Krabi and Bangkok
Posted: 10/04/2012 Filed under: Thailand | Tags: Bangkok, Golden Palace, Hat Yai, Jim Thompson House, Krabi, Patpong Market, Teakwood Mansion, Train, Travel Leave a comment
Railay Beach
16 hours on a train
The journey to the coastal resort of Sand Sea (actually Railay Beach) in Krabi in Thailand was something of an adventure. My cousin and I had boarded a train at Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia, bound for Hat Yai. It was a sixteen hour journey, which set off at 8pm in the evening. We had booked a first class sleeper for as little as £16 each. Not expecting much for our money, we were very pleasantly surprised. We had a cabin to ourselves, with bunk beds and spotlessly clean bedding. The bathroom was a bit of a trek down the corridor, but there were no complaints from me at all about the quality and cleanliness of the sleeping arrangements. We feasted on the cheese, crackers and water we’d bought earlier in the day, and spent an uncomfortable night. Sleeper trains are not easy to snooze on, especially if you’re a light sleeper. Your back feels it every time the train goes over the points, and you are bounced around with a huge jolt every time the train stops. Around 5am, the announcements started as to which station was next, at which point, I gave up trying to sleep and got up and dressed. This train journey takes you through the Cameron Highlands, and through miles of humid jungle, with a few small towns and communities dotted across the terrain. At some point in the morning we had to leave our cabin and join the rest of the train, as the first class compartment gets decoupled. This caused us some concern as we scrambled to make sure we weren’t left behind, making sure that we moved all of our belongings to the carriage along. The third class carriages were also clean and comfortable, and not so full that we couldn’t get a seat.
Hat Yai
Street in Hat Yai
The border crossing went very smoothly, a delay of about 45 minutes whilst everyone on the train was processed. Then we were on our way again on the short journey from Pedang Besar to Hat Yai. Hat Yai was not my kind of town. We arrived at midday, hauled our bags off the train and over the railway tracks, while being bawled at by aggressive touts. “Where you go? You want tuk tuk?” My bag and my cousin’s both broke off at the handle, which I think was a strange coincidence, possibly a nice mugger with a knife around? Anyway, we managed to keep hold of our belongings, and ourselves, and made it into the station building. The tuk tuk driver we hired to take us to a reputable travel company made all the right noises, so we climbed in. He didn’t take us where we’d asked him to, however, feigning ignorance he instead took us to a rough looking dive where the proprietor seemed to be watching pornography on a small TV behind the counter. He was unphased by our presence and barely took his eyes off the screen as he informed us that he could arrange an airconditioned minibus to Krabi, which would be there in two hours to pick us up. We were tired and hot so we agreed, rather than try to find the other travel agency. Hat Yai is a strangely hick kind of town, the streets are non-descript and there didn’t seem to be a great deal to do. It seems primarily to cater for day tripping Malays, hopping across the border to sample the delights of Thailand, which presumably are not available in their more conservative country. We had a bit of a wander, but couldn’t find much to entertain us, so we settled down to read in the street in front of the travel agency. The woman at the shop next door, an odd shop which seemed to be a mixture of grocer’s and pet shop, offered to sell us some cola, and we agreed. She unearthed two cans of Pepsi from the back of the shop, I’m not sure how long they had been there but the logo was definitely Pepsi from the 1980s. The cans were covered in a strange yellow powder, which on closer inspection appeared to be curry powder. Curried cola, mmmm, nice! Our wait was made more sociable by the arrival of other holidaymakers, including a cheerful bunch of Americans who arrived in the back of a pick up truck. The service was obviously made use of by commuters also, one young Thai woman explained to us that Railay Beach was the family home, and that she was going back there to see her mother.
The minibus arrived on time, but it wasn’t exactly luxurious. A bone shattering four hour journey commenced as we said goodbye to Hat Yai. The suspension in the minibus was badly worn and we felt every stone in the road as we bumped along. We arrived in Krabi just before 6pm, which was a relief as we knew that we had to catch the 6pm boat, and that it was the last one. The Thai woman we met was unbelievably helpful and kind and let us trail along in her wake as she was also going to Railay Beach.
Paradise
Bars and shops at Railay
The boat that we got over to Railay was one of the Thai long boats, fitted with an engine. These are wooden boats, with an elongated prow and can really move at speed when they are given some help! It was a short 30 minute trip, and we arrived at Railay absolutely exhausted. The boat landed in the water, and we had to wade through it with our bags to get to the shore line, just under the water was a long concrete pier, which was treacherous and slippery. Some young lads helped us with our bags, swinging them effortlessly above their heads and striding forwards, as my cousin and I slithered along in their wake. When we got to dry land however, it was like we had landed in paradise. We wheeled our hold alls through a silent resort, the only sound being the crickets, the lights low and subtle. Beach huts lined the path, with palm trees leaning protectively over their roofs. The path gave way to sand at the end, the reception office was practically on the beach. We collected our keys and were taken to a beach “hut”, which resembled a free standing four star hotel room, with spotless bathroom, and shiny marble floors. After a quick wash and brush up after our long and largely sleep-free journey, we went to check out Railay and see what was there. Not much! There was a small collection of bars serving food, and a shop, but apart from that it was completely isolated. Once the last boat has been and gone, you really are on your own, with the other guests. The atmosphere was incredibly relaxing and chilled: the bars were all on the beach with a breathtaking view of the ocean. In the mornings we had the hotel’s buffet breakfast, our table on the beach, watching the waves and the people. We spent our days here lying on the beach reading, watching the world go by, having a beer. In the evenings, groups of people got together on the beach for barbecues, juggling fire and playing music. Boats from the nearby islands would pick up partygoers and take them to raves happening on deserted beaches. The Andaman sea was warm and inviting like a hot bath. We spent six nights here, and it was like entering another world, where you had not a care in the world, or even a thought that the “real” world existed.
Our beach hut
Bang! It’s Bangkok!
Our week in paradise couldn’t last forever, more’s the pity! So after a week of peace and tranquillity we came back to earth with a bang by finishing our trip in Bangkok. We took the coward’s way out and got a transfer by road to the airport in Krabi and got a flight across to the capital. Bangkok is an amazing city, a teeming, gridlocked city, cradling 12 million people in its dusty arms. Walking around can be alarming, there are stray dogs and beggars (really poorest of the poor beggars, with missing limbs) on the streets and cockroaches and rats aren’t an unusual sight. At 5pm, the traffic barely moves, as thousands of workers make their way home across the city. But the spirit of the place is undeniable, the people are friendly and seemed generally happy and welcoming (this was before the uprisings that have characterised the Thai political landscape in recent years).
Jim Thompson House
We checked into the local Novotel, an ordinary chain hotel which was absolutely fine in all respects, but not especially thrilling. Location wise it was great, close to the Bangkok metro and to a complex of restaurants and bars. We decided to spend our first afternoon exploring the Jim Thompson House, which proved to be something of a revelation, and an experience which I’ve recommended to all friends who’ve been going to the city since. We went in the late afternoon, when the rush hour was building to its crescendo on the streets outside, and found ourselves in a tranquil haven. The Jim Thompson House is 6 traditional wooden Thai houses joined together to create one big house, and its filled with beautiful artefacts and has luscious gardens. You would hardly believe that you’re in the middle of Bangkok there, with chaos just a stone’s throw over the garden wall. Jim Thompson was an American trader, who established himself in the Thai capital in the 1960s, and mysteriously vanished in the Cameron Highlands in 1967. Rumours abound about his fate, but no trace of him has ever been found.
Boats and Palaces
River boat, Bangkok
We had a packed itinerary the next day, starting with a boat trip on the Chao Phraya River. We caught the metro down to one of the piers and caught one of the Thai express boats that traverse the river and take commuters and tourists from one side of the city through to the other. The boats were surprisingly easy to negotiate, and the river is an interesting place to spend a half hour. This journey up river to the Grand Palace takes you past many of the city’s modern glories: sleek riverside apartments rub shoulders with gleaming hotel complexes and banks, but you also go past some of the beautiful old buildings such as the Aurum River Palace and glorious golden temples.
Grand Palace, Bangkok
We alighted at the Grand Palace, a highlight of any visit to Bangkok. The large complex covers over 200,000 square feet and has numerous buildings, halls, pavilions, and gardens within the palace walls. It has been the official residence of the Thai royal family for over 250 years. The Temple of the Emerald Buddha is possibly the most famous attraction, having a beautiful ornate golden tower. The Buddha itself is smaller than I expected, and is high up on a pedestal. Three times a year, the Thai king changes its gold garments to match the seasons. It is possible to spend a full day exploring the Palace, which is photogenic and interesting. We had lunch at a small café within the grounds, and then decided on a whim to visit the teakwood mansion (Vimanmek Palace), the King’s summer palace. This is a taxi ride away, but is well worth a visit. The admission price includes a tour, and artefacts on display include the photographs, art and handicrafts collected by King Rama V, who had the palace built in 1900. Not one nail was used during its construction, and it is the largest palace built of teak wood in the world.
After a hectic day of sightseeing we decided to go shopping at Patpong Market. This is an experience in itself. The market
Teakwood Mansion
is enormous and contains stalls selling everything from sunglasses to table lamps. Stallholders expect you to haggle, this is very much seen as part of the game and they all keep calculators behind the stall for easier bartering. The seller asks you to type in what you will pay, and then laughs hysterically at the pitiably low price, and then types in what they think you should pay. The pantomime continues until agreement is reached. 99% of the time, the stallholder will have got the better deal, without a doubt. Patpong is also part of Bangkok’s notorious red light districts. Women gather around the edges of the market and ask you to go see a sex show, and it doesn’t really matter what gender you are or who you are with. Everyone is fair game. My cousin was quite visibly pregnant but at every turn we were hassled by ladies (ladyboys?) of the night. At no point did we feel unsafe here however, the sex shows are essentially regarded as a tourist attraction and a bit of a joke. We finished off our time in this teeming city with a half day of shopping, some lovely and quite different shops in the malls here along the obligatory chain stores. Retail goods, like food and drink, are cheap here, and you can get a nice haul of souvenirs for not very much money.
Bangkok is a busy, overwhelming experience, but well worth it.
We caught the KTM train from Kuala Lumpur to Hat Yai, and stayed at the Sand Sea Resort, Railay Beach.
In Bangkok, we stayed at the Novotel.
Singapore (April 2003 and October 2009)
Posted: 31/01/2012 Filed under: Singapore | Tags: Singapore, Travel Leave a commentFeelin’ hot hot hot
Singapore Waterfront
I’ve been to Singapore twice, and the second time I fell in love with the place a lot more. The first time I was there, I was meeting my cousin who had travelled over from Taiwan. Our plan was to get the train from Singapore up to Kuala Lumpur, spend a few days there and then head up to Thailand for some R&R on a beach, before hitting the madness of Bangkok. My plane landed in mid afternoon and she was there to meet me. I remember having a very bizarre experience of walking out of the airport and not realising that I’d gone outside. This was my first real experience of this kind of humidity, and there’s really nothing like it. I was so used to walking out of a warm building into freezing cold air, that the experience of doing this the other way around really threw me. Stepping out of the air conditioning and into the streets of Singapore was a bit like walking into a giant greenhouse. You really can’t walk to the end of the road without breaking into a sweat. I’m not sure how anyone gets anything done there.
