Hong Kong

Now then , after a most interesting journey to Japan we moved on to Hong Kong from Tokyo. Arriving late at night with the temperature still in the 90’s, we oohed and aahed at the view from our hotel room window on the 24th floor over the skyline from Kowloon. This lasted a minimal amount of time before I demolished the entire contents of the minibar during the next halfhour. In case you are wondering, the Time Out chocolate bar was stale, crumbly, and worthy of my complaint.

On opening the curtains the next morning we were greeted with a view of , absolutely nothing actually, as the smog was so dense. By the time we had emerged from the hotel the sun was up and out and hazily burning away. An interesting morning passed as my travelling companion purchased a new camera from the cheap and sleazy stores on Nathan Road. Bypassing the hawkers cries of “cheap suit Sir”, “You need tailor, I know good price”  , “Copy watch” and “Hashish” , we made our way to the Bird market, which is much smaller than it once was, due to recent bouts of avian flu, I presume.

We made our way to the Star Ferry Terminal for the five minute journey across the harbour from Kowloon to Central, and the views were magnificent.  On arrival we proceeded to get lost yet again amongst the many raised walkways, shopping malls and offices before emerging at Happy Valley Racecourse about three days later. There was a night meeting and the crowds were pouring in, so we followed, got a beer , and soaked up the atmosphere. The racecourse is surrounded by skyscrapers and is surely one of the most spectacular and recognisable on the planet. We thoroughly enjoyed it, and I nearly won , missing out in a photo-finish.

Our short trip to The Peak  was just as eventful. After a brief unintended visit to the Zoological and Botanical Gardens, on account of being lost again, this time due to the many flyovers and confusion of dual carriageways, we found the funicular for the steep trip to the top. The Peak has great views, but is somewhat theme-parkish , I narrowly avoided being rugby tackled by a man in a giant shrimp outfit. I’m still having the flashbacks. On our descent we found the most enjoyable Escalator, all 2,500 feet of it, which links Central, SoHo and the Mid-Levels. Halfway down in the SoHo area we found a nice little bar or two to abuse some Australians, while sampling the local Tsing Tsao beer. I amused myself waving to the locals going past on the escalator. I can’t quite remember getting back to the hotel, but I think a ferry and singing may have been involved.

       

The following day we decided to venture further afield and explore some of Hong Kongs 250 islands. Cheung Chau was the destination in baking sunshine as we boarded another Star Ferry for the hour long  journey. What a place it turned out to be. There are no roads on the former pirate haven, so consequently there are no cars.  Bliss.  It is still a fishing port and the catches can be seen drying in the sun, as the commercial boats ply the harbour back and forth. The seafood is excellent , and cheap, there is a lovely small temple,  Pak Thai, and secluded Tung Wan beach, watch out for the sharks though. There is a coastal path winding it’s way through cliffs and woods, and many exotic tropical plants, birds and insects to jump on. Oops, sorry,to  look at.

        

The ferry back arrived in  the city as the sun was setting enabling us to snap away with our cameras. There followed, as it does every night in Hong Kong, the Symphony of Lights, a ten minute show of lasers , lights and music over the harbour skyline.

And so to our final day of our holiday in Japan and Hong Kong, and a visit to another island , this time Lantau Island. This island accessible by either ferry or the fabulously cheap and efficeient MTR underground, is split in two by the mountains. The western side is developed and housing the new Hong Kong airport, and the eastern side , traditional with tropical forests clinging to the mountainsides. It was the traditional side we had come to see, and we landed at Mui Wo , before catching a bus for the incredibly breathtaking journey to the village of Tai O.

Sitting in a tidal estuary pretty Tai O is one of the last places in Hong Kong where you can see the traditional stilt housing of Southern Chinese fishing villages. Some are as small as dolls houses, ramshackle, and connected by wooden bridges. It seems a million miles from the bustle of Hong Kong Central. The sun baked and we found a local cafe for lunch, and  were treated to good food , cheap prices and a bottomless pot of Ulong Tea.  Outside  sea creatures wriggled in tanks , old ladies sat in the shade and plied for trade, and I tried to identify the dried food hanging in the shops and stalls. 

Our final destination of the day was a visit to the Big Buddha at Po Lin Monastery. Standing at 85 feet high this mighty bronze statue is among the largest seated Buddha images in the world, sitting on a throne of lotus, and accessible from a climb of 260  stairs, good job there was an ice cream seller at the top. What luck. The view from the top of tropical forests , mountains and the distant sea remains with me. However , at the foot of the statue is an american style theme park, with shops and all manner of tourist tat, and best avoided.

On our return to Hong Kong Central we took advantage of late night opening , and spent a few hours visiting the Hong Kong Museum of Art, which had well presented exhibits,  and we both thoroughly enjoyed. A late dinner followed before our following day departure back to the UK.

Japan (Kyoto)

Now then, I’m no rail enthusiast trainspotter person but I couldn’t help feeling excited as a shinkansen (bullet train) pulled into Tokyo station ready to transport us to Kyoto. On time , fast , and with a Japanese Rail Pass not too expensive. Acres of legroom, polite staff, and a ticket inspector that bows as he enters and leaves each carriage. What a country. Not so sure about the bento box this time though, especially the nameless pickled bollock. Well, that’s what it reminded me of anyhow.

