LONDON, THE GROSVENOR HOTEL, AND A SERIAL KILLER
Well once again I have some time to kill in an airport departure lounge, so I thought I would catch you up. In fact this morning I have more time than expected as our WestJet flight from Gatwick to Calgary is delayed for at least an hour and a half (or so we hope). I suppose I shouldn’t complain as it takes as long as it takes to keep these old WestJet planes in a condition that will hopefully keep us in the air longer than the Wright Brothers and home safer than Amelia Earhart.I have been told that there are new WestJet planes on the way in the new year so for those with plans to travel abroad in the future you may be in for a treat. For now we are stacked up like cordwood in the North Terminal adjacent to WHSmith bookstore trying not to be overcome by the stale cigarette stench on the folks sporting the fake tans and bedazzled track suits sitting all about us. And then as if all our prayers were answered the flight for Majorca was called and they all got to their good “foot” & gangster limped away to a gate with the promise of Thomas Cook Holidays in the Spanish Sun (ATOL Protected).
Then it was our turn. Our gate was called and we made our way to 571. Upon arrival at the gate we were lucky enough to witness a WestJet employee domestic dispute as the plane had apparently been ready for some time but there had been no ground staff to board the passengers. So while a grumpy bald WestJetter berated the first young lady in uniform to appear, she returned volley to who I would guess was her supervisor with a “who do you think you are”. That continued downward until cooler heads prevailed and another young lady arrived from her tea break to further assist. So now we endure the apologies on behalf of WestJet for the delays and their efforts to now board the passengers ASAP and in sequence.
This is where it got entertaining as this was actually my first time witnessing six British Adult benefit cheats (Social Assistance Scammers in Canadian) and the child they had clearly borrowed from the local gypsies to make their way to the front of the line when the call went out for travellers with small children. Nan as she was referred to by the middle female teenage cheat appeared to be in her early thirties and must have spawned young Vicki Pollard early in her “formative years”. The four accompanying completely tattooed adult males (at the expense of the British tax payer) followed in behind like lambs to the slaughter or benefit cheats to the kabab shop, take your pick.
Then it was time for a litany of regular guests of Disney’s theme parks who were obvious students of the how to get to the front of the line game. All of whom were clearly willing to try feigning all manner of injuries and every other trick in the book to go next.Now it’s our turn to take our seats in WestJet Plus. We are in the 2nd row and I have the pleasure of sitting within earshot of a woman who requires a lot of help from the flight attendant to fully understand what Prosecco is. When the penny dropped another 30 seconds of thought was required to answer yes please or no thank you. Aaron our flight attendant is a huge man with Michael Jackson’s voice & very small hands. Aaron’s hands look strong enough to choke the next neck of the next passenger with the next stupid question. Aaron looks displeased. I understand that look. It gives me a warm feeling to know that someone may dislike people more than I do.
One of my old buddies says without hesitation that there are 6 Billion people on this planet and he likes 3 of them. I’ll stretch to 20 (but that’s it and you know who you are). We are now up in the air and about 8 and a half hours from Calgary with fingers crossed. Now it’s time to go over the last couple of days in London. We arrived nearly three days ago from Barcelona and I must admit we were shocked to be greeted with the hot and humid 29 degree sunshiny weather. It was a British bank holiday on Monday so everyone was out and about in the royal parks enjoying a wonderful family day or just relaxing with friends.
I hope you are inspired to visit some of the places I have written about over the past few years. And if you have been one of the 18 thousand (Wordpress stats) or so readers that have stopped by since I started, thank you! As the lovely African lady working as a cleaner on our Gatwick Express train said to me a couple of days ago, “life is too short. Go places and do things”. She spent some time at our table telling us how excited she was for her next journey. If my memory serves, she is probably now on her way to Mauritius, a place she has never been before. Safe travels my new friend! Memories made are more important than stuff.
Cheers!
Mark
VIVA ESPAÑA
Barcelona has left an unbelievably positive impression on us both. It felt like it could easily be home with a huge mix of many ingredients. A big city without the feeling of congestion or pressure. It’s hard to encapsulate so many sights, sounds, and smells in a short story and I am not about to do it justice.Landing here on Saturday afternoon we jumped in a cab (they hate Uber) and made our way into the city in around 20 minutes or so.
Our driver told us he was the son of a Spanish father and a Dominican mom. He was born in the Dominican Republic but had shared his 50 or so years on this planet between both. This guy was a super happy soul and a very proud citizen of Barcelona.