My memories of that first day in Singapore are mainly of trying to find the railway station, to book our tickets to KL. My cousin was maddening, refusing to get a taxi, even though they are actually quite cheap in Singapore, possibly because its so difficult to walk anywhere because of the heat. I ended up with swollen feet and blisters the size of golf balls, which required some action back at the hotel! We ended up staying at a pleasant hotel, with minute rooms, close to Little India. My lasting impression of Singapore on this first visit was that it was a bit like a “Disney” version of a city. Everything was spotlessly clean, and there are definable areas which look like tidy, well kept clichés. Chinatown, for example, has red lanterns everywhere and wooden shutters. Little India is full of boutiques selling saris and curry restaurants. The colonial district is all white stone and colonnades. I felt that there was no real heart here, and that it was Asia for people who don’t really like to travel and put up with the dirt and messiness of the continent’s buzzing, lively cities. It’s certainly a world away from Bangkok!
Conference proceedings…
The second time I went was for a conference with work (I know, lucky me!), and I felt I saw more of the city this time round and appreciated it more. This may be because I was 5 years older and much less tolerant of mess and noise… The
Singapore War Memorial
first evening we explored the Boat Quay area, which is close to the colonial district and is extremely popular with the Singapore ex-pat community. There are pubs designed to look like any you might find in London, and dozens of restaurants along the quayside. It’s premium prices in this part of Singapore, but it was a fantastic place to eat out. We chose a Chinese restaurant, an outside table overlooking the quay, watching the little duck boats coming in and out and admiring the view. The skyline from here resembles Manhattan, with huge gleaming towers on the other side of the river, and the cool, white Singapore cricket club sitting out in front. I explained to the waitress that I didn’t eat meat, and she appeared with a whole separate menu of vegetarian options. I ate very well here, as I did generally in Singapore. Vegetarianism is accepted and tolerated, and there was always an option at every place where we ate out.
Ginger plant at the Botanical Gardens
The next day was a free day, and we made the most of it by going to the Singapore Botanical Gardens. These are well worth a visit, just for the sheer “otherness” of the plants and trees growing here. If you’re used to the cool greenness of an English climate, the hot red ginger plants, exotic orchids and terrapins come as something of a surprise, unreasonably I suppose. Singapore is so much of an urban sprawl these days, that the botanical gardens do remind you that actually you are not so far from the jungle. Lunch was in Chinatown, at a tiny restaurant with the requisite red lanterns hanging outside. The most interesting thing about it was the wiener cart in the street, run by a German man who was selling bratwurst with sauerkraut to an appreciative Chinese audience. I gather he must be something of a tourist attraction, as large groups were crowding around to have their photographs taken with him and the cart, and he seemed to be doing brisk business with the food. He was also (oddly) selling t-shirts. Chinatown is an interesting enough place to while away an afternoon, lots of little shops to nose around in, and some Buddhist temples to visit. We were particularly taken with the Temple of the Tooth (possibly because we were there for a conference on oral health). I had a vest top on, and had to borrow a pashmina from the supply at the side to look around. It was a truly beautiful building, especially inside, where an ornate golden Buddha sits atop a platform, and there are small offerings built into the wall. The enormous building is not old however, only dating back to the 1980s.
Temple of the Tooth
Chinatown
Little India and Singapore Zoo
Divali Lights, Little India
That evening we went to Little India, it was Divali so the whole place was lit up with colourful elephant lights twinkling from the lampposts. Little India is a good value place to eat in an expensive city. I had a fabulous saag paneer with naan bread, and a couple of beers for just under £10. The next few days were taken up by the conference, but we did have some time in the evenings to explore. The conference’s welcome reception was held at Chijmes, a stunning looking
Chijmes
building in the colonial quarter, which was formerly a Catholic convent, the chapel of which was completed in 1904. It is now used as an all-purpose hall to stage events and is a national monument. It is on the edge of a complex of shops, restaurants and bars, and we ate out here after the reception. As night drew on, bats appeared out of nowhere, swooping low over our heads as we had some beers outside one of the restaurants. One evening we took the bus to the Singapore Zoo to do the night safari. I’m no big fan of zoos, but this one is pretty amazing. The night safari takes you on a journey on a mini train, and the animals are not behind bars but kept within their territories by a clever arrangement of hills and ditches. We all felt very close indeed to the lions, tigers and elephants we encountered. The one drawback is that you can’t take flash photographs (and really, in the dark, you are a bit stuck), which is fair enough but a bit disheartening when you see what would make for
excellent photographs passing by. There is also the opportunity to hop on and off and see some of the animals up close.
No flash photography!
Our second bat encounter was a tad hairy, we actually walked through the bat enclosure. These animals were huge, with a wingspan almost as big as the human arm span. A bit disconcerting when they are flapping around your head!
Clarke Quay and Raffles
Clarke Quay was our destination on our final evening. Clarke Quay is similar to Boat Quay, a collection of bars and restaurants by the water. Some of the bars were very – erm – strange! One was called “The Clinic”, and offered seats like wheelchairs, benches like hospital bedposts, and the opportunity to order your drink in a bag with a straw, looking like an intravenous drip! We avoided that one and instead opted for a wonderful Thai restaurant, where I ate a delicious pad Thai. On the following day, we did what all English people must do in Singapore, and went to the Long Bar at the Raffles Hotel. This was like
Raffles Hotel
stepping back in time, I felt like I was in a novel by Somerset Maugham. There are actual paper fans attached to the ceiling which waft back and forth, and peanut shells crinkle under your feet. The Singapore Slings we tried were surprisingly disappointing. I’m not a big fan of cocktails anyway, but these were nothing special, and actually looked like they’d been made by Beverley from Abigail’s Partycirca 1978, with glace cherries and umbrellas. The Hotel itself is quite beautiful though, and well worth a visit. Lovely courtyards and gardens abound, and the white stones feels
Statue showing children leaping into the bay
very cool and soothing, like a tranquil oasis. The first time I came here we weren’t really dressed for it, so ended up having a cold lemonade outside. We were surrounded by English people, and in some ways I felt I could have been anywhere. That last day also saw us having a good look around the colonial district, which really has some charming features: including some modern statues showing how weights and measures were developed, and a gleeful depiction of small children leaping into the sea. The Singapore War Memorial is impressive, a towering structure of white stone, bleak but at the same time quite striking. There is (of course) a statue of Raffles, who – according to the accompanying plaque – is credited with “changing the destiny of Singapore from an obscure fishing village into a great seaport and modern metropolis”. There is also the famous Merlion, which appears to be projectile vomiting into the water…
Singapore takes a little longer to love than some other cities I’ve been to, but stay here more than a couple of days and you see that there is a beating heart underneath the veneer of carefully constructed orderliness. As a port city, it attracts immigrants from all over the world, and in some areas of the city you really feel the diversity. It’s the sort of city that I could imagine myself living in for a short time, on the condition that I have air conditioning….
On my first trip I flew with Emirates from Manchester, on the second with Lufthansa (not recommended for long haul, appalling flight on old fashioned planes with no entertainment system and no leg room).
When I was paying, I stayed at the Albert Court Hotel, when I wasn’t I stayed at the Mandarin Oriental. Wow. The hotel to end all hotels as far as I’m concerned. Stunning room, stunning breakfast, stunning bar; it has ruined me for all hotels I’ll ever stay in ever again.
Rhodes, Greece, September 2011
Posted: 24/01/2012 Filed under: Greece | Tags: Falaraki, Greece, Ialyssos, Lindos, Rhodes, Travel Leave a commentHow can I have reached the age of 34 years and not been to Greece before? My cousin was almost cross with me for this lapse: “You have to go Annie, it’s gorgeous. You’ll love it.” My friend and I found a fairly cheap package deal and booked for Rhodes. This was mostly determined by the weather in September (where’s hot, and pretty, and still close enough to England that we can both afford? Greek Islands!). We had a slight delay on the way out, due to problems with air traffic control, but still arrived in the early evening. Our accommodation was basic self catering, it was OK, not brilliant. The shower was broken (you had to hold it above your head) and the sink leaked, but what the heck. It was less than £100 for a week, you can’t expect five star for that much. It was also a bit of a walk from the first destination on our “must see” list, Rhodes Old Town.
Getting lost
Rhodes Old Town
BIG beer
And now I’m going to be completely sexist and say that here was the first snag I hit about going on holiday with a man. They will not ask for directions. We had a map of sorts, and set out to find the Old Town. How hard could it be? It’s a TOWN. You’d think this would be difficult to miss. I myself am useless at reading a map, so I left it to him, who claimed to be very good at it. Except he wasn’t. We walked completely across the peninsula, missing the Old Town completely. We walked for almost 2 hours, and I ended up with enormous blisters as a result. My poor feet! We finally stumbled across it as the sun was starting to set. Rhodes Old Town is truly beautiful, justly designated a UNESCO world heritage site. The fortifications date back to the 14th century, when the island was occupied by the Knights Hospitallers, who stayed here for two centuries until they were defeated by the Ottomans. A large moat surrounds the Old Town, and there are numerous entrances around the city walls. The one that we found was close to the Church of the Virgin, a Byzantine church, now a ruin comprising of three perfectly proportioned stone arches. We found a bar nearby and sat down, automatically asking the barman for one large beer and a medium. The barman was clearly having a bit of a joke with us, because when he reappeared a few minutes later with the beer, he was laughing. The beer was ENORMOUS. We figured the large must be almost 4 English pints, the medium almost 2. They were in strange boot shaped glasses, almost impossible to drink out of without splashing beer into your eyes. You could definitely have fitted a small toddler’s leg in the medium glass, and possibly an adult woman’s into the large! Getting the bill was something of a shock, the Old Town is not a good place to go for drinks and food as you pay through the nose. The time had come to wander back, this time I insisted that we ask for directions, and we managed to make it back to the hotel bar without any incidents.
Some history, and I gain a temporary husband…
The day after we went to find the Acropolis, which is situated quite a long way from the Old Town, but not too far from our hotel. There isn’t a great deal left to see, some broken columns on the hill, but there is a small theatre. Unfortunately, this has been the subject of some invasive restoration work, which have ruined the look of the structure. As we were to
Me at the Acropolis in Rhodes
find, this was not uncommon in Rhodes. My friend was an archaeologist, and was showing off by picking pottery off the ground and telling me where it was made (you can tell by the thickness and the ridges around the top, apparently). We spent some time admiring the view from the Even Older Town, and then wandered down the port area of the Old Town. This is a gorgeous marina, featuring unusual medieval windmills and an old fort. We weighed up the opening to the port where the Colossus of Rhodes is supposed to have stood, to try and work out whether or not it was possible for his legs to have spanned the distance. The Colossus would have had to have been quite some height and built in situ. Our conclusion was that it was just about possible. We were just looking for a bar to have an early afternoon snifter, when we got caught by a young lad who asked us to do a couple of scratchcards. My friend got the top prize (an iPad, a holiday or a video camera). This would involve, said the young man, going to a hotel and looking around for an hour. OK we said, that doesn’t sound too arduous (I was extremely sceptical, but my friend was keen, understandably so if he thought he was getting an iPad). The most amusing part was that this “prize” was for couples only, so we had to pretend to be married for the next hour and a half. What actually happened was that we got taken to a hotel, given some sandwiches and squash (our eyes had lit up at the promise of “drinks”, ha, no alcohol for us!) and then given the hard sell on cheap hotel rooms by an (extremely patronising) twenty three year-old. When push came to shove we were told we’d get a holiday out of it (hedged with all kinds of conditions, of course). Then my friend actually lost the bit of paper we needed to claim it anyway, a waste of an afternoon!! Still, we withstood the questioning quite well, and managing to put up a convincing show as a world-weary married couple… We avoided the young man for the rest of the holiday, and for anyone who came near us with a scratchcard we shouted out “we’re not married”!