We had come to expect  politeness  by now in Japan. From waitresses, hotel staff and maids to shopgirls and office staff, everybody greets you in this way. A small nod of the head is a perfectly acceptable response from an uptight westerner, not comfortable with such formality.

We arrived in Kyoto in warm sunshine and immediately managed to walk the short distance to the hotel in the wrong direction. The city is a mix of traditional and modern architecture, temples and shrines alongside shopping malls and designer stores, and the pace of life altogether slower than in Tokyo. We found the Eastern Gion district timeless  if you ignore the tourists, traditional houses and restaurants clustered together, where if you are lucky you may see a geisha passing between tea houses.

Nijo castle is a must see sight in Kyoto,  with it’s nightingale squeaky  wooden floors (to alert of possible intruders), beautiful Karamon Gate with gold plated fixtures, and zen garden famed for it’s variety of rocks. The nearby Imperial Palace however remains a mystery to me as we arrived without passports (which are required for entry) , and as it happened the next tour wasn’t for four days. Oh yes , and we were soaked to the skin, as Typhoon Ketsana was passing through. We squelched to Higashi Hongan-ji temple instead and had a thoroughly good time shuffling in our slippers staring at the largest wooden structure in the world.

              

Kyoto rail station deserves a mention, a sleek eye-catching complex of soaring spaces, glass surfaces, and huge escalators. It provides a futuristic entry to Japan’s old imperial capital.

In blazing sunshine we took a long trek  to join up with the Philosopher’s Walk, on the edge of the city. We felt more knackered than philosophical by the time we found the start. The walk follows a cherry-tree-lined canal along the base of the scenic Higashiyama (Eastern mountains). Coffee and craft shops, restaurants and boutiques are scattered along the route. The walk is littered with temples and shrines, most notable Ginkaku-ji (Silver Pavilion) with the best garden for me of the entire trip.  How many shades of green can you get in one garden. Steps,  bridges and gates combine with the rocks and artistry of zen, mosses abound , and the views over the city are superb.

I distinctly remember another shrine to small furry creatures that go ’squeak’  further along the route , but cannot remember it’s name. But it was very pleasant, all the same.

At the end of the walk is the Higashiyama district, with stone paved streets and is a preservation area. Traditional wooden houses line the charming small streets, flanked by Kiyomizu temple, over a thousand years old, and Yasaka Pagoda, all that remains of a Buddhist temple that once stood here.

At nearby Nanzen-ji temple you can climb to the top of the huge wooden building for excellent views, or in my case to escape from being attacked by a preying mantis which had just jumped onto the back of my head. I waved my arms about, ran wildly and screamed like a girl. It worked, it jumped off, and we had to retire to Pontocho Alley , the nearby entertainment district lined with bars and restaurants by the river, for me to regain my composure.

A short train journey from Kyoto takes you to Nara , an ugly sprawling modern city, but with the most amazing park of 1300 acres containing over 1,000 tame deer. The deer can be quite entertaining as they headbutt small children with ice-creams, and generally terrorise anybody who may have food. As you would expect the park also contains many temples and shrines,  probably the most famous being Todai-ji Temple, with it’s vast Buddha Hall, and vast Buddha statue at over 50 feet tall.   Behind the statue is a small hole bored into a large wooden pillar. A popular belief holds that if you squeeze through the hole you will attain Nirvana.  Oh how we laughed as the rescue services tried to extricate a stuck chubby american tourist. He may still be there now.

The restaurants by the river in Kyoto are on wooden stilts and the terraces open to diners in the summer months.  A fine place to while away an evening amongst the tatami mats, after a sake or two too many. The kimono clad waitresses glide to and from the tables, bringing dish after dish, no food just the dishes. Only joking, but they were distracted by my cries of anguish as I attempted to sit cross-legged on the floor.The food delightful as ever but  I remember there being a lot of cabbage.

Japan is a remarkably scenic country,  the people charming, polite and reserved, but a nation of contrasts too. From tranquillity to hectic organised chaos. The food and drink is varied , beautifully presented, simple yet ornate in presentation. We will return.

Japan(Tokyo)

Now then, now then,

Five  days before our trip to the Far East  (Japan & Hong Kong) , we found ourselves with no flight tickets, and the wrong dates for all our hotels. This due to a major administrative error between our travel agents and the ticket issuers. There followed a period of much cursing and swearing on my part, and a lot of phone calls to sort everything out before our departure. Not the best preparation for a holiday, and letters of complaint will be issued.

Defying the odds, and British Airways new Check-In machines we started our trip to Tokyo via Hong Kong, and in reverse order, thanks to the above mentioned travel agents, on schedule. After an overnight stay at the Hilton in Manchester, very nice swivelly chairs in the bar I have to add, we were on our way via Heathrow. Now, VIP lounge at Heathrow was  a splendid idea, as much snacks and alcohol as you want, and four hours to kill. All went swimmingly well until I mistook a broom cupboard for the toilet door, and got attacked by a falling mop.

Feeling altogether much jollier we eventually boarded our plane. After watching as many films as I could, staring at the strange dishcloth I had just been given ,( flight socks allegedly), and having the meal option of omelette or seafood todger, (I had the omelette) , we arrived in Tokyo via a four hour Hong Kong stopover.

