Hartlepool to Scotland on a beautiful sunny day.  Quite amazed by the changes of scenery from the rolling hills to the larger broader hills of the northern coast.  Driving is pretty simple, but I am so pleased we brought our navigator with us.  There are so many round abouts and you have to enter them in the correct lane as it’s the only one that exits where you need to go.  Once you understand the system you’re fine. Didn’t upset too many locals before we got the hang of it. There’s a Tyne tunnel so we didn’t have to go through Newcastle again – just into the tunnel on the south side and popped out heading off to Scotland on the other.

Arrived in Leith, Edinburgh about 2’sh.  As it was so nice we decided to walk down the road to get some grocery shopping done as we are staying in a self contained unit.  A very nice one overlooking a river, quite near the ocean terminal where the royal yacht Britannia is moored.

Did I mention the weather?  Well we had a very quick wake-up call that we were in Scotland.  We walked into a Asda supermarket bright and sunny, got our shopping done and walked out into cold, wet miserable rain –and – the car was back at our unit a good 15 minute walk back.  Tried to hop a bus only to be put off at the next stop as it wasn’t going our way. So arrived back at our apartment a pair of drowned rats.  Thank goodness our apartment has double glazing and is very warm inside.   Nice to be able to have a place to ourselves.  Settled down after warm shower and dry clothes with a note to oneself  ‘don’t be complacent about the weather in Scotland.’

Good English Breakfast to Cod, Chips & a Bit of Butty for Dinner

Good English Breakfast to Cod, Chips & a Bit of Butty for Dinner

After being served a Good English Breakfast at our B&B – bacon, egg, tomato, baked beans & sausages – washed down with a pot of tea – we headed south down the coast to Whitby. The town had lots of character and charm, but was overrun with tourists who were visiting all the touristy shops that the beautiful old buildings had been turned into.

Couldn’t get out of town fast enough.  Kept heading south to Scarborough, very pleasant beach area on the north side, but again the original township has been turned into one great big amusement parlour.  So we drove around and didn’t even get out of the car.  Headed west towards York but it was running and a bit late so got as far as Malton then turned north to drive up inland.  Passed through some lovely country side and beautifully maintained old stone villages.  Much more interesting.

On our return journey the navigator told us to turn off a perfectly good motorway into an industrial area.  We followed it dutifully thinking it must be a shortcut.  We came to a dead end with an enormous high bridge with a gondola hanging underneath it.  There were no cars waiting and the gondola wasn’t moving, so we turned around to head back to the motorway.  Ever tried to tell a navigator that you don’t know where you’re going but you don’t want to go that way.  Turns out the bridge “The Tees Transporter Bridge” was closed for renovation, but the navigator wasn’t told.

When we arrived back in Hartlepool in the early evening we strolled down the beach front to the local fish & chip shop The Almighty Cod for dinner.  We figured it must be good as there was a queue out the door and down the street.  When we were almost at the head of the queue we asked the couple in front if they could recommend what to buy.  Without hesitation, in their broad Hartlepool accent, they said ‘O I yu’ll ave cod & chuups an a bit u butty’. Didn’t know what the butty was but we decided to give it a go.  Before they left they put our order in for us and for ten pounds we had two of the biggest serves of fish & chips with the scraps of batter that they scoop off the top of the oil on top, two slices of white butter bread (butty) drowned in large splashes of vinegar and salt.   We went sat on a seat at the beach while the sun started to settle behind us to enjoy our meal.  Incidentally, we only made it through one serving.  The second one went into the freezer for another day.

Hartlepool

Hartlepool

Drove down to Hartlepool – pronounced Hart-le-pool.  Great b&b facing the water.  Lovely pub next door which had great steaks.  Hartlepool is a combination of a little seaside resort surrounded by heaps of heavy industry.  Another wind farm was under construction just off shore in the North Sea.  Seems very logical place to put them.  England is suffering just like us with soaring electricity prices and unsustainable fossil fuel burning power stations they were buying the electricity from Russia when we were there.

There a local legend about hanging a monkey.  Which leads on to another story which must be told.

A French ship was wrecked off the coast back during the Napoleonic Wars and no locals had ever seen a Frenchman.  The only survivor was the ships mascot a pet monkey.  He was found wandering along the beach dressed in his sailors uniform.  As no one could understand him they assumed his screeches when captured that he was speaking French.  So seeing that the Brits were at war with the French they hanged him.