I could not have had a better view. A 2-1 Barca lead was levelled by Real Madrid center forward and Welshman Gareth Bale in the second half that saw out 90 minutes and 10 minutes of injury time. Every one of those minutes were filled with the voices of Barca fans with their songs and cheers. At the final whistle I wandered slowly from the stands and met up with Dale in the agreed location. We revelled in the experience and then made our way home. So late to bed and early to rise. Our plane left Barcelona this morning for London at 7:10. It was a great flight on EasyJet once again with speedy boarding.
So here we are back in old blighty. The sun is out big time and we are gonna head for the train into town, the Grosvenor Hotel is our digs for the next couple of days.
Live Well!
SICILY GOES GREEK.
I am currently gazing 200 meters to the south from my table at the Hotel Del Athena. This remarkable terrace sits in the shadow of the worlds best kept Greek Temples. Being in Agrigentro is just a bit more than surreal. For a mere mortal to get so close to such ancient and awesome architecture built solely for the gods to enjoy is quite an experience. Most of us would tend to think that if you want to visit stunning Greek temples you should probably get yourself to Greece.This place is incredible and should not be missed if visiting Sicily or anywhere near for that matter. Of course, with every description of ancient ruins should come a short history lesson laying out the important facts and figures. I will spare you that but encourage you to spend a minute or two searching Wikipedia for the significant details.
As you can imagine a seat at a five star hotel surrounded by greatness is a recipe for spending euros, and in fact you would be right. Two double Bombay (Mumbai) gin and Schweppes tonic accompanied by olives & almonds and the bill came to 56 big ones. Oh well, the waiters were dressed in white tuxedo jackets and the manager moved about like a cat with an eagle eye for anything that could constitute less than impeccable service.Dale mentioned that during a short period when he stepped away from our table he overheard several American sixty something tourists lambasting their poor tour guide. The tour company was apparently significantly lacking for booking a hotel that has guest room televisions that are not even as big as the ones in their kitchens back home.I personally can’t think why you would give a shit when you are paying mega bucks for a five star hotel next to several unspoilt Greek Temples, but each to his own and praise be to Jeebus that I don’t one day become one of those old pricks.
How we got to the Valley of the Temple of the Gods is in someways just as interesting. Yesterday we arrived in Sicily via Venice and Volotea Airlines. We landed on the east coast in the city of Catania. We wisked our way through the airport to Budget Rentals and soon after were motoring through the hills to the south of the city near Mt. Etna. The destination was our Airbnb in Ragusa Ibla owned and operated by Gianni and his daughter Chiara. As the photographs attached will indicate Chiara’s home is perched on the side of a mountain overlooking the rest of the hilltown to the south.
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The home is a modern, recently renovated cliffside beauty that is absolutely gorgeous. It is clean both in condition and interior design and the balcony is unlike any other I have stood on before. This town is used regularly as a set for an Italian crime drama that is subtitled in many languages and aired all around the world. For those interested, the program is Inspector Montalbano and I recommend a watch.
Upon arrival yesterday we were met by Gianni and checked in with speed and accuracy. It’s not often that you are met at the door with an assortment of delicate Sicilian baked goods.
It was nice to meet Gianni and he was quick to give us the local 411 that could help us enjoy our next 48 hours here. Soon after we jumped in the car and headed down the hill into the bustling village. The churches are magnificent and the accompanying businesses and homes fell suit. We wandered for quite some time only to stop for a pew at a local church and an espresso at the appropriate time to recharge the batteries.
Later we headed into Ragusa proper for a SPAR grocery store to shop for some fresh pasta for dinner. Both Pomodoro and Pesto on tonight’s menu. The plate would not be complete without sun-dried tomatoes and anchovies to accompany the local pane’. Given we are in the slow food capital of the world we took advantage and spent a couple hours enjoying our meal. The very cheap yet delicious tetra pack table wine that costs less than 2 dollars Canadian a litre is so good. Dishes washed and a little TV capped off the night as well as could be expected. Let me tell you now, by no fault of our own our expectations are now quite high.
Lastly but not least we stopped in Punta Secca on the Sicilian coast this morning. It is a beautiful seaside town that has a wonderful beach and wonderful coffee. We stayed for a while and enjoyed all its graces. Go there, do that, don’t be a Goomba!Tomorrow we leave from Catania bound for Barcelona and two days of sights, sounds, smells, tapas and wine. Perhaps after a stroll on Las Ramblas we can slump into a Paella induced coma. Until Tomorrow!Mark
WE HAD TIRAMISU AND THEN WE HAD ANOTHER TIRAMISU.