Tokyo is huge, unbelievably busy, and for the newly landed first time traveller rather confusing. An amazing city, it attacks the senses as soon as you step outside the hotel comfort zone. We went to  explore nearby Shinjuku, and took in the sights, neon , skyscrapers, noise, strange exotic food, and masses of people. Sales girls/boys outside electronics shops with microphones emitting a constant stream to try and entice you in. Advertising trucks prowling the main streets complete with PA systems.  Huge screens and advertising from the most technologically advanced nation on the planet. Girls dressed in the strange japanese costume play outfits. Even the traffic cops had strange whistling red light sabres.  I was ecstatic, fuelled with adrenalin, trying to take it all in. 

Shinjuku railway station is the busiest station in the world, a myriad of entrances, exits and escalators. It is a small city in itself, with shopping malls, hotels etc, you need maps to navigate, even though english is signposted alongside japanese.

After a good nights rest we were eager to get out and see some of the sights. Rather too eager from my travelling companion, as she trotted towards the lift in her hotel room slippers. One of the most sacred and spectacular of sights in Tokyo is Senso-ji temple. A large complex complete with five story pagoda, the main hall houses the original kannon image, the buddhist goddess of mercy. The smell of incense hangs over the temple as this is burnt in the joukoro (incense burner) at the entrance, people wafting the smoke over them to keep healthy. The gardens Dembo-in are tranquil stroll gardens, used as a training centre for monks. It is an arrangement of  woods, bamboo groves, lawns and water.

From this temple we walked to Ueno Park, which houses The Metropolitan Art Museum, National Museum, National Science Museum, Shitamachi Museum,  and a beautiful pond,  Shinobazu, which is almost covered in very high lotuses, and complimented by Tosho-gu shrine, one of Tokyo’s few remaining edo-era structures, Kiyo-mizu hall, and the Gojo shrine, reached through a series of red torii (gates). Inside there are red bibbed Inari fox statues in an atmospheric grotto. We liked the fat ginger tomcat asleep in a tree.

Now I must mention japanese vending machines at this stage. They are virtually on every street corner, remain un-vandalised, and stock all manner of eccentricities, well, for a vending machine that is. You can find every variation of green tea, coffee, and soft drinks, Pocari Sweat and Calpis being two worth mentioning. They stock umbrellas, toiletries, magazines, and even schoolgirls knickers. What a fabulous country.

Food…………..
Is it all fish I hear, and no no absolutely not. Not being a big raw fish lover, and being in possession of a delicate constitution I approached culinary Japan with some trepidation. I need not have worried.  From the marvellous bento boxes popular with travellers, businessmen,and schoolchildren, containing any assortment of fish, rice, pickles and meats, to the delights of tempura (lightly battered deep fried fish or vegetables) , yakitori (grilled on skewers) , and noodle dishes with miso soup, I loved it all, excepy maybe the pickled radish, which smelled like something dead.

Which brings me to Tsukiji fish market,  get there early in the morning and marvel at the huge amounts of fish being auctioned. Nearby is the Hama Detached Palace Garden, with tranquil Nakajima teahouse, and beautiful waist high flowers.

Harajuku district is the playground of the youth culture in Tokyo, and Takeshita-dori a narrow alley is the place to find what’s hot in teen fashion and culture. From the cheap to the outrageous it’s all here, and many of the teens are dressed for the occasion.

Toilets……………………………well, what an experience this can be in Japan.  I have never seen so many buttons and nozzles. Hot air fans, brushes, high powered jets, levitating seats, and flashing lights and music. It was like a disco in our bathroom , and I wanted to invite the neighbours in for a party.

Using our very useful Japanese Railpasses, we ventured out from Tokyo in the drizzle, one of the two typhoons that we caught the tail-ends of, and arrived in Kamakura.  This pleasant town is surrounded by woods, temples and shrines, the most enjoyable to us being Hasadera with it’s eleven faced kannon, simple and elegant,  the Great Buddha, Daibutsu standing nearly fifty feet tall,  and Jufuku-ji temple, where we were guided by an old man who was sweeping the grounds, eager to keep up his english.

Back in Tokyo the views from the top of Tokyo Tower (1093ft) and higher than the Eiffel tower are breathtaking by day and stunning by night.

Ginza Yon-chome crossing intersection  is one of the busiest in the world, and the San’ai building made of glass is magical at night lit by neon. The Ginza district is an unrivalled shopping experience, with it’s malls and department stores.

The nightlife in Tokyo is legendary from high rise bars with superb skyline vistas, to karaoke and drunken salarymen , eventually on their way home from a day at the office. Shibuya and Shinjuku are two of the largest entertainment areas within the city.There are apparently more restaurants than New York or London, and I certainly wouldn’t argue with that. The food and drink is the first reason that will make me return to Tokyo in the near future, the next will be for the buzz, the sheer thrill of feeling like I’m on an alien planet, or on the set of Bladerunner.

Travel………..Why ?

Now then,  why do we travel, or to be more precise why do I travel, and what are my motives. So a serious philosophical blog for a change.