Harbour at Rhodes
Out and about
The problem with Rhodes Town is the traffic, even in the Old Town you risk being run over by a scooter and are constantly dodging out of the way. We decided on our second day to get away for a bit and caught the bus to Ialyssos. I really do recommend the bus service in Rhodes, for a few Euros you get a reliable service to most parts of the island. Ialyssos itself was asleep on the day we went (a Friday), there was a large empty market in the centre. But we hadn’t actually come here for the town, but for the walk and the view from the top of the hill. The walk itself is not particularly pretty, being mainly on a main road that meanders up the hillside. It’s at least a three mile walk to the top, abandoned, half built villas on the way signalling Greece’s financial problems. At the top of the hill is an enormous cross, which has an internal spiral staircase, which you can climb and then walk out onto the “arms” of the cross and see the amazing views. You can actually see all four coastlines from the top: a stunning vista of rolling fields, olive plantations surrounded by a clear azure sea. The cross is also a great place for people watching, there was a wedding going on there, it seemed most of the guests were from Liverpool. A very small world…
We had decided that when in Rhodes as an English tourist, we must do what English tourist must do, and spend a Saturday night in Falaraki. Falaraki has the reputation for tackiness of Benidorm and Aya Napa, and is basically a long stretch of sandy beach with dozens of bars and clubs along the main strip. It also features those bastions of English tourism: Maccy Ds, KFC, all day breakfasts, and signs promising Sky Sports and English soaps. We caught the bus there, but were sadly disappointed. We wanted tacky, we didn’t get it. Falaraki at the end of the season has an abandoned air about it. We wandered the full length of the (it has to be admitted) very lovely, sandy beach, and only really saw people walking dogs. The bars we went in were empty, and many of the clubs had closed for the summer. It was only September, and we were both surprised to find that the season was so very short there, especially as the weather was still beautifully hot and sunny. So bus back to Rhodes Town and dinner at a harbour front restaurant instead then…
Acropolis, Lindos
My friend was very interested in taking in some more history so towards the end of the week we caught the bus down to Lindos, further down the coast. This was around a 2 hour bus journey, but it turned out to be one of our best ideas (in fact, we ended up going there twice). Rhodes Old Town is very beautiful, but it doesn’t feel very “Greek” somehow, and the rest of the town is modern and full of cars. Lindos was different: it had a calmer feel, and felt much more traditional. Small, white-washed buildings, narrow streets with little traffic, apart from the donkeys which are used here largely as a tourist attraction. The town is dominated by the Acropolis, which sits atop a hill overlooking the rest of the town. On the first day we went (a Monday) it was closed and we were left disappointed. Instead, we found a gorgeous beach to sit and while away the afternoon, swimming, reading and having the odd cheeky beer. The beach was one of the few I’ve been to in Europe where you didn’t have to pay to sit on a lounger. There were even hammocks dotted around (and I made an idiot of myself by falling out of one. I’m blaming the beer!). This also gives Lindos an advantage over Rhodes Town, although Rhodes does have beaches, they aren’t as pleasant as the one we found at Lindos. In fact, we had such a nice afternoon we decided to go back there the next day, in the hope we might find the Acropolis open. And we did! Climbing the steps to the top of the hill is not for the faint of heart, but well worth the reward. The views from the
Lindos
Acropolis along the coast are stunning, and the building itself is quite beautiful, from the ornate carvings of boats in the walls to the crumbling columns. Unfortunately, the restorations have not been kind, and the temples at the top have been rebuilt in a crushingly modern style, in a way that I don’t think would have been allowed in England. There is a staggering amount of pottery debris lying around, we found a large amphora, almost in tact, to the side of the steps. Well worth coming back for. I also preferred the food at Lindos. The food at Rhodes Town was tourist fare, all pasta and pizza and chips. Lindos had more traditional options: lots of aubergine, feta, haloumi, and stuffed vine leaves. As vegetarians, we had no problem finding something tasty we could eat.
Beach at Lindos
Strike!!!
On our return to Rhodes Town we headed into the old Town for a few drinks as it was our final evening in Greece, again
Where the Colossus once stood
we paid through the nose for it. The waiters in our chosen bar were very entertaining though. When one young lad heard we hailed from Manchester he came out especially to chat about football. It was while we were sat outside that we heard that there was a 24 hour strike planned for the following day! RATS. It would affect air traffic control and our plans to get to the airport… As we checked out the next day the extremely helpful receptionist rang the airline for us to try and find out what was happening. Our flight had been delayed by 8 hours and was now due to depart in the early hours. This meant an extra 8 hours to while away in Rhodes. Oh what a shame!! (NOT). We spent the day hanging around the harbour, admiring the views, and the last of our summer sunshine. We knew the airport later would be hellish, with delayed, bad tempered holiday makers trying to make it home. But right then, we didn’t care. Sunshine, friendship, nice food, a beer, a view. This is the life…
We flew with Monarch (Manchester to Rhodes Town), and stayed at the Panorama Apartments.
Copenhagen, September 2011
Posted: 08/01/2012 Filed under: Denmark | Tags: Copenhagen, Denmark, Travel Leave a comment
Canals of Copenhagen
A year ago, one of my closest friends moved to Germany. While visiting her, it occurred to me that rather than going back and forth to our respective homes it might be more fun to meet up for a weekend elsewhere in Europe. So I did a little research into the cheapest flights from Manchester and Frankfurt, and came up with Copenhagen. I’d never been to Denmark before, and neither had she, so it seemed like a good choice. We invited another friend along for good measure, and booked into a hostel in the centre of town. Flights-wise, we did well and met up at the airport, taking the train into the middle of the city. I had heard about the excellence of public transport in Scandinavian countries and Denmark did not disappoint. Trains from the airport were every ten minutes, and the journey into town took 12 on a clean, punctual service. So far, so good! Copenhagen train station itself is an impressive enough building, Victorian archways vaulting to the ceiling, and a very traditional Scandinavian façade.
New Harbour area
The Danhostel turned out to be a 5 minute walk from the station, so we rattled our cases along the pavement, eschewing taxis and buses. We were all impressed with the hostel – all of us had stayed in one before, but not for some time. The smelly dorms and utilitarian, semi-military feel seems to have gone (in the Danish version at least) leaving a spotlessly clean, private room with bathroom and shower. In fact the only way to distinguish hostel living from any other budget hotel was the fact that we had bunk beds, and were presented with sheets and told we had to make up our own beds. Which was no problem, and at least it confirmed that all our bedding was clean. The hostel was actually enormous, 14 floors in total, with a TV room, internet café and laundry in the basement. It was a real find in terms of budget accommodation. Copenhagen, as we were to discover, is not a cheap city.
After a quick wash and brush up, the three of us wandered out for a stroll. We headed over the bridge and to the left on a whim, and ended up on a pleasant canal side walk. This part of Copenhagen is a mix of old and modern, with old renovated mills and buildings lining the canal side and ultra modern apartments and office blocks in between. These do not feel incongruous however, but fit into the city beautifully. Copenhagen is extremely flat with not a hill to be seen, so it is an easy city to walk around. We wandered past an impressive black granite building on the canalside, which turned out to be the new wing of the National Library – quite stunning, and obviously well designed to reflect the bouncing light on the water. Our meanderings brought us to the New Harbour area, just as the sun was starting to set. The New Harbour area was once the red light district in Copenhagen, the place where sailors would come for some slap and tickle after docking. Things have changed somewhat, and the area is now full of bars and restaurants in colourful, 17th century buildings. The New Harbour is a riot of colour, and sunset is the best time to admire the oranges, blues, reds and yellows. It is not, however, the best time to get a seat at a canalside bar, especially on a Friday! We walked a little further up and had a sit down and a coffee at one of the many coffee houses that are spread throughout the city. I was intrigued by the chocolate orange coffee, and ordering one was pleased to see them breaking up chunks of real chocolate to melt into the milky, fragrant coffee.
The Little Mermaid
We asked the advice of the helpful check in staff at the hostel about where we should eat that evening. The young man looked confused, and said he “never ate in town because it was too expensive”. We were to find out exactly what he meant! We had a bit of a wild goose chase across the bridge. Told to expect plenty of eateries, what we actually found was an Irish pub that didn’t serve food, but was packed to the rafters with people drinking beer. We asked the bar staff where we could find food, and they pointed vaguely to the right, so we wandered off in that direction. Still no restaurants. Feeling a bit like J.R. Hartley in the Yellow Pages adverts, we decided that we really weren’t going to find anything, so headed back to the hostel and tried a different direction, back into town. SCORE! Lots of restaurants and bars. This was not the cheap part of town though, as we realised when we scanned the menu at a pizzeria. £20 for a pizza, £8 for a glass of beer. Copenhagen is not a city for the partygoer then…
We finished our first night in the bar at the hostel, as this was the cheapest place we had found to drink. Even so, it was still £5 for a (very flat) pint of beer. In fact the whole long weekend was characterised by one or other of the three of us saying “how much?!! You’re KIDDING?!”. A good night’s sleep later (the bunk beds proved surprisingly comfortable) we awoke to a cloudy, drizzly day. What do you do in Copenhagen then? We opted for the open top bus tour. Frighteningly touristy as it may be, the open top bus is always well worth doing in a city in my opinion. Brilliant for orientation, and for transporting you to the must see places, where you can hop on and off. This ticket included an hour on a boat as well. So we spent the morning drinking in the sights of Copenhagen, with an English potted history. Tivoli gardens, the Rosenberg Slot, Amalienborg Palace, the government buildings, Christiana… We hopped off to take a picture of the Little Mermaid. I found her a tad disappointing if I’m honest. She’s quite small, and instead of staring out to sea for her lost love, she’s actually looking at wall. The biggest talking point for me here was that some tourists were videoing her. A STATUE. What were they expecting? That she would suddenly cast off her bronzed shell and stand up and walk?!
We finished our bus tour at the New Harbour. The Copenhagen Jazz Festival was in full swing there, and we boarded the
Christiana
boat with the Lady is a Tramp and Lullaby of Broadway as gentle background music. Despite the weather (really not conducive to a boat trip) the tour of Copenhagen by canal was much more interesting than the bus tour. We went past many of the same buildings but learned a lot more history and got a different perspective. There was also a whistle stop tour of the naval docks with a glimpse of imposing Danish battleships. We emerged from the experience a little damp, and decided to eat a late lunch at one of the bars on the canalside. This proved to be a good choice, many traditional Danish classics on the menu to try, including the famous open sandwich. We were also kept entertained by a large group of Danes on a lunchtime drinking binge, who had somehow acquired a large number of hats and were amusing themselves by trying them on and having photographs taken. The mood in the bar was giddy to say the least!
My friend was keen to spend some time at Christiania after our refreshments. Christiania is fascinating. A self-proclaimed “autonomous” neighbourhood, it’s what you could call the “hippy district” of Copenhagen. It is basically a large commune, home to around 850 residents. It was founded in the early 1970s as part of a protest against the high cost of housing in the capital, and has long been a thorn in the side of the Danish government. Judging by the heady scent of marijuana in the air, attempts to stop the sale of the drug have not been successful. Until 2004, softer drugs were sold openly on “Pusher Street” but now the sale has gone underground. Harder drugs have always been frowned upon there. Today it is a collection of stalls and temporary-looking buildings, covering around 84 acres. Tourists are welcomed, and it does feel like a safe environment. There are many stalls selling tourist tat, and several cafes. This is the place to come for a “cheap” beer as the prices were much more UK standard than any other area I found in the centre of Copenhagen. One large building, which looked like the equivalent of a town hall, was offering a very cheap meal of soup and salad along with an art exhibition featuring Christiania artists. Alongside that was a really interesting photo montage of the history of Christiania itself, documenting the many changes and protests and police raids over the last 40 years. We also found a very touristy gift shop, which shows that not even hippy communes are immune from commercial pressures these days!