It feels like we just arrived in Murano a few minutes ago and now we are set to leave the lagoon with seriously heavy hearts. I join you from seat 15F on Volotea flight # 1260. The journey that lead us to our spacious and comfortable seats on this somewhat antique Boing 717 (never heard of them) was almost stress free considering that our day began at 04:50. I will get back to that near the conclusion of today’s blog but for now I will recap our last 48 hrs in Venice and Murano.Upon arrival at Santa Lucia railway station we left our train on platform 3 and made our way to the exit. That exit immediately draws your attention to the Grand Canal and that all important first impression for a visitor to Venice. Given our evening arrival time the station was busy and full of life. If you believe what you read on numerous travel websites, one is supposed to closely guard ones personal items from the foreign gentlemen who are notorious for sticky fingers and general thievery. As those of you who know me and my travel companion, I think you will agree that we are not afraid to scream obscenities with tyrannical facial expressions at anyone who gets inside our hula hoop (so to speak).
So without incident of theft we stood and took in the sites,sounds and smells for several minutes before committing to the water bus ticket office and the purchase of our transport to Murano. Just mere seconds before we stepped forward to pay a very kind Roman lady tapped Dale on the shoulder and gave us her unused tickets that were good until 22:00. She explained she was just about to board her train for home and wished to pass them on.With that good fortune and a 14 euro savings we began our voyage to Murano Colonno with even wider smiles. The journey was fabulous as always and the warm humid air took me right back to past visits. Some time for a few photos along the way and in no time really we were jumping off at Colonno station and making our way to meet Flavia at her Airbnb.
We arrived at #51 on Murano’s main canal amongst a hubbub of activity that I for one was not expecting. There is a bridge that crosses the canal adjacent to Flavia’s place that was being used as a set for what was in actual fact a full on Bollywood film production. The eponymous hero and his beautiful love interest were walking gracefully towards each other from either side of the bridge with that loving gaze that only Bollywood can do. We watched and watched as one does when they come upon a Bollywood movie set. I later texted a friend at home that encouraged me to somehow find my way into the cast as a back up dancer. I am well known for doing a graceful screwing in of the lightbulb (no offence intended to my Indian friends but I am vacant to that particular dance’s real name).
Flavia was a lovely lady and quick to welcome us to her very modern and recently renovated apartment one floor above the canal. She showed us around and intimated that she could make up the second bed if we would like. I don’t think her gaydar was functioning properly as I’m usually not mistaken for being in a same sex relationship. Dale quickly explained that we would require both beds and soon after the penny dropped and Flavia was picking up what we were putting down.We stowed our gear and made our way down the canal for dinner at a local pizzeria. I had the Siciliano and Dale the prosciutto. A couple of Moretti’s and the evening was well on its way. The pizza was excellent and the service was very good. Surprisingly we opted for no Dolce after dinner but there was room for another Moretti.Once we pushed back from the table, we paid, said our goodbyes and walked off to explore the neighbourhood at night. As in my past experiences here you could have heard a pin drop as we wandered and wandered through a serpentine maze of paths along the water.
Probably just enough exercise to ward off the pizza night terrors and there we were back at Flavia’s. Asleep in seconds and early to rise as there is no time like 06:00 to head back to Venice to visit all the biggies before the cruise ships disembark and the bus tours arrive. Believe it or not after 20 minutes of wandering the Jewish Ghetto we arrived at St. Mark’s Square just in time to share it with four or five other people. As you know it is a huge place and if you arrive anytime after 10:00 you will be surrounded by literally tens of thousands of witless drones following their disenchanted flag waving guides who appear to be giving off that please shoot me now vibe. Well thankfully we can report no such encounters as we beat the rush. From the piazza we took in the bridge of sighs and the Realto before disappearing back into the neighbourhoods for a couple more cappuccinos and pane’ chocolato.Upon inhaling those it was time to fulfill a dream of Dale’s to try the Culatello ham from a local butcher who seemed pleased to chat. I suppose you have to pay lip service to a customer who is willing to pay 12 euros for 50 grams of what turned out to be a perfectly cured ham that tasted like an angel peeing on your tongue. By 12:00 we were back aboard the ferry to Murano and wandering the glass factories that it is known for. No it’s not where Nissan makes useless SUV’S. Dale had a quick haggle as he is used to do and moments later he was in possession of a gift. I on the other hand don’t have that entrepreneurial spirit and choose poorly to pay full price.