Is it that need to be somewhere, anywhere else. Well , there have been times in my life when I would whole-heartedly agree with that statement, but many more,  especially now, when this isn’t at all true.  I often feel carefree, exhilarated , daring at times when I’m travelling, a feeling that I’m really experiencing life as I would want to.

But what is it that has caused me to ditch plans and re-arrange events for the sake of  travel.

Is it an addiction to stimulation and new experiences, driven by curiousity , boredom, often instigated by a view of a map, or a vivid mental flashback of a past travel experience. How often does that image of the Djemaa  el Fnah in Marrakesh, or people watching sat outside an Roman cafe pop into my thoughts on an otherwise boring weekday in suburbia. Often, I tell you.

Travel to me promises freedom from mundanity, where plans can be changed at the drop of a hat, of endless possibilities. At times that freedom has meant a table for one in some dining establishment, or simply to be anonymous, no attachments, an unknown history.

Often the reality of travel doesn’t live up to the expectation, but still I’m compelled to do it.  I’ve travelled on my own , as a couple, or in groups,  the experiences may be different, but the euphoria is still the same. I even get homesick.

I can spend days, weeks, months poring over guidebooks, brushing up on a language, studying itineraries, and nowadays consulting the internet, to compliment  my experience.

I think I read that some travel to eliminate self,  a running away in effect, but I try to compliment self with my travel. I try hard not to be a travel bore, and I think that my horizons have certainly broadened through travel, my tolerance to others has increased, and it’s great for self confidence.

Well, the answer is probably all of the reasons above.

Who can really say what makes us travel, but until I work it out I’ll still  dream of  far-flung lands,  and promises and expectations of things to come. 

   Ahhh Foreign Parts.

Return to Ireland

Now then, now then.

In September 08 I once again got to visit the country of my ancestors, and this time with wheels. Armed with Sat. Nav. we picked up the hire car from Dublin airport and off we went. That’s when the sat nav problems started, as we went round and around Dublin city centre with the voice of John Cleese telling us to turn right into a tramlane, across the pavement, and through a department store. We eventually got to the hotel before dark.

Now as I’ve previously mentioned the sights of Dublin I won’t do it again, so the next morning we made the short journey to the Hill of Tara , an ancient sacred complex  apparently once associated with kingship rituals. It’s not too far from here to Newgrange and it’s visitor centre, although it is if you rely on sat nav and the lack of signposts from the north.  The megalithic passage tomb is a UNESCO world heritage site , and the tour , if you ever find the place is comprehensive. The last of our three ancient sites to visit was at Knowth on the River Boyne, another passage tomb in the form of many mounds, very teletubbies in appearance.

With all this sightseeing of ancient sites it was soon time to return to Dublin to enjoy some traditional music sessions in the Cobblestone bar, and at O’Donoghues pub. Two of the best in the city in mine and Billy Connolly’s opinion.

The following day we set off via the Wicklow mountains to head down south to Kinsale in Co.Cork.  When the sat nav couldn’t get a signal we finally bought a damn good road atlas in Dalkey. This pleasant little coastal town near to Dublin has residents Bono, Enya  and Van Morrison allegedly, although I’m sure their sat nav malfunctions in the town too.

We sped through the Wicklow mountains in and out of the sun then rain showers, oohing and aahing at the rainbows and mountain peaks, before travelling through Waterford and Dungarvan, which has a nice cafe with plenty of sticky buns, before eventually arriving at the beautiful port of Kinsale. This former spanish, norman and english town is now the self-proclaimed food capital of Ireland, so obviously we headed for the Fishy Fishy cafe after finding our hotel, and stuffed our faces on various seafood.

Kinsale

The small narrow streets of Kinsale contain many pubs and restaurants , and as I lay there like a beached whale in the small wee hours, I joined in with a verse or two from ‘Fields of Athenry’ , and ‘American Pie’, from the pub opposite.

Old Middleton distillery,outside of Cork is worthy of a visit, if just for the whisky tasting tour. “There’s no way I’m spitting it out matey”. Accompanied by some friendly and amusing american tourists , “look Hank , the driver gets his name on the truck” and tutting to a stuffed cat, we  saw the old maltings, distilleries, and corn stores in atmospheric surroundings. Then we got to drink some Jamesons and other stuff that I forget. As I wasn’t driving I had my travelling companions quota too, so it all got a bit blurry.

After another visit to Cobh and a first visit to kiss the Blarney stone , we headed back to Kinsale, more food and drink, more drink , then a ghost tour. This was performed by two out of work actor brothers, the O’Neils whose mother runs the Tap Tavern in the town. As ghost tours go this was very entertaining and thoroughly enjoyable, delivered at a good pace , historical but never dull, humorous and engrossing.

We drove to Bantry House in torrential wind and rain the next day, which despite being somewhat rundown holds a certain charm. Nearby Drombeg stone circle is one of the most spectacular ancient sites  I’ve visited, with views down to the sea in the distance. Timoleague Abbey ,founded by Franciscan monks, ruined and standing at the head of  a long sea inlet, is atmospheric and often overlooked by tourists. We were the only visitors.

Drombeg

West Cork is full of inlets, rivers,  lochs and spectacular scenery. Your are never far from the coast ,or the pub,  and the pick of the pretty villages for us was Glenmore.