But the legend doesn’t end there.  In 2002 the local elections were on for town mayor.  The local football team had a mascot whose costume is a monkey suit.  This monkey ran for mayor on the platform that he’ll give every child a banana.  Well, he got elected didn’t he and again in 2005 and 2009 and he almost kept his promise.  As there was not enough bananas schools were supplied with fresh fruit for a year for free.

 

Amsterdam to Newcastle

Amsterdam to Newcastle

We are on the DFDS ferry which is more like a cruise liner, sitting in the Commodores Lounge sipping champagne, sucking on olives and other delicacies and heading out to the sea through a forest of wind generators and the many large ships lining up to enter the port of Ijmuiden .

The Commodore Lounge is worth every penny.  Endless supply of food and drinks.  Very private lounge at the pointy end of the ship, affording great views.  So instead of standing in the endless lines at the cafes or restaurants to buy food and drinks we had a great night drinking & chatting with fellow passengers to then later retire to our ensuited bedroom with huge double bed, lounge and large window. Well worth paying the extra dollars for the silver service and luxury cabin. We had calm seas so we’re in for a smooth crossing.

We sailed into Newcastle early in the morning, sitting admiring the view from our lounge after a delightful breakfast and another fine day.  After lots of help and advice from fellow Commodore Class passengers we were pointed in the right direction to pick up our hire car. Every person we have met have been so nice & helpful. The ferry crossing alone was an adventure in itself.

 

Amsterdam Rijksmuseum

Amsterdam Rijksmuseum

We went to the Riejksmuseam knowing The Night Watch was there.  Spent the whole morning admiring the brilliant Rembrant paintings one after the other and began to imagine that maybe I was wrong, when – last room – just before the “shop” was this great room with that great gobsmackingly beautiful, intricate and large painting, sitting alone in a room by itself, pride of place as it should be.  Well worth the wait.

After leaving the museum we crossed the road and took a stroll down Pieter Cornelisz Hooftstraat to discover a street with every top designer shop imaginable.  Even the shop fronts were a vision of delight – couldn’t imagine what would have greeted us if we could have afforded to walk inside.

Then to top things off  at the end of the street we ended up entering Vondelpark a wonderful park with great lakes, bird life so we sat and had a coffee sitting by the lake – very relaxing before having to head back to our hotel to pick up our luggage and head off to catch the ferry coach to Ijmuiden where we will board the ferry to Newcastle.

Amsterdam Windmills

Amsterdam Windmills

After an enjoyable breakfast of fresh orange juice, tea/coffee toast, cheese, ham, boiled egg, jams etc we decided to take off for Saans to see the wind mills.  Well they say you can’t stop progress and even historical buildings don’t stand still here in Holland.  Since the last time I was here they have built three new windmills – but not new in the true sense.  With the help of plans drawn up over a century ago they have replicated mills that had been demolished when wind power became obsolete after the invention of electricity.  Now a new generation is learning the ancient craft of windmill construction and the skills required to carve the timber entirely by hand.

These new mills, which look like they are a few hundred years old are built by a not for profit foundation who then lease them out to businesses who work them. For example the timber cutting mill makes bespoke logs which they sell all over the world, particularly to renovators who need to match existing timbers.  The mill can cut to any size you want. They are not controlled by standardisation.  What they lack in speed they make up for in service.

So after this cultural expedition we just had to head to Liedseplein to soak up some beer and wine culture.  The atmosphere is great and just the right place to wind down.  Back to our hotel for an early night because as we are going to the Reijcksmuseum tomorrow!

Amsterdam

Amsterdam

 

As we flew into Amsterdam I think I was just beginning to realise that our holiday was about to begin.  It was really happening.  For some reason our suitcases are about the last to come out.  Stress over, through quarantine and we head out the door, and of course it’s raining!  I smile and pretend I can’t notice it and head for the bus stop armed with my printed out directions of our hotel and what bus number we had to catch.  Within seconds our bus number pulls up and I show the driver where we want to go and he waves us to across the road.  That bus was going in the opposite direction.  Great start.  Next driver was very helpful and tells us when to get off and there is our hotel, right across the road from the Rijksmuseum.