Tivoli Gardens
We had much discussion about what to do that evening. We decided to chicken out and eat at Wagamama, a place we knew would have tasty food at respectable (for Denmark) prices, and then head to Tivoli Gardens for the rest of the night. Tivoli is basically an old-fashioned fairground, which reminded me a lot of Blackpool Pleasure Beach, but perhaps even more stuck in the 19th century. All the rides looked extremely old and rickety: wooden-tracked roller coasters and pendulum type affairs. The top end of Tivoli has restaurants and gift shops, with more lights than Oxford Street at Christmas I’d imagine. As you head deeper into the gardens, there is a lake and Chinese pagoda, and gorgeous gardens. The bottom end is tackiness personified, with the equivalent of stalls selling “Kiss-me-Quick” hats, and those games that you don’t see anywhere except on fairground stalls – the kind where you can bet on a mechanical horse race or hook a duck. We didn’t actually go on any of the rides as the prices were (again!) prohibitive, and actually, the other girls didn’t much fancy trusting their lives to 100 year old fairground rides. We settled down for a beer instead at one of the bars next to the lake, and watched the world go by. Sitting by a lake in a garden at night, the air punctuated by the screams and squeals of excited fairground patrons being turned upside down is a very surreal experience. We stayed for the end of the night laser show at midnight, in which they projected colourful, dancing lights around the lake. It was good, but probably not worth staying for. I’d been (wrongly) led to believe there would also be fireworks, so the whole thing was a tad disappointing to me.
Sunday took us to the Rosenborg Palace, a 17thcentury castle and the seat of the Danish Royal Family. The actual
Rosenberg Palace
building and grounds are wonderful, but as a museum it left quite a lot to be desired. There are rooms filled with artefacts, but they have replaced all of their information boards with QR codes. As I couldn’t pick up a signal on my mobile in the castle (and there were signs actually saying “no mobile phones”), QR codes were absolutely useless and I found myself wondering constantly what things were as there was no explanation. The thing that made the visit worthwhile for me was the incredible tapestries in the long room at the top of the castle. These are a series depicting the wars between the Danish and the Swedes in incredible detail, social and naval history writ large upon them. I found them much more worthy of attention than the Treasury, which contains the Danish crown jewels. These were very beautiful, but again, there was no proper signage or information about them.
Icebar Copenhagen
After a stroll around the grounds, we headed back to the hotel, and discovered our two major finds of the weekend: a restaurant called RizRaz, and that Copenhagen has an Icebar. Brilliant. That was our evening sorted out. I remembered after I saw it that RizRaz was actually a recommendation from a friend who had been with her Danish husband. As a fellow vegetarian, she had told me that it was excellent for veggie food. She wasn’t wrong. For ten euros, there was an all you can eat buffet, which was all vegetarian. Not only did this include around ten varieties of salad, there was also veggie lasagne, veggie pasta and other savoury delights. The meat eaters in the party were happy enough themselves as RizRaz also does a mean line in steaks and chicken skewers. Hooray – somewhere that is value for money in Copenhagen! Two platefuls of food later, and a half a carafe of wine, we headed over to the Icebar. This was entirely my friend’s idea. She had mooted the idea of getting married in the Ice Hotel in Sweden at one point, only deciding against it when she realised how far elderly relatives would have to travel, so she was very keen to see the inside of the place. We were bundled up into cloaks by the saleslady, who also gave us all a pair of sturdy gloves, then ushered into the bar. This really was an experience. Tables, seats, and the bar itself all lovingly carved out of huge blocks of ice. There was even an icy Rolls Royce projecting from the wall. The place only served cocktails, but almost all on the menu were new to me. I’m no great fan of the cocktail, but these came in glasses entirely made of ice and were a thing of beauty in themselves. We had two each and took lots of photos, before deciding we could stand the cold no longer, and stopped at the entrance to watch an entertaining little film about how the Icebar was built. Like much in Copenhagen, the Icebar wasn’t cheap but it was a highlight of our stay. Back at the hotel we found the bar had already closed, at 10pm. Confirming indeed that Copenhagen is NOT a party town. After an enforced early night, we awoke in plenty of time to check out and hit the shops for our last morning. I’m not really much of a shopper, but the other girls enjoyed themselves hugely trying on clothes and looking at enormously expensive handbags (having said that though, I was the only one to come out of the shopping trip having bought anything!).
So is Copenhagen wonderful? Yes, it’s lovely and well worth a visit. Only, make sure that you take twice the amount of money that you’d take away on a long weekend. You’ll need it!
2011 – My Year
Posted: 02/01/2012 Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: 2011, Travel Leave a commentYes, I’m going to tediously do what everyone on the blogosphere does and write about the last year. This is entirely for my benefit really, just seemed appropriate to blog it!
So here goes:
Non-league football matches attended: 3
Meals out (not including on holiday): 17 (in Manchester: Zouk, Thomas Restaurant, Trof, Grado x 2, the Lime Tree, The Christie, Albert’s Shed, Pizza Express – twice, once with the ex work colleagues, one with Ruthie G, Tampopo, Green’s, Nandos; in Tameside: Ferratis, Red Rose; in Saddleworth: the Cross Keys; in London: Bella Italia in Covent Garden)
Cinema visits: 5 (must do better next year): King’s Speech, Bridesmaids, the Skin I Live In, We Need to Talk About Kevin, the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
Ice skating trips: 1 (I’m not very good)
Takeaway curries: 8
Fancy dress parties: 1 (I was a flapper. That’s right, I said FLapper)
Holidays/weekends away: 7: Dubai, Heidelberg, Lake District, Turkey, Copenhagen, Greece, New York… How lucky am I????
Dinners under the world’s tallest building: 1
Fish pedicures: 1
Work jollies: 6 (Radisson Edwardian, Manchester; Belfast; York; Madrid; London; New York… Lucky, lucky, lucky)
Walks: 6 (Castleton twice, Dunham Massey, Tyldesley, Dovestones twice – must do better next year)
Beer walks: 1 (and ten pints!)
Pints in an Edwardian gin palace: 3
Book chapters published: 1
Posters displayed: 1
Comedy gigs: 2 (not nearly enough – Mark Thomas, Mitch Benn)
Time stood on World’s Biggest Wine Barrel: 5 minutes
Books read: 39 (including Millennium Trilogy and Keep the Aspidistra Flying and a Prayer for Owen Meaney)
Wine tastings: 1 (more of a wine quaffing, as it turned out)
Walks on pure calcium at Pamakkale: 1
Wooden horses seen: 2
Wonders of the World seen: 2 (Temple of Artemis, site of the Colossus of Rhodes)
Mosques toured: 3 (including the STUNNING Blue Mosque)
Turkish towns and cities visited: 6 (Istanbul, Cannakale, Pamakkale, Selcuk, Fethiye, Antalya)
Rock nights: 1 (at the Retro Club, Manchester)
Country shows attended: 1
Whit Walks attended: 1
Spa weekends: 3 (in Rochdale, Hyde and Otley: ooo the glamour!)
Festivals attended: 1 (Beech Road Festival, Chorlton, Manchester. It is no more. Sob.)
Jury service completed: 2 weeks. I want to never do it again
Trips to York: 2 (1 work, 1 pleasure)
Yoga classes attended: 9 (start again next week – yay!)
Theatre visits: 1 (Terrible. Must do better!! Edward II at the Royal Exchange, Manchester)
Time spent on a boat on the canals of Copenhagen: 1 hour
Concerts attended: 1 (James)
Acropolises (Acropoli?) seen: 2 (Lindos and Rhodes Town)
Art galleries browsed around: 4 (the Prado in Madrid; the Reina Sophia in Madrid; the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York; the Guggenheim, New York)
Courses done: 2
Workshops taught: 2
Days on strike: 1
Family parties: 1 (why why why don’t we have more?)
Empire State Buildings: 1
Statues of Liberty: 1
Christmas markets attended: 1
Babies cuddled: 3
Dubai (April 2004 and February 2011)
Posted: 08/11/2011 Filed under: United Arab Emirates | Tags: Dubai, Travel, UAE Leave a comment
Dubai Creek
In 2003, a close friend moved to the United Arab Emirates to work in a college, and the following year I went out to meet her. My friend had been going to Dubai for several years to visit friends out there and had fallen in love with the place and the lifestyle, and had been looking for work out there for some time. I arrived late at night, but she was there to pick me up in an enormous four wheel drive. She explained that everyone drives these type of cars in Dubai, and that the roads are so manic that a smaller car wouldn’t cut it. She just wouldn’t have felt safe in her old Vauxhall Corsa. As soon as we hit the highways, I could see exactly what she meant. Even at 1am, the traffic was busy, enormous 4x4s whizzing past. No-one seemed to indicate at any point, which made switching lanes on four lane highways interesting! My friend was living in a beautiful apartment, not too far from the airport. It was a two bedroomed flat, but my own little two bedroomed house would have fitted in there at least twice over. Enormous rooms with shiny tiled floors, and a bathroom for each bedroom. A balcony stretched the length of the sizable lounge. The bed in my room was king sized, but the bed in my friend’s room was even bigger than that, a mammoth sized thing which could probably sleep 5 or 6 people at a push!
So what is there to do in Dubai? Well, the triple gods of sunbathing, shopping and eating out seem to be the main delights on offer, not much to engage a history buff like me. The authorities have made some attempt to promote Bedouin culture by building a modern “heritage village” around Dubai Creek. The word “creek” makes it sound like a small chuckling brook
Dubai Heritage Village
running through a valley, but the creek is actually a wide river, which opens out into Gulf. Creekside is lined with shiny skyscrapers, banks and businesses. At the far end, just where it meets the sea, you can find the Heritage Village, which is a recreation of Dubai’s past, including a display of Bedouin tents and some craft stalls and potters wares. Dubai also has a small museum in the city’s old fort, possibly one of the oldest buildings in the city. Close by is Al Bastakiya, which is built into a network of old houses, which have distinctive barjeels (wind towers) at each corner. These are often found in Persian houses, and were a clever form of ventilation in the days before air conditioning. Al Bastakiya is by far my favourite place in Dubai, you can lose yourself in tiny alleyways in the complex, and come across some interesting little art gallerys and artisan shops. Also in there is the Basta Art Café, a very lovely place to eat and drink coffee, built around a courtyard and a haven from the bustling city outside. My friend took me here for a drink (all non-alcoholic) on our first evening, after a pedicure at the M-Bar. The service industry is just amazing in Dubai, if you have money there is the opportunity to live a very opulent lifestyle, but then there is the flip side of the people who actually work there.