With both of us nursing hangovers the next morning ,after joining in the singing in  the pub opposite,  it was a late start as we set off for Killarney. After lunching at Killorglin famous for it’s annual Puck Fair, and a must-see visit to the Kerry Bog village, where I got bitten by a bog midge, we drove around the Ring of Kerry. I’ve mentioned it in my previous Ireland blog, but it’s still as magical as ever, open roads, mountains, cliffs, lochs, forests, islands………..wow.

As we arrived back at our Killarney hotel, we narrowly avoided shunting a jaunty vehicle, tourist horse and cart to me, now that would have made an interesting story. Killarney is very very touristy, but makes an excellent base for touring the local Kerry area.

On the way the following day to Galway we stopped at Bunratty Castle, and folk  park. Now theme parks bring me out in hives, but this one I actually enjoyed.  The castle itself is grand , intact, on the River Shannon, and stocked full of interesting exhibits, but the folk park, well………….how do I describe it.

The folk park is where 19th century life is recreated. A trip to yesteryear. Set amidst 26 acres it features 30 buildings in a ‘living’ and ‘rural’ setting. There’s even a pub in the cobbled street. I was disappointed not to see any children being forced up chimneys though.

Galway is an odd little city. It feels , on this my second visit,  isolated but utterly charming. Gaelic is widely spoken. It has many good pubs and restaurants, more than it’s fair share of travellers, and what used to be called New Age people. It exudes an edge, a different place, but still caters for the masses as well.  It’s a great base to tour the Cliffs of Moher, as breathtaking as the last time, eerie in the fog that quickly developed,  the Aran Islands, as remote , windswept, and charming as last time, and the lunar like landscape of the Burren with its ancient sites of Poulnabrone, and nearby Cahir cornell, and Co Clare , with it’s traditional music pubs, notably Gus O’Connors at Doolin, the village famous in the game of Folklore.

It was soon once again time to return from Ireland , a country that yet again  captivated, entertained, and warmly welcomed us. A proud nation where people still seem genuinely pleased to talk to you, whatever your heritage, and opinions. Until next time,  Slainte.

Florence

Now then, now then.

It was with some anxiety and trepidation that I found myself seated next to my previous travelling companion’s elderley mother en route to the beautiful italian city of Florence. I had been twice before and she hadn’t , and we took pity on her. Well it was only for a week, how bad could it be ?

 

It was May 05 , pleasantly warm and our hotel was rather grand, in fact it was The Grand Hotel and we were quite taken with the luxurious surroundings. We found a nearby trattoria for dinner and did our favourite pastime of people watching.  Noted were the men marching about the city wearing silly hats and playing trumpets.

The following morning the strangely attired men were now riding bicycles , still blowing their trumpets.     I’m talking hundreds here, not a few on a peculiar stag night or an italian fetish club. I never did find out what was going on , and I probably forgot to ask.  Anyhow …………we made our way to the Duomo (cathedral) in the city centre, stopping at every clothes or shoe shop along the way for our elderly companion to do some shopping. It was closed when we arrived, not because it was dusk but in fact lunch, so off we trotted to the famous bridge the Ponte Vecchio where we had some wild boar pasta for lunch.

Refreshed and ready for some more shops we briefly paused in the Boboli gardens, exploring the beautiful terraces and fountains, before finding a street market for the girls to stock up on shawls and jewellery. The shopping was briefly stopped when my travelling companion saw Helena Bonham Carter’s mum with their baby , so we had to hang around to see if Mr Tim Burton and his adorable wife were to appear as well.They didn’t so off we went to some more shops. Eventually I escaped from shopping as the Duomo was open and once again I marvelled at the beautiful exterior but the empty interior. Then as I turned round I realised our elderly companion was off to ransack the nearest designer shop before it shut for the night.

Quite beside myself with shopping by now we arranged to catch a train to Siena the next morning , through the lovely Tuscan countryside. As we arrived in Siena station the information desk girl told me “Any orange bus to the city centre”. That’ll be any orange bus that isn’t going to the hospital then , in the opposite direction. On arrival at the hospital we tried to find a taxi to take us to the city , now miles away.

My travelling companion’s mother was now telling our predicament (in english) to all and sundry , mainly very pregnant ladies, and bandaged individuals, stood waiting at the hospital gates. We were all rather relieved when a man stopped , we jumped in and asked him to take us to the city centre. He was quite reluctant but agreed , then as we progressed he informed us that this was actually a private ambulance/taxi that was used to transport sick people and ex-people to the hospital.

We explored Siena’s huge square the piazza del campo , before visiting the Duomo, which unlike Florence’s has a beautiful interior as well as exterior. The surrounding cobbled streets and alleys are well worth a stroll, but take note that there are a lot of shops.

The following day and back in Florence we visited the Farmacia Santa Maria Novella , an old fashioned apothecary , and famous from the Hannibal Lecter films. It’s a very atmospheric place even without Anthony Hopkins. After this interlude we somehow ended up in more shops, then back to the hotel where we escaped to the rooftop terrace bar, where I downed copious amounts of red wine, for sustenance of course, while our elderly companion napped.

The next round of designer shopping didn’t really bother me too much as I had been up most of the previous night somersaulting on the bed after a sensational Champions League victory for Liverpool over Milan.  I had waited over twenty years for this moment and there had been much celebrating in the hotel bar with the locals.