Back to Flavia’s and an afternoon siesta to ward off the effects of several hours on the hoof as they say. I was woken by the sound of my FaceTime alert and answered a call from my eldest son who was just back from driving his olive drab G-Wagon through the flood waters of Fredericton New Brunswick. He described the horrible damage to the local homes and the work that his comrades with the combat engineers were doing to stem the tides. It was really nice to chat to Mackenzie and after half an hour we parted company and Dale and I packed our bags for the last ferry to Marco Polo airport and our stay at the nearby Best Western Titian.We grabbed a cab from the airport and were checking in 5 minutes later. Our new friend Stefanie at the desk was very helpful and checked us in very quickly. Our first room was somewhat small and some may say set up for a couple. To say it was a little tight may have been an understatement so we returned to visit Stefanie with a request to move to a more appropriate space. Stefanie was there to help and next thing we knew we were moving to room 237 which turned out to be a three bedroom apartment with room to spare. Stefanie also suggested we visit a local restaurant for locals around 300 hundred metres away. Well that couldn’t have gone much better. Mussels in a white wine broth and Venetian Shrimp on small beds of polenta for the first course. That was followed by the local sea bream and a mixed grill of beef, lamb and pork. Both were accompanied by mixed grilled seasonal veggies. After a leisurely meal we were asked if we would like some Dolce? Of course we would and to be sure when in the Veneto one must have the tiramisu. Now I’m not sure what heavenly ingredients they used in their local preparation of this inexplicably good potion but suffice to say it had the capability of turning us both into tiramisu junkies immediately.
So much so that after we licked the generous serving glasses clean we experienced that undeniable craving that you get when you need another hit. So there we are almost mainlining tiramisu in front of the clearly horrified staff. In fact, if I hadn’t come clean to the waiter when we paid he would have struck the second two from the bill as no one in their right mind has two. A short walk back to the Titian and I was able to catch the last ten minutes of the Liverpool vs Roma game. Roma slam two in the back of the net to break the tie and win 4-2.So there, we are now flying 37000 feet above Naples and 45 minutes from Catania. From what we read a rainy Sicily awaits our arrival. Perhaps the convertible Fiat Spider won’t get that chance to loose it’s hat but if our luck continues, perhaps the clouds will part and we can happily motor through the hill towns with an accompaniment of the three tenors singing their operatic hearts out.
Until next time!
Caio
Marco
PEOPLE SAY THE DARNEDEST THINGS AND AUSTRIA
The time has come to place my new carryon size wheelie bag in the car and kindly ask Deanna to drive me out to the airport so that I can meet Dale and our journey can begin in earnest. The weather at Victoria International Airport was best described as “meh” and as such I didn’t feel that we were going to be missing much while we are away for the next 10 days.Today’s journey will be of epic length and will include three planes, one train and at least a couple of automobiles. For those keeping score at home, I have indeed just mentioned that our journey could be considered very similar to a movie from the 80’s where two fellows decide through necessity to travel together from New York to Chicago. Our journey neither starts nor ends in the Windy City, however it does begin on Vancouver Island and will hopefully finish some 27 hours later in Austria.
I suppose many of the keen movie buffs amongst you are wondering who of us most resembles the character played by the late great John Candy on this adventure. Suffice to say that I just had to remind Dale that those aren’t pillows he is jamming his hands into.After we organized boarding passes and said our goodbyes we made our way to CATSA screening and stepped into the abyss. It wasn’t too busy but unfortunately it was also understaffed and therefore slow going.The slow moving cue eventually split and along with several American ladies I was directed towards the furthest X-ray station. As there were only five travellers in our group, I soon began to wonder why it was taking so long to get to the point I could remove my IPad, small liquids and gels and place them gently into the neatly stacked white plastic bins as you do at every airport I have ever been to around the world.I stepped back a little to see if I could figure it out the delay.