Al Bastakiya
I wondered aloud about the coach park I could see from my friend’s apartment. It looked a little incongruous, the buses were really old and rickety, and didn’t look like tourist buses. She explained that the workers live in labour camps outside the city and get bussed in each day. Prices are so high in the city that they can’t afford to live there. A whole other side to Dubai that the tourist doesn’t see underneath the shiny, moneyed veneer. The Filipino ladies who did my pedicure get paid peanuts, and are all sending money home to their families. In 2004, there were also hundreds of people from developing countries working in the construction industry, Dubai is a city built on cheap labour. I was in Dubai at the time that the World and the Palms were being worked on, complexes of expensive villas and hotels being built on reclaimed land in the sea. From Jumierah Beach, you could see cranes on the horizon, in fact the landscape was full of cranes, as far as the eye could see. It was a different story when I returned in February 2011. This time I was out there to visit my cousin and her family, who had moved to Dubai from Malaysia. After more than a decade of living abroad, my cousin is the ultimate ex-pat, well versed in how to make friends in the ex-pat community and very “easy come, easy go” about the people she knows. Her husband works in construction, and was there when the bottom fell out of the market in 2009. He told me that his company was recruiting people in Britain, people who were giving up their jobs and homes to come out, and then being told at the airport that there was no job for them after all. The cranes have all but gone, although he said there was enough work to keep him going and that things were starting to pick up again.
I also noticed that the city had grown massively in the 6 years since my last visit. The first time I drove down Sheik Zayed Road, it reminded me of a film set, the massive towers and skyscrapers like Manhatten, but nothing behind them. Now
Burj Khalifa
there are more buildings spreading out on either side as the city moves out into the desert. The area where my cousin’s villa is located used to be thought of as a bit “out of the way” but now estates of new homes and offices have filled the space between Arabian Ranches and the city centre. Also new since my last visit was the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world. Dubai goes in for the “biggest in the world” a lot, a form of gigantomania which smacks of insecurity. I remember going to the Petronas Twin Towers in Kuala Lumpur and seeing a chart showing the tallest buildings and where they were located – often there was just an aerial or a few feet which made the difference. Burj Khalifa is different, it is the tallest by a country mile. It is certainly cleverly constructed, and resembles a rocket, especially at night. We went for a meal under it’s shadow, and also got treated to the fountain display. They are, of course, The Biggest Fountains in the World, and are co-ordinated to synch with music. It is quite an impressive sight as the sun goes down.
My cousin took me to see the now-completed Palm, a very odd concept because it only really makes sense if you see it from above. From the ground, you don’t get any impression at all of being on a palm leaf, there is a road down the middle and then the “fronds” fan out from this, with progressively bigger and more secluded villas with their own private beaches. At the very end of the road is the monstrosity that is Atlantis, an overblown hotel complex which looks like someone plucked it out of Las Vegas and plonked it on the end of the road. At it’s centre is “the Biggest Aquarium in the World”, which also sports (in case you couldn’t guess) “the Biggest Pane of Glass in the World”. The aquarium is actually quite something, hoards of enormous, brightly coloured fish darting around. After being told off several times for going to the wrong areas of the hotel (it really must be one of the most security conscious hotels in the world, with bouncers on every corridor), we headed off to see another monstrosity: Ski Dubai. This was in the throes of being built on my last visit, a ski slope with real snow, inside a dome within a shopping centre. My cousin’s children had been and loved it, this had been their first experience of snow, they were both brought up in the tropics and have only come back to the UK in the summer so had never seen it before. I suppose that is one reason to go, but I couldn’t help thinking what a waste of energy it must be. When people in Britain are putting on extra jumpers and turning down the heating to save energy, here in Dubai they are running a giant freezer in the desert so that rich ex-pats can play in the snow! But there are lots of things that make me worried in Dubai, like the number of green areas in the city. The amount of water that they must be using to keep these up whilst other places are struggling… the mind boggles.
Atlantis, on the Palm
If you can close your mind to all this (and I’m not sure I could) the ex-pats have a very good lifestyle indeed. Dubai pays good salaries to westerners, and villas with maids and pools are the norm. Several areas to eat and drink have sprung up, the most impressive possibly being the Madinat Jumeriah, which has been designed to look like an old Arabian souk, with wind towers, and a mock creek running through the centre, where you can catch an abra (small boat) between the bars, restaurants and shops. The quality of the food in restaurants is high here, I had a girls night out with my cousin and her friends. The food was great, and some of the bars we went to were stunning, a special mention to Segreto, which has romantic views over the water and the tinkling fairy-lights of the Madinat. Some of the wealth is ridiculous, we went to pick up my cousin’s youngest daughter from a friend’s house. Friend’s mansion might be more like it. 5 cars in the driveway (including a brand new Rolls Royce), and tales from Emily of 3 nannies, elevators, and chefs just to prepare food for the 4 children of the house. How the other half live indeed!
So it is a place of gorgeous beaches, opulent lifestyles and has “the biggest this or that” in the world. It’s also a frustrating place, with some troubling issues behind the sparkly tourist façade. I would say go, though, just to see…
Lake Garda, June 2009
Posted: 16/10/2011 Filed under: Italy | Tags: Italy, Lake Garda, Travel, Weddings Leave a commentLake Garda in the summer of 2009 was wet. Very wet. Torrentially wet. The rain absolutely poured for all the time I was
Boats on the lake
in Malcesine. Which just goes to show, that you can’t guarantee the weather even if you decide to get married abroad, in a hot Mediterranean country in the middle of summer. I travelled to the Italian Lakes for the wedding of my friend Ruth, who is one of my very oldest friends. We first met at the age of 7 at school, and became firm friends at high school. We lost touch briefly when we were in our early 20s, but apart from this hiatus, she’s pretty much been a part of my life as long as I can remember. So when she announced that she was marrying her partner in Italy, there was no way I wasn’t going to go along for the big day. So I booked my flight, and planned my journey, and headed off into the great blue yonder, all on my own. I love flying alone. Airports and planes always feel to me like a very safe environment, and that concentrated time to yourself, to read trashy magazines, shop where you want to shop, eat what you want to eat, is very liberating somehow. My first flight ever was to Singapore, on my own, with a brief stopover in Dubai, and I learned to appreciate the whole experience of solo travel on that 12 hour journey. The flight (with British Airways) was to Verona and was frankly, one of the best flights I’ve ever had. I had three seats to myself for the whole journey, even after changing planes at London Gatwick. The cabin crew were fantastic, and I arrived in Verona feeling relaxed and ready for the weekend ahead.
The first crisis arrived when I got to the airport. I had arranged for a transfer to Malcesine from Verona Airport, as this seemed a bit less scary than doing the bus thing alone, but it was nowhere to be seen. I waited. I scoured the crowds looking for my name. As everyone disappeared, there was still no transfer… I headed up to the information point after giving it 15 minutes, hoping that they at least spoke English, when I spotted a harassed looking man with a sign. Ah, so HE was my man. Phew. The second problem was that the shared transfer also involved my friend’s aunt. I had been forewarned about her being a “difficult” character, and it didn’t take long for her to twig that I was also going to the wedding. She chatted to me all the way (an hour’s journey) and confessed that as a vegetarian, she wasn’t looking forward to the food. I was astounded at this, I have been a vegetarian for many years, and Italian has always been my favourite cuisine. I find it caters brilliantly for non-meat eaters. She wasn’t impressed at all, she had booked herself into a hotel owned by a Thai couple, and intended to eat there instead. I managed to distract her from complaining about my friend’s utter selfishness in marrying abroad and got her instead onto the subject of Istanbul, a city she knew well and which I was due to visit in a couple of months’ time. This kept the conversation going for the rest of the journey, until I arrived at my hotel. She asked if I wanted to join her for dinner, but I mumbled something about “seeing what everyone else was doing” and shuffled off with my case.
I had some difficulty finding a hotel in Malcesine. Many of the hotels won’t provide a room at single rate, so you pay through the nose. I’d eventually found a reasonably priced B&B online, who were happy
My hotel
for me to stay. I was a bit dubious about it, as I couldn’t find any reviews and didn’t really know what to expect. My worst fear was staying in a hotel miles away from the rest of the wedding party, but I needn’t have worried. Location-wise, the Albergo Aurora was perfect, at one side of a square right in the middle of town, just a ten minute walk from Malcesine Castle, the wedding venue. The shores of Lake Garda were two or three minutes walk in the other direction. The room was clean, if old-fashioned, and I liked it. After unpacking, I was at a loss as to what to do next, so I decided that what I needed to do was eat lunch, after all, I had been raving about the food during the transfer. I headed out to the square. Diagonally opposite my hotel was a lovely restaurant, serving simple fare but beautifully done. I was soon tucking into caprese with a cold glass of beer, followed by an incredibly rich gnocchi in four cheese sauce. All delicious. Just as I was finishing my second course, the bride herself appeared with the groom. They had driven across from England and arrived a few days before. They both looked surprisingly unphased by the upcoming nuptials, as well as the prospect of having to entertain 30 friends and family over the next few days. I’m not sure I would ever get married abroad for this reason alone! We had a noisy, gossipy reunion, and then headed off to a bar by the lake for drinks. Lake Garda is enormous. I’ve been to seas that seem less expansive. It is the largest lake in Italy, and it supports numerous small towns and communities dotted along the shore line. There are several islands in the middle. The lake is 30 miles long and 9 miles wide, the deepest part is 346 metres, and it holds an incredible 50 cubic kilometres of water. Malcesine itself has a population of around 3,500, but this is swelled during the tourist season. It seems to be especially popular with German tourists, there were dozens in Malcesine, and almost every shop sold Haribo! Whether this is because it is in close proximity to the Austrian border, or because the German poet Goethe spent the night here, I’m not sure. Goethe had an unhappy time in Malcesine, he spent his night being questioned by the authorities after being accused of being a spy. Still, the people of the town are proud enough of the connection that they have dedicated a room in the castle to Goethe and his visit.
I arrived on the Thursday, and the wedding was due to take place on the Saturday. The lead up to the big day was mainly spent meeting up with people, lunching by the lake, and going for walks on the shore. I awoke early on the Friday, and
Lake Garda
enjoyed a solitary stroll by the lake, choosing a spot to sit and read for a while. I also engaged in a little game of “spot the nationality”, a game I often play when abroad. I watch people approach at a distance and try and guess where they’re from, and confirm it by listening which language they talk when they come past. This is one way of telling whether the national stereotypes are accurate or not! It wasn’t much of a sport in Malecesine though, as 90% of the people were German or Austrian. On the Friday night, I had an early dinner in a lovely restaurant. I couldn’t resist having three courses at any of the meals I had as the food, though uncomplicated, was so tasty. This time it was bruscetta with mushrooms and garlic. Obviously essentially this is mushrooms on toast, but the bread was so good, and the mushrooms so delicious, that even this simple food was well out of the ordinary. Then I had a very unadorned main course of spaghetti napolitana, the tomatoes being fresh, juicy and with a rich flavour you just don’t get in the watery fare from the supermarkets in Britain. The plan was for me to go up to the bride and groom’s hotel after dinner to meet up with the rest of the wedding party for drinks, but I got caught in a torrential downpour. The rain coursed through the town, I battled up the hill against a good six inches of water covering my feet, before giving up and going back to my hotel, drenched to the skin. I decided to pamper myself instead with my duty free purchases, and prepare for the big day. I was also biting my lip a bit and checking the skies, would the rain ruin the wedding?!