There was also a glimpse of freedom for me. I had been granted a free day to do what I wanted , on my own , while the ladies did more shopping in the city. I caught a local bus to a village nearby in the mountains called Fiesole. The views over the plains were marvellous, the air cooler, and there was a roman ampitheatre , a couple of quaint churches, and villas covered in flowers. I was in heaven.

I got another local bus later to Settignano another village apparently where Michelangelo grew up. It’s a straggling hilltop village, with a small central square, and not much else so my stay was brief before I got yet another bus to the carthusian monastery at Galluzo. Now run by Benedictine monks you can go on a guided tour, which I did , through the cells, chapel, refectory, courtyards and allotments. It’s grand, and just like every spooky horror film with a monastery in it.

All too soon it was time to go back to the hotel to meet the ladies , and to get to our seats for a classical concert at nearby St.Mark’s church, which I thoroughly enjoyed. It was an ex-pat affair , and there was even tea and cakes in the interval. The cake is homemade I was told about ten times, until I gave up trying to work out what the correct answer should be.  Lovely, mmmmm…….marvellous I tried, but still they told me. Maybe I was supposed to cartwheel around the church or wave my willie in wonderment of this culinary achievement. I’ll never know.

 We had dinner in a central restaurant where it was reservation only , which we didn’t have, but our elderly companion talked her way in to our delight.       Inside the walls were adourned with famous patrons who had dined there, Dustin Hoffman, Nick Nolte, Sting, Anthony Hopkins, and many others. The food was very good and the price not too expensive, but I’ve forgotten the name of the place.

Hurrah, and it’s time to go home the next morning , after a spot of last minute shopping. There are  a few mini crisis as we await our taxi in the hotel lobby. I am asked by our elderly companion, Is there going to be a rep to pick us up, and how will we recognise them if not.  This followed by wanting to check all her suitcases in the lobby area finally gets to me, and I snap. ” No there isn’t a rep ” I shout, and “I don’t care who picks us up be it Spiderman,  Superman or Orville the fu**ing Duck”.

We are kept apart on the journey home probably for my sanity, but if I’m honest I rather enjoyed her company mostly for the week , her enthusiasm and energy superior to mine at the time. She didn’t shy away from situations and confrontations and didn’t  comprehend embarrassment. It can’t have been easy for her travelling for the first time alone,  with two at times rather avant-garde companions.

But oh so many shops.

Krakow

Now then, I thought it was about time I visited Eastern Europe again, so decided to give Krakow in Poland a go. Accompanied by my travelling companion  we endured the short flight , which I amused myself by poking her with my drinks twizzle stick at regular intervals. Oh , how I laughed.

Krakow was beautifully hot as we arrived and made our way to the historic Old Square (Rynek Glowny) where we watched the street entertainment, accordion players, gypsy bands and all. The square is the largest town square in Europe apparently, and is awash with cafes, restaurants and bars.

We were staying at a small hotel about ten minutes walk from the centre in the former jewish quarter(Kazimierz). The hotel was in a small old cobbled square surrounded by pavement cafes and synagogues. Its very quaint and was the setting for the jewish ghetto in the film Schindler’s List.

The Royal Castle (Wawel) is a short walk away , and it was here that we viewed the Private Royal Apartments, gardens and ramparts before descending down to the Dragon’s Den , no irritating reality TV show contestants  thank goodness. The dragons den takes you down a spiral staircase to the subterranean  caverns by the edge of the castle. All myth and magic, if it wasn’t for a schoolparty of about a hundred squealing children that kept blocking the route.

Elsewhere in the city, we attended a very cheap classical concert in a beautiful  church , and ate in some atmospheric old restaurants , all at a fraction of the cost for any country in the Eurozone.

A two hour train journey from Krakow takes you to the pretty mountain village of Zakopane high in the Tatra mountains, close to the Slovakian border. Unfortunately after a late start, and a mix-up with unhelpful train information woman we went on the bus. It’s half the price as well.  Zakopane was once maybe pretty , or in fact still could be , if you could find it behind the thousands of cheap and tacky souvenir shops and fast food eateries. The buildings are all wooden, there’s a lovely river running through the centre, but the place is awash with tourists, everywhere. We escaped , so we thought , in the cable car up to the top of the mountain. It was even worse up there, with a theme park and rides. But at least the views were spectacular.

No sooner had we descended the mountain than the warm sunny weather broke. There followed two hours of continual rain , thunderstorms and lightning of biblical proportions. We took refuge while the streets flooded, until we could wait no longer, and succumbed to purchasing pac-a-macs. In case you’re wondering mine was bright orange.

We squelched to the railway station for an interesting train journey back to Krakow. After an hour delay the train spluttered and groaned and ventured forth only to grind to a halt again a couple of stations further down the line. There it sat for another 25 minutes. This was repeated half a dozen times , sometimes interspersed with much frenetic activity from sad faced repair engineers amidst much gesticulation.             It finally stopped altogether on the Krakow city limits, and after a brush with danger , avoiding a rather too close oncoming train as we ran across the lines, we gave up and got a taxi. Best £1.25 I’ve ever spent.