It was no surprise I suppose that each of these ladies had believed it was a great idea to place each souvenir purchased, each piece of clothing worn and each copy of People Magazine read into their open top shopping bags. Just to further complicate things, the lovely and patient shepherd herding sheep today for CATSA had to ask that most of these items be separated and placed in additional bins.Upon completion of this seemingly arduous task I clearly overheard the shepherd ask if they had any electronic devices that they had not yet removed from their bags. The reply he got was quite unequivocal. “No” and with that the first bin was pushed along the rollers and into the X-ray.It disappeared for a moment and then soon returned back at breakneck speed. The shepherd asked if the owner of the bags in that particular bin if she was traveling with an IPad? The reply was “yes”. That was countered with “I thought you just told me you had no electronics in your bag?” A simple question I thought. But not so simple as it turned out. The lady in question replied that “in the states they have a different definition of electronics”.An IPad does not meet that definition apparently. Clearly the Kindle and IPhone subsequently appearing from the same bag moments later further pointed to the flawed Canadian broader definition of electronics.
We as Canadians need to stop causing real hardships for confused cross boarder shoppers. Perhaps Trudeau can publicly apologize (with tears) for that as well. He seems to be good at apologizing to everyone for everything.We got through eventually and we soon found a couple of stools to sit on at Spinnakers in the downstairs departure lounge. We sat there for an hour and then moved towards our gate.With typical WestJet banter the flight was called and we made our way aboard with high hopes of clear skies to Calgary. Our row was shy one passenger so we had tons of room. An hour or so later and we were on the ground in Calgary. A smooth transition to the international side and there we grabbed some dinner.After dinner we moved next door to a nicely appointed lounge called VIN. This place was a little upmarket but this is a vacation so a little treat can’t hurt.I soon spotted a sixty something man sitting on his own against the back wall attired from head to toe in Saskatchewan Roughriders apparel. For those who don’t know much about the Canadian Football League, this means he was dressed completely in green complimented with white logos.Initially I thought this guy must be a super fan who is getting in the spirit several months before the season kicks off. He must be just killing time in international until he meanders back to the domestic side to catch a flight home to Regina.
We sat down next to the super fan in question and I was just about to chat him up when his extremely forlorn looking wife appeared and slumped in the chair adjacent.Our perceptive waiter was soon to inquire if everything was ok. The rest is comedy gold and I will confidently state now that nothing will make me “LOL” harder on this trip than her well considered response. She took a deep breath as if she was about to weep and then explained she had just returned from checking the departure board and to her dismay their flight had been really delayed.The waiter asked where they were flying. Her response was to my surprise London. Before you judge me I just thought there aren’t many destinations on this planet that you would wander about dressed like a leprechaun with footballs silkscreened on your chest, London included. She went on to explain to the waiter that they were supposed to leave at 6:50 pm. The departure board now says the flight has been delayed to 18:50. That’s a really long time and the price of the waiters rum was very expensive.The waiter replied compassionately that he was sorry about the prices but the bastard never even thought about explaining the 24 hour clock to the misguided Rider faithful. With that she acquiesced and ordered another expensive rum and a half carafe of Diet Coke “on the side”.It wasn’t long before we were aboard WS1 bound for Gatwick and seated one row behind the privileged once again. Story of my life.
Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. WestJet operates transatlantic flights with a no frills service. You may purchase a meal if you wish. Don’t expect a blanket but the crew are cheerful and seem to really care about their customers.So much so that 4 hours into the journey our flight attendant came on the PA to request us to pull down our window blinds. She went on to advise that soon we would be “flying near the sun” and some passengers may prefer to sleep. Now I’m no historian but as I recall flying near the sun was not such a great idea for Icarus.I rejoin you today from Platform 2 at Salzburg railway station. We are resting after an 05:30 alarm and subsequent walking tour (self guided) through old Salzburg. Last night after a picturesque train journey from Munich we quickly stored our luggage in our room at the very hip Villa Carleton Hotel and then boarded a cab for a local beer garden. This place had several floors of beer halls and numerous food vendors that all had their own version of roast chicken and wurst. We drank a customary litre of the house brau and scoffed a couple curry wurst. A little bit of carnivore nirvana.
TAKE US TO THE LOBSTER SHACK PLEASE.
I had another title for today's blog but after much deliberation I have decided to go with this one. You see, without going into much detail I was going to make assertions that would probably upset and alienate too many people based on my stuffy old-fashioned biases. Whether I like it or not its 2017. Time marches on and so must I.