Wedding Venue
The wedding itself was to take place in Malcesine castle on the Saturday afternoon. Quite a business these days, it was the second of three weddings taking place there that day. I decided to head out in the morning and take some photographs of the castle before the wedding. The walk to the castle was interesting in itself. There was a really amazing little junk shop on the way, which seemed to have everything: old chairs, gramophone records, watering cans, candlesticks, a tailor’s dummy, and a massive wheel of parmesan cheese. I went off course a little down the hill and came across two amazing sculptures on the lakeside, one was a cross between a turtle and a man, the other, a bronze man with his head on his knees, glumly gazing down rather than at the incredible view across the lake. Walking up again, I came across the Captain’s Palace, which I understood was an alternative venue they had been offered for the wedding. This is a delightful little building, which was once where the Captain of the Lake had his headquarters. A charming curved entrance leads to pretty gardens on the lakeside. After admiring the view for a while, I set off for my main target of the morning, the castle. This dominates the town, on the edge of the lake. It has a single, pentagonal-shaped tower, which I decided to climb to get a better view of the lake. The castle was a puzzle to me. There is the Goethe room, which is well laid out, telling the tale of Goethe’s stay in the town, and an interesting museum which takes you through some history of Lake Garda, but I could find very little signage or information about the castle itself. The museum about the lake is interesting to a point, lots of detail about the depth, circumference and wildlife to be found there, and some interesting snippets about the transport of Venetian gondolas over the mountains to the lake in the medieval period. However, halfway up the tower, tacked to the wall, I found a typewritten A4 sheet, all in English, barely decipherable in the gloom which answered my questions about the history of the structure. The castle is believed to have been first established by the Lombards, who built a lakeside fort in the 1st century. This was rebuilt and fortified and the present structure dates from around the 6th century. It passed into the hands of the Venetians in the 15th century, after several changes of ownership amongst the baronial families of the region. It was briefly occupied by the French during the Napoleonic Wars, and the Austrians renovated the building substantially during the 18th and 19th centuries. It’s certainly a picturesque and interesting place to spend a morning.
I was still anxiously watching the skies as I came back down the hill to my hotel to get ready for the wedding, which was due to take place outside in a courtyard next to the castle’s tower. I had seen the chairs and gazebo all laid out and waiting, but the sky was ominously dark. I got my glad rags on (actually a dress from Marks and Spencer’s) and then wandered up to a bar below the castle walls, where we all met up with a glass of proscecco, and calmed the groom’s nerves (actually an exaggeration, as he still seemed completely unphased and cool about the whole business!). Unfortunately the heavens opened while we were in the bar, and the rain poured. Again. The wedding party walked up to the castle in a brief hiatus and were told on arrival that the wedding was now to take place indoors, in a pleasant building to the side of the castle normally used as an art gallery. The ceremony itself was beautifully planned, a string quartet played for us as we entered the building, and the bride and groom looked radiant. They had decided to have the ceremony in Italian, with a translation, a lovely touch I thought. We then dutifully posed for photographs, and left the bride and groom with the photographer as we went back to the bar to wait for the next stage in the wedding day – a boat cruise on the lake. This was a great idea in theory, but the weather was not kind and the beautifully coiffered, glamorous wedding party took to the open-topped boat in choppy waters with some trepidation. Fortunately, I was sat near the groom’s sister, who managed to keep topping up my glass with prosecco, to guard against the windchill factor. An hour later, I wobbled from the boat and headed unsteadily to a beautiful whitewashed restaurant under the castle, with stunning views across the lake. The venue for the reception. The meal was the most magnificent I have ever eaten. 8 courses, from delicate ribbon pasta with courgettes, to saffron pancakes, to the final profiterole cum wedding cake. A good time had by all.
View from Mount Baldo
Next morning, feeling the worse for wear, I slept late and then headed to the cable car to meet the rest of the wedding party for a trip up Mount Baldo. Mount Baldo is behind the town, and at 7,000 feet, offers incredible views for miles around of the lake and hills. A stroll over the top and a café latte at the restaurant at the top, and I was fortified for an evening of pizza and conversation, a lovely way to round off my first experience of a wedding abroad.
Amman, Jerash and the Dead Sea
Posted: 20/09/2011 Filed under: Jordan | Tags: Amman, Dead Sea, Jerash, Jordan Leave a comment
The growing city of Amman
I spent 2 weeks in Jordan in August 2010 with my friend Sarah, and it was possibly the best trip I’ve ever taken. Jordan is a fabulous country, and a great place to visit for a couple of weeks – just small enough to get around easily, but with so much to see and do that you find it difficult to pack it all in. We flew from Birmingham with Lufthansa, changing at Frankfurt. Sarah was working in Germany at the time and had a Lufthansa gold card, so we enjoyed use of the lounges, a first for me! Gin and tonics, free snacks (including some very tasty noodles at Frankfurt) and comfort. Possibly my most enjoyable flight ever. It helped that the flight from Frankfurt to Amman was almost empty, so we got to lie down and have a nap on the way. We arrived at 1am, and luckily found a taxi almost straight away. The driver chatted to us all the way back to our hotel, firing questions at us, and had us giggling as he tried (unsuccessfully) to impress us enough to want to spend our entire time being driven around by him. Almost every taxi driver you meet in Jordan is like this, not content with taking you from A to B, they all know that the real money is in you hiring them as a driver for two weeks. We took his card, and promised to keep him in mind.
The hotel (booked by me almost at random) came as a complete surprise. We weren’t expecting much, but it turned out to be a stunning little hotel in one of the back streets of the city, clearly catering to a business clientele. There was tight security on the way in, and bags and people had to go through a scanner. This is because Jordan has had it’s own problems, in 2005 three hotels known to be frequented by westerners were targeted by suicide bombers, killing 60. However, there was no sense of danger as we checked in and were shown to a bright, spacious room, clean and on a par with business class hotels in the UK. We woke to a delicious breakfast, fruit, yoghurt and coffee, with omelettes and scrambled eggs made to order. We decided to use our first day in Amman to look around the city itself. We took a taxi downtown and marvelled at the sheer size of the city. 2.8 million live in the Amman area, over a third of the population. It is extremely built up, browny cream 4 or 5 storey buildings stretch to the skyline with barely a tree in between. Amman as a city is growing quickly, immigrants pile in from neighbouring Palestine, Iraq and Egypt. Jordan is a largely peaceful country in the midst of the tinder box that is the Middle East, so it’s not surprising that the number of immigrants is so high.
Giant Roman hand at Amman Citadel
We started our Jordanian adventure in the Citadel, the remains of Roman Amman. The taxi driver dropped us off at the entrance on Citadel Hill, and we were collared by a guide on the way in. Thinking that it might actually be quite good to have someone to tell us some history, we agreed a price for him to show us around. The guide was good value, he told us all about the history of the site. It dates back to around 180 AD, and the Temple of Hercules is said to have been commissioned by Marcus Aurelius. However, pottery from the Neolithic period has also been found here making it one of the world’s oldest continuous occupied sites. The area now looks like a huge Roman junkyard, with parts of columns and statues scattered across the hill, including a giant hand. The guide took us into one tomb to demonstrate how the light was designed to come in at a certain angle to highlight the alter. He left us at the entrance to the small museum, explaining that he was not allowed to come in with us and advising us on what we should see. The museum is tiny, not much more than a single room, but has some fascinating artefacts on display.
Roman Amphitheatre, Amman
Then came the trouble. As we left the museum, intending to go to the Roman Amphitheatre, the guide muscled in and insisted on showing us the way. Taking us down some very precarious steps and along a path that seemed very insecure, he then marshalled our way along some very busy city streets. We weren’t at all sure how to get rid of him, or how much this extra “added service” was going to cost us. When we arrived at the amphitheatre, we firmly said goodbye and asked how much we owed, but he insisted on taking us first to meet his sister, who turned out to be running a shop just above the amphitheatre entrance. Hmmmm, very convenient! We paid him some money for guiding us to the amphitheatre, had a polite and cursory look around the tacky souvenir shop and headed back down to the theatre, wiser in the ways of the guide. We would manage to avoid them for the rest of the holiday. The Roman theatre is definitely worth a visit, it is the largest in Jordan, and could have seated 6,000 in it’s heyday. In 2006, this was the scene of a tragedy, when 5 western tourists were shot by a gunman, one killed. It seemed very remote from us on this day, a bright August afternoon, with sunny blue skies. We were almost the only people there. We did have our own strange experience there though. Sitting on the very top seats of the theatre, drinking in the view (you can see the citadel, perched on top of the hill from there), we noticed a young man in a white baseball cap. When we moved, he moved. He kept coming closer to us, sitting down eventually a few feet away. He seemed keen to get our attention, for what, we weren’t sure, but it did not make the visit a pleasant experience, and we quickly left to explore the streets of the city. Amman is not geared for tourists, and the streets themselves are dusty and ordinary and downtown seems poor, at odds with the shiny new buildings you find in other Middle Eastern states. There are some, but they are few and far between. Both of us remarked on the very few women that seemed to be out and about on the streets, we barely saw any, and those we did see were accompanied by a man.
Hadrian's Gate, Jerash
The one problem with our hotel appeared to be the location. Our bungled pronounciation of the name didn’t help, but even presenting taxi drivers with the card and a map did not seem to help. We hailed a taxi on the street and the driver had such difficulty understanding that he ended up stopping random people in the street and finding out if they spoke English and could translate. Eventually, he ran off into a shop and came out looking harassed but more confident about where he was going. He seemed to look upon us as a bit of a nuisance, and certainly didn’t offer us his card or to drive us around for the rest of our trip! We ate that night at the hotel, and booked ourselves a driver for the next day to Jerash, approximately an hour away. The driver turned out to be a very handsome man with incredibly long eyelashes, who was also quiet and not intrusive so we both quite enjoyed the journey, chatting about this and that. We arrived at Jerash in the heat of the midday sun. Jerash was a Roman city, also known as Antioch on the Golden River. It was already inhabited in the Bronze age, but much of what you can now see was built from around 100AD to 400AD. It is one of the best preserved Roman cities in the Near East, certainly the best preserved I have seen, with the possible exception of Ephesus in Turkey. On approach you come to Hadrian’s Gate, which was built to celebrate the visit of the Emperor Hadrian in 129 AD. It’s an imposing way to enter a city, even today the columns and archways are impressive. From there you enter what would have been a teeming city, with a population of around 20,000 at it’s height before the invading Persian armies and a large earthquake in the 9th century started the decline of the city. The remains of several important buildings, including a nymphaeum and several small temples, and a large hippodrome and theatre lie just beyond the gate. As you wander up the road, you come to an oval and quite beautiful forum, which amongst other things marked the centre of trade for Jerash. The streets are paved with the original stones, and you can still see the ruts made by chariots, a remarkable and touching historical detail. Chariot races are still put on in the hippodrome as a modern day tourist attraction, but apart from a few horses tethered around the entrance we saw nothing of this – perhaps we were out of season. We took the opportunity to climb to the top of the temple of Artemis, from where we got an amazing view of modern day Jerash, a city which has grown rapidly in recent years. Unfortunately we did not get time to look around it, as our driver was booked to take us back later that afternoon. There were some spectacular views on the way back to Amman, we asked our driver to stop so that we could take photos of the landscape, gorgeous hills gently undulating to the meandering river – Jordan is a beautiful country.