I must also mention our other trip to Auschwitz and Birkenau, reached by bus within an hour and a half from Krakow. The former Nazi concentration camps are both chilling and interesting.  The guided tour informative, horrifying and compelling. It’s an experience I’ll never forget.

On a much lighter note, our last morning we spent chugging around Krakow in a Trabant car on a  Communism tour. http://www.crazyguides.com/   . This I can most definitely recommend, you may even have seen Michael Palin with these guys in his recent New Europe BBC TV series. Pete took us around the former communist city, pointed out historic sights, and stalled the Trabant at a busy city junction , with trams , trucks and all bearing down on us.  We also visited a replica 60’s/70’s tower block flat (the communist  museum), and the huge steelworks comlex.  He also serves complimentary  vodka with ghurkins , not for the faint-hearted.

If you’ve not already been , go to Krakow soon before it turns into another cheap eastern european stag and hen party destination. It’s historic, quaint, cheap, has good beer,  and  warm summers. It’s still got an unfinished quirkiness about it , which is part of it’s attraction. 

South America 1 (Lima &The Amazon)

Now then , five countries, twenty eight nights, twenty two flights, this was going to be a biggy. Our escorted trip would take us high into the Andes, deep into the Amazon, and to the marvellouslly named Lake Titicaca.

After months of planning we finally boarded our connecting flight to Amsterdam, for the long flight to Lima, the capital of Peru. One of our tour party had already collapsed, before we left Schipol airport, apparently due to the strong side effects of the anti-malarial drugs we were all taking. As we were introduced to other members of the tour, it began to look and feel more like an expedition, as we all began swapping notes and comparing drug side effects. The announcer at the airport had already demanded that I go to the information desk as there was important information for me. We began to worry. What if I wasn’t allowed on the plane for carrying a dangerous and offensive girlfriend.

It turned out to be an adjustment to the seating plan on the flight and nothing to worry about. The flight passed smoothly to Aruba in the Caribbean where we stopped for refuelling, and a stretch of the old legs. I watched with interest as a dutch family were upside down on the airport carpet waving their arms and legs about like dying bluebottles.

After flying over Venezuela, we finally landed at Lima and were loaded onto a coach to take us to our hotel. The traffic was horrendous and the noise deafening, it was rushhour in the city. After a quick meal we retired for the night exhausted.

Two hours later I woke suffering with stomach cramps caused by the anti malaria pills. I vowed there and then to stop taking them. As  I came back from the bathroom I began to feel really odd. I was dizzy, and now shaking violently. In fact the whole room seemed to be shaking. It was. Oh no EARTHQUAKE. It lasted perhaps thirty seconds and the epi centre was some fifty miles away destroying some villages. The capital was shaken but no serious damage caused. Everyone just went back to bed.

We awoke later to thick fog, a common occurrence in Lima, due to the various currents nearby, El Nino in particular.  Lima has some grand former colonial type buildings, and some grand squares in the centre. It is a rambling city though with miles of suburbs. We were taken to the Cathedral, then the National Museum (with it’s dug up former Incas),  a couple of art galleries, and a former monastery. We also went to the shabby coastal area of Lima, Miraflores to see the Pacific Ocean breakers hitting the shore.

The following day we left the city and it’s intermittent fog for the Amazon. The flight to the city of Iquitos within the rainforest took us over the peaks of the Andes and the Naxca Lines were clearly visible below, in the desert.

The flight gave us our first aerial views of the Amazon rainforest below, and it was vast.     On arrival at Iquitos airport we were herded into what looked like an american schoolbus with no windows. This took us the short journey to the port so we could join our boats that would take us to the lodge a couple of hours away up the Amazon.

Iquitos was a whistle stop tour. I remember the oppressive tropical heat, motorcycle rickshaws, over-flowing markets, and  wooden rickety houses on stilts on the river.

We arrived near to the Lodge and all our luggage was unloaded. We then walked for a mile or so past water buffalo, and an assortment of birds, parrots etc. There in a small clearing was the Lodge,  our home for the next couple of days.

It too was built on stilts as you would expect being next to the river. The roof was thatched, and the rooms reached by a series of walkways. The facilities were basic to put it bluntly. No glass in the windows, although there were thatch shower blocks partly open to the elements, and a thunderbox latrine that you just didn’t want to fall into.

There was no electricity and light was by kerosene lamps, and also no ceilings as such.

Before lunch we were taken on a tour deep into the rainforest with a local guide, who hacked away at thick parts of the undergrowth. We were shown plants with medicinal qualities, and monkeys called from the treetops above us. There were toucans, and poisonous tree frogs to look at, and insects of all sorts and sizes to be avoided. It was essential to wear a hat in the rainforest to deflect the various creepy crawlies that fell from the trees continuously.

After lunch we were taken out on the river itself to view the pink dolphins as they circled our small boats, and the flocks of multi-coloured parrots as they flew overhead. There was even a sloth slowly making it’s way in a tree top.

Later we stoppped at a local village and met some of the children and visited their wooden hutted schoolroom.

Back at the lodge we found the hammocks in the large thatched restroom and rocked there as darkness descended at 6pm. The sounds of the forest rose as the light diminished, and the odd roar could be heard coming from the rainforest around us. There was an armed guard with us who patrolled at night ready for any unwanted fearsome creatures like jaguars.