It's time to live and let live. Love and accept the many different things that people do to themselves to make them appear "unique" and forge on in a way that is non judgemental & be a strong proponent of vive la difference!Yesterday Mexico celebrated the day of the dead. This will come back to play a significant role in my story a little later. Yesterday afternoon, after many hours of snorkeling and lying about in the shade, it was time to make a decision about dinner and where to have it. I had been scouring the net for options in the town center and as such had found what appeared to fit the bill perfectly. Seafood in a bun, seafood in a bowl or seafood burritos. This place came highly recommended by hundreds before us as well as our lovely El Presidente Concierge Ana.All we had to do is request a cab and head towards what was shaping up in my imagination to be the experience of a lifetime. Our restaurant of choice tonight has countless five-star ratings on Google, Yelp, and the grand daddy of them all, Trip Adviser (Sorry Mr. Steves!!).
Ana hailed us a cab and soon afterwards we were driving at a pace akin to the speed of baby sea turtles, who (I recently learned) are born into the world from Cozumel's surrounding beaches. Today's driver was not as spry as our last (Juan). One could almost describe him as a dead man driving. I never quite got his name as he required what little energy he had left to drive his dilapidated Toyota Corolla from point A to B, let alone utter words.
Let's just say that I would be very surprised to to witness our driver survive the night to see mañana . Our nether-worldly driver appeared to be similar in stature to Juan but I couldn't swear to that as he never rose from his seat to get out of the cab. My guess is just under five feet tall, slim build and frail. From the Intercontinental Resort we meandered along Quintana Roo Road as mentioned earlier at a leisurely pace. Pedestrians strolled by us like we were standing still. Families of six all aboard their 125cc motorbike passed us like super bike riders racing the Isle of Man TT.
My beard was noticeably longer as we arrived at the city limits. If this was Juan at the wheel we would have been around the island once and lapped ourselves by now. My stomach was turning as I thought "oh my god", what is this going to cost us. If the meter goes by time and not distance we are going to have to sell fake Cuban cigars or god forbid, donkey rides on the beach to drunken Carnival Cruise day trippers to pay for this.
As we passed the Mega store I though to myself, that took us ten minutes last time. If this keeps up Deanna is going to have to bury me and our nameless driver together in this shock absorb-er-less Mexinese death trap. Deanna was happily perspiring to my left with nary a trouble in the world. I'm panicking Sky-walker!
So this continued for another five minutes before I said to Deanna, I mapped this place out on Google yesterday. It's just a five-minute walk from the Mega. By this time we were approaching wilderness and Cozumel Airport in the distance. Now, for the Talking Heads fans among us, I think these lyrics from their song "Once in a lifetime" will illustrate what was going on inside my head as I stared out of the cab.And you may ask yourselfWhat is that beautiful house?And you may ask yourselfWhere does that highway go to?And you may ask yourselfAm I right? Am I wrong?And you may say to yourself, "My God! What have I done?"
With the power invested upon me by the music of David Byrne, I summoned up the courage to ask a few questions of our octogenarian driver. I knew going into this that he only had so many breaths left to take so to keep my questions brief. "Señor are you driving to the Lobster Shack?" "Ci he replied!" "Are you sure?" "The Lobster Shack I asked again"? I could smell the synapses smoldering. Then came his reply. "Ci we go Lobster Shark".
What the ***k is a lobster shark? I just wanted a lobster sandwich. Now we are gonna be fed to lobster sharks. What are lobster sharks? I've never heard of them before. They sound like one of those hybrid villains I used to binge watch on Saturday morning Spider-Man cartoons as a lad.
Ok, I decide to throw caution to the wind and ask our driver to use what little life he has left to turn this wheelie coffin around and head back for the town centre. A while later we arrived. I asked him to pull over beside the nice man with a completely tattooed face and his pit bull so we could say our goodbyes.
Here it comes, 'how much Señor? 110 pesos Señor. So its 110 pesos to the Mega, or its 110 pesos to drive to the lobster shark feeding grounds and all the way back to tattooed face man. Ok, no argument here, and I paid the man before he ran out of time to spend it. I then turned and saw a Starbucks. This evening Starbucks stood in the distance like the Statue of Liberty. Starbucks was there to give respite to the poor, tired and huddled masses (as long as they buy an Americano).I just wanted their WiFi and damn it I got it. Hey Siri, find Lobster Shack. Three seconds later Siri says we are actually about 45 seconds away by foot. We follow the directions around the corner and there it is. Just as it looked in the dozens of photos attached to the reviews. Tables outside, menu looks awesome. It's closed!Good times!
YOU LIKE THE PICO DE GALLO AMIGO?