We ate that night at an intriguing Chinese restaurant that we could see from our hotel room window. We were the only diners, guessing that Chinese food isn’t that popular for an Iftar meal. Still it was tasty enough. I find that Chinese food varies incredibly from country to country, and I have to say I liked the Middle Eastern take on it much more than the
Dead Sea, Jordan
British. Our handsome driver was booked again for the next day to take us to the Dead Sea for the day. Again, this is an hour or so’s drive from Amman. Enormous luxury hotels are dotted around the Dead Sea coast, all promising spa treatments and access to the salty water, but we eschewed these and instead went to the public beach, where for much less money you can find changing facilities, a café and shop, pools, nice shady areas, and have access to a long stretch of sandy beach. It is (obviously) very popular though, so I’d advise getting there as early as you can if you want a sunbed, particularly one in the shade. We were both keen to get in the sea and find out what it was like to float unaided in the saltiest sea on the planet. The Dead Sea is also the lowest point on earth, and one of the hottest places I’ve ever been. When the driver parked up, he laughed and pointed at the temperature gauge on the car: 45 degrees C. That’s hot! And it would only get hotter as the day went on. We could see the hills of Israel on the other side of the sea, within swimming distance: an intriguing thought. The sea itself is calm, with a layer of sharp, pointy salt deposits around the edge, which means you have to tread carefully as you ease your way in. It is definitely designed for the lazy, as everything you’ve heard is true – no swimming required to keep yourself afloat. The oddest thing is trying to turn over from your front to your back, this is a lot more difficult than in a normal sea, quite a disorientating experience. The other strange thing is bathing in a sea with absolutely NO life in it. Not even a patch of weeds can survive the high concentrations of sodium chloride, no watching out for sea creatures or cutting your foot on a shell or getting seaweed in your hair… For a small fee though, you can cover yourself in Dead Sea mud (supposed to be great for the skin), let it dry in the sun and then wash it off in the salt. I had a go (Sarah sensibly stuck to swimming and reading on the beach) but got too overexcited and washed it off too soon.
We had a look around the shop and bought some creams for our friend, who has psoriasis. Dead Sea minerals are supposed to be excellent for skin problems. We had a drink in the café, but neither of us fancied eating there. It was a buffet and we weren’t sure how long the food had been out. Soon we were happily ensconced back in the car, admiring our driver’s eyelashes, and being taken back to our hotel in Amman, salty but relaxed. We decided to eat that night at the Blue Fig Café, a Lonely Planet recommendation. They weren’t wrong, the Café was absolutely wonderful, offering a superb four course Iftar meal. The wonderfully relaxed atmosphere there is to be savoured, the locals sit around drinking tea, smoking water pipes and playing cards and backgammon, chatting loudly. The décor is all Arabic cushions, lanterns and colourful throws. A brilliant evening to bring our time in Amman to a close. Next day was an early start, as we headed off to Petra.
Blue Fig Cafe, Amman
Istanbul (September 2009 and May 2011)
Posted: 06/09/2011 Filed under: Turkey | Tags: Istanbul, Travel, Turkey Leave a comment
The Blue Mosque
Before I get properly started on this blog post, I need to first explain that it may be biased. The reason? I LOVE Istanbul. It has overtaken Venice as my favourite city. I was trying to analyse just why this is in the car this morning. It’s certainly overcrowded and full of tourists (incidentally, I’ve never understood why travellers complain about tourists all the time. Erm, just what do you think you are? There’s no difference to the people that live there whether you’re being all worthy and interailing round the Middle East or dashing in for an hour from a cruise ship, you’re still a tourist. Anyway I digress!). It’s certainly not a cheap place to go these days either. But there is something absolutely magical about it. I first went there in September 2009 for a long weekend with a male friend of mine, and then went back in May 2011 with a female friend (the gender difference will be important later, so it’s not unnecessary detail – honestly!). The second time I spent 4 nights there and used it as a launch pad to explore the rest of the western Turkish coast, travelling down to Antalya and flying back from there. Returning to Istanbul felt like coming home – thinking about it, I rarely visit the same place twice but I think I could go back there again and again and not get bored of it. Bearing in mind also that apart from brief interludes across the bridge, I’ve only really ever explored the Sultanahemet area. There’s still so much of Istanbul I haven’t seen yet.
The second time we arrived late at night, a transfer shared with an elderly British Asian lady from Bolton, and her lively,
Inside the Blue Mosque
talkative daughter who had brought her to Istanbul for a long weekend as a treat. Once again I was struck by how much older people travel these days – my own parents have never been travellers and don’t often leave the house since my dad hit the over 75 age bracket. This lady was obviously a bit unsteady on her legs, but was looking forward to her trip, and full of praise for her children. Part of me felt that it was a shame to arrive in the city in the dark. The last time I was here, my friend had made a big point of showing me the city walls (he used to be an archaeologist), and pointing out how remarkably they look like the city walls in Caernarvon. He was right actually – they do! I wanted to do the same for the friend I was with this time, who had never been before, but none of this was visible. The other thing I remember I about my arrival on the previous visit was my first view of the Blue Mosque, which suddenly appeared on my left, and when I looked to the right, there was the Hagia Sofia. Two of the most incredible buildings I have ever, ever seen in spitting distance of each other. I didn’t know where to look first! But on this visit, we saw nothing of the Blue Mosque as we approached the city, apart from an illuminated minaret or two, just visible above street level.
Things went awry when we arrived at the hotel. They only had a double room available, and when we tried to explain that it was fine, we were good friends and could put up with sharing a bed for one night, the night manager wouldn’t hear of it. He arranged for us to spend the night at their sister hotel, a couple of yards up the hill, so back we trundled with our bags. A lot of faffing ensued, until we finally got into our room at half past midnight. Only to find it was a double with a tiny bed… Hmmm, not sure what the point of that little exercise was then! The room was on the ground floor, and we were woken at stupid o’clock by the cleaners, who seemed to love banging things. Then people getting the breakfast ready, again, the joy of banging. Not the best way to spend your first night in Istanbul. That morning though we were moved back to our original hotel, in a very pleasant twin room, the only drawback being the proximity of the railway track and the noise from the trains in the morning.
Hagia Sofia
Feeling a little sleep deprived, we headed out to explore. My friend was keen to have a look at the Blue Mosque, and I can understand why. The building dominates the skyline, and it is a beautiful structure, a Mosque of Mosques. We joined a massive queue to go inside, both incensed by the number of non-Islamic women who seemed to think it was fine to not cover their hair and were making a massive fuss about removing shoes. We had both packed pashminas to wear over our heads, when in Istanbul… The interior of the Mosque is simple but beautiful, the inside of the domes are tiled in blue and white, and the windows are stained glass. Despite all the people inside, there was an incredible feeling of peace. People were praying as we looked on from the sidelines. We spend a long time just standing there, soaking up the atmosphere. Strangely I noticed a grandfather clock in one corner, I still haven’t got to the bottom of what that was for! After leaving the Mosque we emerged into the Hippodrome, which resembled a building site. It was teeming with people, and clearly they were doing some kind of archaeological dig there – parts of the pathways and gardens were roped off, and huge industrial diggers were very much in evidence (no one seemed to be actually doing anything with them though). Even without the diggers, the Hippodrome resembles a mad archaeologists’s dumping ground. At one end there is an Egyptian obelisk, you can also see part of the Serpentine’s Column from the Temple of Delphi in Greece, and Constantine’s Column, which was allegedly looted by the Crusaders. Further along, there is a very ornate early 20th century fountain, built to commemorate the visit of Kaiser Wilhelm (yes, THAT Kaiser Wilhelm) to Istanbul in 1909.
But the real attraction for me is the building opposite – the Hagia Sofia. The site was first dedicated in 360 AD, the building that is there now is the third incarnation, the first two having been destroyed by fire. It was built on the order of the Byzantine Emperor Justinian I, and completed in 537 AD. It became the Greek patriarchal cathedral of Constantinople, until 1453, when it was converted into a mosque by the invading Ottomans. In the 1930s, it was secularized and today is a museum. The mosaics around the entrance are astounding, and reminded me a little of the mosaics at St Mark’s Basilica in Venice, with the ornate gold backgrounds and simple foregrounds. Inside, there is one huge dome, which to the naked eye looks unsupported and seems to float over the building: the columns are cleverly concealed in the walls. Not only can you walk into the building itself, you are also able to climb to the balconies above the main body of the church (mosque? I don’t know!) to get a closer look at the dome and mosaics and also look down upon the tourist hoards below.
Which brings me to another point – which is a little off topic – the men! Going with a man on my first visit, I was left in relative peace. Going with another woman was a whole different story! It seemed to be open season, even in the Hagia Sofia. As we walked around a corner, we accidentally ended up in the background to a photograph being taken by two Algerian students. They then insisted on taking our photograph also, then we had to pose with each of them, which led to not so subtle attempts to pick us both up. Even though neither of us could speak much French or any Arabic, and they could not speak English. We politely declined their offer of a drink, but this was a scenario we experienced a lot in Turkey. English women all seem to have the word “easy” tattooed on their foreheads, so beware if you’re either travelling alone or with another woman and don’t want attention. Polite and firm normally wins the day in the end.
We left the Hagia Sofia and headed for lunch at a restaurant I remembered well from my previous visit. It’s called the Seven Hills, and it’s a hotel with an amazing rooftop terrace restaurant. What is remarkable is not the food (we had very
Turkish Delight
limited choice as vegetarians and ended up both having a simple salad) but the view. The terrace has the Blue Mosque on one side, the Hagia Sofia on the other, and an amazing view out to the Bosphorus, where you can see the ships in the distance coming in and out of one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world. Just below and beyond you can see the remains of Roman Constantinople, and an archaeological dig going on around the back. We stayed here for a few beers, then headed over to my favourite pub – the North Shield. I discovered this place last time I was in the city, and if you like football and beer it is a must (and is handily quartered halfway between Topkapi Palace and the Blue Mosque, so on the tourist trail). On the way we stopped off at a fantastic confectioners and bought some Turkish Delight. The sweet powdery stuff you get in England does not compare with the fare you get in Turkey. Huge slabs of fruit or chocolate or rose flavoured jelly packed with nuts and covered in coconut. The shop gave us samples to taste, and then made up a box of our favourites. It wasn’t cheap, but it was delicious and a great accompaniment to the beers and football! The North Shield has at least 5 big screens, and each shows a different match. As a Bolton Wanderers fan I was delighted to see the Bolton-Blackburn match was featured and settled down to watch. We only meant to stay for the one match, but ended up in there for the later kick off too, nibbling the free bar snacks and drinking too much beer. We went to have a look at the Blue Mosque at night, all lit up and looking stunning, before having a late dinner at an almost deserted restaurant on the way back to the hotel. The waiters were busy preparing for an event the next day, and shared lots of jokes with us as they busily whirled around the room, sorting out table cloths and cutlery.
Topkapi Palace
Our second day in Istanbul was mainly spent at the Topkapi Palace. Topkapi is where the Ottoman sultans made their home, and is the main destination for the cruise ship parties after they have finished looking around the Blue Mosque. It is busy, and difficult to look around in comfort if you go in high season. The buildings themselves are gorgeous, especially inside where they are tiled and gilded, but the Palace is also home to a museum with lots of treasures from the era when the sultans ruled the day. The museum itself is housed in various of the old buildings, and is quite strange. The artefacts on display include the staff of Moses and the sword of Joseph (I kid you not!). Not satisfied with merely having a sword that dates back to Biblical times, the curators have decided to actually attribute it to Joseph… Most of the signage in here should be taken with a large pinch of salt… The treasures are actually beautifully displayed and interesting, but you are subject to a great deal of jostling and pushing as you try to look around. My favourite part of the Topkapi experience was the Harem. You have to pay extra to gain access, but it is well worth the trouble. This gives you more of an idea of the domestic life of the sultans and their family, some of the rooms are beautiful. One of the sultans had 300 concubines living here – busy man!