A dinner of catfish preceded an early night for us all. I lay there under my mozzie nets, watching the fireflies, and listening to the hoots and howling noises nearby, still with my boots on. They were needed as my travelling companion woke me to accompany her to the latrines at midnight. As I stood on guard with a torch she checked inside for the large spiders as big as your hand that we had seen earlier in the day. It was all clear inside. However outside I shuffled nervously listening to the sounds of creaking, grumbling, groaning, munching and cackling. It wasn’t my travelling companion but the nightime forest sounds.

I woke next morning to the sound of something eating the outside of the lodge wall. Next there was a shout, a squeal and the sound of trotters as a fully grown tapir had sneaked in and was now desperately trying to return to the forest, pursued by the armed guard.

Everybody ran to their doors and windows for a view of the tapir as it ran away. As we were all awake now, some went on a guided bird walk, but we stayed behind talking to the guard, as he poked in a hole to get two angry tarantula’s out with a stick.  A day at leisure too soon was over and a return flight back to Lima began.

South America (Cuzco & Macchu Picchu)

The flight from Lima to Cuzco was quite spectacular, with the peaks of the Andes all around. Cuzco is 3600m above sea level and the altitude can be a problem for most people, myself included.  The first day or two I found myself constantly out of breath in the thin air, until I discovered the local cure. Chewing coca leaves or drinking them in a tea alleviates the altitude sickness and headache problems. However as it’s derivative is cocaine I felt myself feeling rather more jolly than normal, and less hungry.

Cuzco is THE andean city. It has Inca ruins, Sacsayhuaman and Qenco, a temple of the sun god, a cathedral, and markets everywhere. Its a large city and the locals really do wear  bowler hats.  It has a frontier type feel , likened by many to Kathmandu.

And there’s llamas.

We caught a rickety train a few days later through the mountains, and alonside the Urubamba river, to take us to the foot of Macchu Picchu.  From there we got in a bus and wound round the hundreds of hairpin bends that snake up the mountainside to the hotel on the slopes of Macchu Picchu , where we were to spend the night.

The hotel is small and comfortable but certainly not luxury, but it’s 10,500 feet high.   It’s spectacular, and the views all around of the Andean peaks I’ve never surpassed since. The ruins are 2 minutes walk from the only hotel and we join a guided tour of this former Incan city ruins. It remained lost to the outside world until 1917 , and our guide fills us in with all the details.  I discover that Peru has 84 out of 112 possible eco-life systems. Well I never.

We retired to the bar later as a torrential downpour descended, and after a great meal in the hotel restaurant retired early to bed.

We went for another early morning look at the ruins at 6.45 am while the place was almost deserted, the views crystal clear, and heyup , what’s that?       An Andean equivalent of a sherpa emerged from the slopes below carrying all manner of tourist equipment, more followed with buckets, toilet seats and lots of luggage. Eventually the tourists themselves passed on their way to the summits , walking the Inca Trail. I had a beer for them.

South America (Bolivia)

Due to a train strike we found ourselves boarding a coach to take us 6 hours across the Altiplano from Cuzco to Cochabamba on Lake Titicaca. The Altiplano is a plateau at 14500 feet high  within  the Andes, and then some. Herds of Llamas and alpacas roam free on the altiplano narrowly avoiding our coach on more than one occasion.  On the way we visited Uros Islands, these islands were floating reed islands, with a small settlement inhabiting them permanently, watching us as we squelched on the soggy reeds. 

We finally arrived at the Bolivian border by nightfall , and in a dimly lit hut got everything required to be , stamped and authorised. Then it was on to a makeshift hotel in Cochabamba, where there was no money exchange open, fused lights, no handles on our door on the inside, and no hot water. But we did have a bucket which we donated to another couple who had a leak in there room. It was like Fawlty Towers. There was no other hotel in the village so we were stuck there overnight. There was much complaining and after a hurried meeting of tour party guests we decided to stay and make the most of it as it was now 9pm. At least we all got free alcohol in the bar.

The following morning we had an hour to kill before departure so I had a wander around the village , and to the harbour. Here the bolivian navy was docked, all one patrol boat, or was it a pedalo.

Anyhow, we departed and headed by hydrofoil to visit Moon Island to see some more Inca temple ruins. We eventually got to our destination on Lake Titicaca at a small village called Huachipato and headed for the pleasant hotel’s panoramic bar.  This hotel apparently has the highest elevator in the world, so now you can sleep easier.

The following morning I wandered to the waterfront by the hotel and ended up being shown around the original boat moored there from the Kon Tiki Expedition. This was followed by watching the llamas being fed. I had to contain my excitement at this point. Not too much to say about Lake Titicaca except it’s big, very big actually, very blue, and it’s got a great name.

We arrived by road in Bolivia’s capital city of La Paz a few hours later. My travelling companion had fallen ill with bronchitis and unfortunately was confined to our hotel room on arrival while a doctor was called. I meanwhile went to see the city with it’s Indian markets, and the Valley of the Moon on the city limits.

Later when I returned to the hotel my travelling companion had recovered sufficiently enough to have completely emptied the contents of the minibar inside herself. I thought she was ill. What a divertion.  She had also worked the jacuzzi out and was enjoying the view from our 50th storey high panoramic window view. But she was still coughing.