Paco and I have become fast friends. Paco is our ever-present waiter at Caribeno. Caribeno is one of four dining options here at El Presidente. There is a Mediterranean option, an Italian option, a creperie and Caribeno. I can't even begin to tell you what the other places are like because I love Mexican food. And as the man once said "when in Rome", you know the rest. Life is a beach, and here on the Island of Cozumel you can't stray far from one. If you despise white sand and turquoise water you better get your travel agent to look elsewhere as this place has it in spades. Only on one other occasion have I travelled to Mexico and that was sadly in my youth. My hazed recollections of that trip are PC and not for anything like this little blog. The upshot of that long ago adventure was that I swore to myself, I would never again travel across two borders to the south. As it turns out tequila has lasting and negative side effects that can deter you from travelling to what has turned out to be paradise. This resort is to me an excellent example of purposeful serenity. Now I know if you are a friend of the Aga Khan, you can travel to a private Xanadu somewhere in the Caribbean where unichs wave palms overhead and you can inject yourself (photo-bomb in Trudeau speak) into everyone's family photos because you think you are cool. But I'm neither cool nor a former on-call drama teacher, so that's not gonna happen.
You know sometimes when you see places in a glossy travel magazine, you think to yourself that cannot be real. So this story unfolds. This place is exactly how it appears in print and on the net. It is unreal. This is not an all exclusive and the prices for food and beverage are similar to at home so there is no savings in that regard. One can always opt to stay at an all-inclusive when in the Caribbean but upon reflection and with no personal experience to make the following statement. "With inclusivity comes a different vibe". The vibe that I can barely recollect from my youth when cerveza flowed like water and senseless waste was everywhere. Along with that vibe comes drunken buffoonery. Pearly white men in jean cut offs (to the knee) walking proudly about with a smoke perched over each ear and a different camo ball cap for every day of their stay. And before you ask that was never then or now me!!!!
On this trip I didn't need that. I didn't need anything to raise my blood pressure. Day one was already close to dropping the elephant right in his tracks given my "little" oversight. So here I am. Nobody has raised my eyebrows as yet. No one has been insulting or negative or even neutral in their demeanour. Everyone we have had the pleasure to meet has been so gracious and welcoming and proud. If you leave your chez lounge for a second someone sprints over to change your towel or refill your water. I greet everyone with a strong positive Ola! In return I get one back with Señor or better yet amigo tacked on to the end.
Yesterday afternoon we wandered into town by Taxi to visit the Mega Store. The Mega is where the locals shop here on the island. It reminded me of a Coop store you would find in the UK or Switzerland. Whatever you can think of the Mega has it. Just to back up a bit we asked the bell captain to order us a local cab. We are several miles out of the centre of town but it took just a couple of minutes for Juan to arrive. Once again we were greeted by a man in his late 50's who wore the biggest smile and the most humble of personalities. Juan drove us into town in his white Chevy compact cab. For such a small car on the outside the interior was fit for three of me. Leg room o'plenty and with the windows down and 90 miles an hour who needs air con? It's probably time to qualify the abundance of leg room comment just made. Perhaps if Juan was over five feet tall I may have struggled.
A few minutes later and we were into the store and Juan stood by for our return. We loaded up with a cooler, 24 bottles of 2 litre water, 18 Corona, Queso, Jamon, Bread, flip flops (cause three days ago I was going to Japan), and several other items. Some of those items may have been corn chips and salsa verde.
Twenty minutes later we emerged and loaded our purchases into Juan's cab. Done and done and we headed back towards El Presidente'. On the way we passed countless locals riding two up on their scooters. No need for rider protection wear in this country. En route back we did have a moment of shock which turned out to be hilarity just as we passed the cruise ship port for the island. Clearly there is no sobriety test required to rent a jeep on this island as the following happened right in front of our eyes.
Two millennial females passed by us like we were standing still. One drove as the other thought it was appropriate to be taking numerous standing selfie videos on her Iphone. They both clearly thought a lot of themselves by their actions & demeanour . The pursed lips and the posing was a dead giveaway. It was just as big a surprise for us as it was to the standing millennial when her driver and former BFF smashed the brake peddle throwing her former and recently standing friend's face into the windshield. Let's just say her selfie career is going to have to be put on hold for a couple of years unless she can get back to Miami and see her plastic surgeon ASAP. Juan uttered a single word "stupido". I like Juan!
Today, breakfast brought huevos rancheros with a healthy amount of pico de gallo, I asked for seconds! You now know where today's blog title fell from. Today brings more sun and tropical breezes. Deanna is lying under a palm umbrella . Allistair is breaking in his snorkelling gear and I sit in the shade telling stories. Bueno!