After Topkapi we headed out to a street we’d stumbled across the night before, which turned out to be more familiar to me in the daylight – Akbıyık Street. This is a street full of bars and restaurants, and I vaguely remembered coming to the New Backpackers Bar for beers and a water pipe last time I was in Istanbul. The area out front is endlessly fascinating, a hive of activity. This is the area where all the budget hotels are, so you get an interesting clientele of backpackers and budget holidaymakers. The New Backpackers does a mean cocktail, and you can sit on the comfy cushions outside and watch the world go by. This was fine until it started to rain, and we beat a hasty retreat to a restaurant across the road. Again, we got much attention from the waiters, one of whom asked us to an after closing time party… We politely declined as we weren’t sure where the party was and didn’t fancy going off in a car with a bunch of strange men. But again, an example of the very intense attention you get in Turkey if you are female…
Boat trip (first visit)
One of the things I remembered loving on my last visit was a boat cruise on the Bosphorus. These leave in large pleasure cruisers from the waterfront every hour or so, and last for a couple of hours taking you up the river and back. It was well worth doing and I got to see some fantastic views of the as yet unexplored Asian side of the river. I had recommended the experience to my friend, so on our third and final day in Istanbul we headed down to the river to see what was available. My friend was completely put off by the intensive selling techniques, loud music and men shouting through loudspeakers. The people selling these kind of trips have clearly learned their techniques from the package holiday destinations in the south, where louder appears to be better. It works less well with the tourists in the city, and I didn’t see many takers for the cruise boats. Instead we had a meander across the river by bridge where we found ourselves in a very smelly fish market, and then decided to have a look around the bazaars. The Grand Bazaar is a huge indoor market, which mainly seems to sell tourist tat these days, and is a little disappointing. The Spice Bazaar is much better, a real quaint old feel to the building helps, and the stalls with piles of saffron, turmeric and dried coriander look and smell incredible.
We finished our last afternoon by going to the bar at the Best Western, not too far from the Basilica Cistern for a few beers, finishing off at the North Shield and making use of their free wifi. Just sitting and watching the world go by in Istanbul is interesting enough to while away the time. We finished off our stay in this wonderful city with a meal at the rooftop terrace restaurant at the Armada Hotel. This is a beautiful restaurant, with wonderful service and a stunning view over the water. We had a gorgeous meze, and some Turkish wine. We went back to the hotel tired but happy. Istanbul you are a friendly, interesting, amazing city. I’ll be back, there’s still so much I want to do…
The West Highland Way, Scotland
Posted: 24/08/2011 Filed under: Scotland | Tags: Bridge of Orchy, Glencoe, Kingshouse, Scotland, Travel, West Highland Way Leave a commentThe West Highland Way stretches from Glasgow to Fort William, and is 96 miles long in total. It claims to be Britain’s most popular long-distance path. In March 2008, a posse of us set off to walk part of the way for a friend’s birthday. We drove up on a Thursday morning from Manchester, and stopped on the way at the best motorway services in Britain (Tebay) for a cup of tea and to admire the views of rolling hillsides and blue skies. This sense of wellbeing crashed to the ground as we hit Glasgow, the motorway junction we needed was closed and we ended up in the city centre, trying to navigate a one-way system (I should point out at this juncture that I am useless with maps and that my friend was driving) and getting slightly panicky. We (eventually) found the right road after an hour’s detour, and decided to stop off at the Glengoyne distillery. I had foolishly offered to take over the driving from this point onwards, so didn’t get to taste any of the 16 year old cask strength whiskey, nor yet the delicious sounding 20 year old, but my friend had several samples and climbed back into the car very happy. And we were both several pounds poorer having been unable to resist the lure of a good malt. Even if it was almost £40 for the cheapest bottle…
Bridge of Orchy Hotel and Bunkhouse
We arrived at Bridge of Orchy as the sun was coming down. We had booked into the bunk house behind the hotel for 3 nights. I had not been informed at any point that there was a hotel, and I know which I would have rather stayed in. However, the bunk house was cheap and clean, even if it did make me feel a little like a 5 year old, clambering up the ladder onto the top bunk. My friend had refused to sleep in the top bunk in case he fell out of it during the night, but didn’t seem to have any qualms at all about me doing the same – so chivalrous! Bridge of Orchy itself is a beautiful spot, nestled in the Highlands with a fast running river. The surrounding mountains were still snow-capped and the snow-line was clearly visible.
Friends were arriving later the next day to kick off the birthday celebrations, so we ate in the hotel and spent the evening sampling more malt whiskey, which may account for the fact that my memory of the rest of the evening is somewhat blurry! (lots happened that night but I’ll spare your blushes and not go into detail). We awoke to chilly weather and rain and headed off to the hotel for a Scottish veggie breakfast. Eggs, beans, potato cake, veggie haggis, and a gallon of tea later, we were just about ready to catch the bus to Tindrum. Our idea was to go back on ourselves and then walk back towards Bridge of Orchy along the river, and then await the arrival of the rest of the party. The bus journey back towards Tindrum was spectacular, a single road through a deep valley, with mountain views on either side. We went shopping in Tindrum, which is more like a small town than the village of Bridge of Orchy. We were looking for gaiters, but couldn’t find any cheap enough – this part of Scotland is definitely tourist prices. We chose the more inviting looking of two pubs for lunch, but gave up when it took forever to get served, even though they were not that busy (incidently, why do table service for drinks in a pub? It’s just not British. We may have been appeased slightly if we’d been able to get a beer and then had a long wait for the food, but to sit somewhere for 20 minutes and not
River Walk - Tindrum to Bridge of Orchy
be offered even a drink is not good!). So we headed next door for veggie burger and chips, with a pint of IPA, which set us up nicely to walk the 7 miles back to Bridge of Orchy. The way took us along the river, a pretty pathway and fairly easy, flat walk. The weather was not kind to us though, as the rain turned into a full blown blizzard. As my friend pointed out though, snow is easier to walk in than rain as it mostly just drops off rather than soaking you through. All fine until you get caught short and have to attempt to urinate behind a hawthorn bush while getting battered by snowflakes… Still, it was invigorating (the walk, not the toilet break) and you certainly are walking through some of the most stunning scenery in the UK. We arrived back at the Bridge of Orchy hotel late in the afternoon, and decided we needed coffee to warm us up. The bar man (an excellent salesman if ever I saw one) asked us if we wanted Drambruie in it, and of course we did. The fire was lit, and we dried off and relaxed. The rest of the party arrived in dribs and drabs that afternoon, and we had another nice dinner at the Bridge of Orchy Hotel , who found us a table for 12.
The next day was an early start, as we tackled the more challenging walk of Bridge of Orchy to Kingshouse. After another huge Scottish breakfast we gathered in the hotel lobby and set off on the 12 mile walk, which has a lot of up hill. My friend unfortunately only made it to the first rest stop and then had to go back as he was floored by some kind of stomach bug. However, the rest of us soldiered on without him. The walk takes you across Rannoch Moor, an incredibly beautiful stretch of bleak terrain, with mountains beyond. As you walk by the Loch, you can’t help but feel how quintessentially Scottish this whole landscape is – it could have been lifted from the lid of a tartan biscuit tin in a service station gift shop. But it isn’t until you actually see it for yourself that you can begin to appreciate just how beautiful it is, especially at this time of year (March) when the snow is still visible. The weather was kinder on this day than the previous day, with bright blue skies and frosty air, perfect conditions for walking. As you approach Kingshouse, you can see the ski lifts of the resorts around – not doing a great deal of business as the season was just about over. The valley drops away and the hotel comes into view. Kinghouse is little more than a hamlet, a small collection of buildings with the Pap of Glencoe standing tall in the background. There are many deer around and they are so tame that they come into the car park to be fed by hand. The hotel there is old fashioned and quaint, with log fires and simple décor. I wasn’t lucky enough to be staying there – back to the bunkhouse for me. After a couple of drinks I said my goodbyes and got a lift with some friends back to Bridge of Orchy. On the way, we were rewarded by an incredible sight, a statuesque stag, just standing by the side of the road in front of a backdrop of moors and mountains. What a photo opportunity! The stags should not be approached (especially in mating season) as they can do serious damage with their antlers. But it showed no sign of attacking us, just stood patiently while we took photos.
Walk from Bridge of Orchy to Kingshouse - Rannoch Moor
Deer at Kingshouse
Back at the bunkhouse my friend had been ill more or less all day, so we had a quiet night sat in the hotel bar, whilst he nursed a ginger beer. Next morning he felt better, but was still not up for walking from Kingshouse to Glencoe so we drove up to Kingshouse, met up with the rest of the party and made our way to Glencoe by car. On the way we had a brief stop to have a snowball fight and admire the Meeting of the Three Waters, a fountain of three different streams, gushing from the rocks into the river below. We arrived at the hotel in Glencoe and had lunch in the backpackers bar, then decided to do a shorter walk in the area around Glencoe village. A few more drinks in the evening, then next morning we said our goodbyes to friends who were all going their separate ways. Some were off home, some to a cottage they had rented on the Isle of Skye. For us, we decided to have another night in Glencoe, and my friend worked out a circuit for driving which would take in several Scottish castles and the town of Oban. We headed out first to Stalker Castle, famous for being in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. This castle is on an island in the middle of a Loch so we didn’t get a close up view, but admired it from afar as we had a coffee in a lovely café opposite. Refreshed, we headed to Dunstaffnage, a quiet town with a gorgeous marina and a 13th century castle, once home to the MacDougall clan. The views over the water with the boats and yachts are stunning. We spent some time looking around the castle, then headed to Oban for lunch. Oban was a bit of a surprise for me: it reminded me of one of the smaller English seaside towns. It has a pier and a very English feel about it. Fishing is the big business around here and there were lots of fishermen even in March using the pier to catch their prey. We had lunch at an Italian restaurant and then I spotted a small deli on the sea front. This was a cheese lover’s paradise. I bought some brie and strong mature cheddar from the nearby Isle of Mull, and some smoked Shetland Island cheese. Isle of Mull cheddar is something of a legend in my family, I first came across it on a family holiday to Dumfries and Galloway, and haven’t found a mature cheddar that I’ve liked as much since. There was much rejoicing one year when my uncle spotted some in a Manchester supermarket and made a special trip up to our house to deliver some. It has an almost gritty texture, and a sharp, strong flavour. Delicious with an oatcake and some single malt.
After Oban we headed to our final castle of the day, Kilchurn Castle. This is a wreck of a castle, a shell of its former glory. It sits by a loch, and looks somehow mournful. The weather had turned since we had left Dunstaffnage, and an aura of misty rain surrounded the crumbling walls and ruined turrets. We stayed just long enough to take some photographs and drink in the air of Scotch melancholy, before heading back for our last night in Glencoe. I decided to try some of the malts on offer in the backpacker bar, as they claimed to have over 100. I asked the barman which was his favourite and received the disappointing answer “Famous Grouse”. Really?!! Not a whisky fan then, a bit of drawback working in a bar with so many delights on offer. I found three that I’d never tried before though, and one that my friend had never had before either (which was a surprise as he seems to have tried every whisky in Scotland!). We reluctantly said goodbye to Glencoe the next day, and headed homewards. The drive down from Glencoe to Glasgow is wonderful, one road for most of the way, with simply spectacular views of the West Highlands in all their snow capped glory. The way home was different to the journey up, with no detours to the distillery. We found ourselves driving down the shore of Loch Lomand, where we stopped for a cup of tea and to admire the view. One place I wished we’d been able to stop for a while was The Drovers, a pub on the shoreline. This is an interesting little place, with claims to be the oldest pub in the UK. The building is certainly very old and well worth a visit, although it was shut when we went past. And so home we went, with a sigh, after a very pleasant 5 night stay. Next time I’ve promised to do the whole walk. All 96 miles. With maybe a few stops for a single malt and some Isle of Mull cheddar…
Stalker Castle
Kilchurn Castle
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