Now we did read the reviews about this hotel and it was everything that everyone said.  The staff was nice, rooms were comfortable and quiet and breakfast was adequate.  But nothing can prepare you for the steepest set of stairs I have ever seen.  I stayed down the bottom with the suitcases as Hubby went up to check in.  After about five minutes he appears back at the door with the manager in tow who grabbed our suitcases and trotted up the stairs like he’s going for and afternoon stroll.

By the time we had our bags stowed I was dragging Hubby out the door to do some sightseeing.  The weather had fined up which was great, so with my newly acquired map – or plan as they are called in Europe we headed into the heart of the old town of Amsterdam.    Hubby and I approached this in two different ways.  I’m as keen as hell to see as much as I can as fast as I can and he wants to stop and look at everything – smell the roses so to speak.  So the first day consisted of us coming to terms with each other’s wants and needs and finding a middle ground.

It didn’t take long for the pressure of the last couple of days travelling to take its toll.  So after walking as far as we thought we should go we turned around and strolled back, picking up a guide book at the Tourist Information Office on the way.  We then found a delicatessen or what we call a deli, and bought our first European snack; meat, cheese and bread and headed back to our room for a rest.  We passed on the red wine as it was only 11.00 in the morning.  After devouring our very tasty snack we brushed the bread crumbs off our beds and crashed.  We had our best couple of hours sleep that we had had for two days. All re-energised we left our hotel at about 2.30pm for some more adventure.  Being so close to the heart of everything was wonderful as we could just walk where ever we wanted to go.

As we walked through the cobbled streets and over bridges in the old city it wasn’t the beautifully painted canal boats that had us spellbound, it was the number of push bikes.  We did know that most people in Amsterdam rode bikes to work, but that didn’t prepare us for the amount of bikes there were.  Not only does every one ride bikes in Amsterdam, bikes have priority.  They have their own lanes on either side of the roads where cars and pedestrians enter at their own peril.  The traffic lights have four signals.  One for cars, one for trams, one for bikes and if you’re lucky one for pedestrians.  Next to the central railway station there is a multi-story parking station only for bikes and it is packed.  There are literally thousands and thousands of bikes parked there each day.

During our time in Amsterdam we saw mums and dads whose bikes had two or three children sitting in a bucket type compartment on the front of their bikes on their way to school as well as men and women in suits with their briefcases in the front basket attached to the handle bars.  There definitely wasn’t any Lycra to be seen. As Amsterdam is very flat there are no hills to create any indecent signs of huffing and puffing.  Everyone sits very elegantly upright on their 1950’s style bikes peddling along effortlessly.  Made me want to rush out and hire a bike so I could join in to this local activity, but common sense prevailed and we headed off to book ourselves a seat on one of the many canal cruises and pleased we did.

Our very first touristy tour but we felt it an essential one to familiarise ourselves with the city.  Tours certainly include more technology now that they did the last time I went on one.  You now get handed a set of earphones as you board.  At each seat there is a jack to plug these earphones in to with a number of buttons.  All you have to do is select which button is your language and voila everyone on the tour receives the same amount of information no matter what language they understand.  No more tour guide standing at the front of the boat or bus with a microphone rambling on and on about their favourite buildings or sites in the city.  We had a great view in a glass top boat in and around the many canals and waterways.  I recommend it as a must do.

After the cruise we headed off back into the city centre, which mind you was about hundred metres away with the intention of walking around the city to familiarise ourselves some more with Amsterdam and its culture.    As we walked by a phone shop we went in to ask them about buying a local sim card.  After a few moments of conversation with the chap in the shop we soon discovered it was not worth the money for our short time here, but we soon discovered this chap had visited Australia and had relatives there.  The discussion moved onto places to eat and drink.   We didn’t want to go to a touristy restaurant, oh no not us; we wanted to eat where the locals eat.  We also wanted to try the local beer and wine.  Consequently following, what we hoped was, good advice we ended up down a side alley in a tiny little bar where the owner spoke very little English.  We quickly overcome our lack of communication when some other patrons arrived who could translate for us.  With these two guys and a girl we sat down at a table at the front window and enjoyed a very entertaining night drinking with the very friendly bunch of locals.  Our conversation flowed so we forgot about dinner.  We eventually ordered a couple of bowls of hot chips (French fries) which we washed down with a number of Belgium beers.  So much for sampling the local cuisine.  We staggered home many hours later and fell asleep the moment our heads hit our pillows. Of course in the morning we blamed our tiredness on jet lag.