I HAVE SO MUCH EXPLAINING TO DO!
I have so many apologies to make. My wife, my son, the kiosk ticketing agents I took a shot at yesterday. I still can't come to grips with what has happened to us in the last 24 hours. The rush of emotions including guilt and shame combined with the overwhelming feeling of stupidity. Yesterday I made reference to being in my 50's, feeling my mortality and emptying the bucket list. Today I have to swap that malarkey for "I just had a senior moment" and the unrelenting "am I loosing it introspections?"
I guess it's now time to explain. Tuesday morning saw us early to rise, pull the drapes and peer across the runway at YVR to watch the early morning flights rolling towards the south runway and readying themselves for the off. We went to the lounge and had breakfast knowing all to well that we had 6 hours or so to right ourselves before departure. Deanna and I soon after jumped aboard the sky train and rode the rails like shopping hobos for two stops to get to McArthurglen Outlet mall.
OPULENCE, NOTHING LESS.
So here I sit with my feet up in my room 24 hours before I leave for Osaka. I am listening to the in room music service play classical guitar. Music soothes the savage beast they say. They must be right. I have not felt like yelling at anyone in several hours. I have no idea what the selection of canapés and beverages might look like when we cross the hall to the Gold Lounge. There is no apprehension here, I have trained myself for this showdown. Suffice to say I shan't be unhappy.yvrdeals.comwww.fairmont.com/VancouverAirport
A CHELSEA FAN?
I'M LOOKING FORWARD TO BIEBER!
JUST NEED A LITTLE BIT LONGER.
GOB SMACKED!
One Should Winter in Monte Carlo.
I CALL THIS ONE STRUBARB
Its been a couple of days since I last wrote but as we have been so busy well into the evenings I have not had the energy since being back in the UK. This morning I find myself looking out from my bedroom window southward into an overcast but as yet dry morning. Not much happens in this very small Lake District town in the National Park.On Sunday we touched down in the UK at Newcastle International Airport. We quickly rented a car and were off to the coast so I could do a bit of tour guiding around my first home and many of the sights in the area. We first stopped in for fish and chips in North Sheilds and sat overlooking the mouth of the Tyne River as ferry boats were leaving back towards Holland. The weather was perfect so we sat there for 45 minutes in the sun.
From there it was a drive along the coast to the north thru Tynemouth, Cullercoats, and Whitley Bay. We weren't the only ones soaking up the evening sun as the roads were busy and the walkers filled the coastal paths. Once we could clearly see St. Mary's lighthouse we pulled off the road and walked down to photograph it as the sun set.After a while the travel of the day began to catch up so we decided to pop in to the pub just around the corner from my old family home in the village of Cullercoats. The Sandpiper has never changed on the outside since 1972, but inside it has been redecorated into a super cool casual yet quite uncharacteristicly hip lounge feel. The chairs are covered in floral prints and most of the accouterments are in the color of sandstone. We each had a half a pint and vowed to return. A quick spin by the old house and then into Newcastle and the Holiday Inn Express in the center of the city.For a Sunday evening I could not get over the thousands of students out on the streets. Apparently Newcastle has become one of the country's favorite college towns. Three large campuses interwoven throughout the city overwhelms all other businesses to be seen. We got to sleep early and then early to rise. We were up, had our free breakfast and gone.
We headed over the Tyne Bridge and set sail for a little village where my grandparents lived to survey any change and wander the beach. Job done and then we walked about the little shops. Thankfully this place has not changed one iota because it is a very pretty and quaint.More driving and looking about and then back into Newcastle to have dinner with friends. Now it must be said that I had asked earlier in the day if we could have an Indian meal as it is my favourite and where I live good South Asian restaurants are rare.We met our friends at the Bodega pub for a few real ales and then pushed on to a place thirty yards from the HIE.
I believe AKBARS is a chain of restaurants in the north of England. Most of their dishes are Pakistani in spice origin which little did I know continues to effect you in a weird way 36 hours later. Oh my babaji was that hot. The yogurt accompanyment was unable to do its job. The Tiger beer was also useless. On fire people. When I asked the waiter how you ever get used to this he replied with his hands up in the air and his head moving from side to side " oh sir I do not eat this food. This is Pakistani and I am from Bangladesh. We do not eat such spicy food. I recommend a Bangladeshi restaurant for you sir".Well that advice was just a little tardy in our current sweaty state so we plod on and devour the flames like a fire eating side show freak at the carnival.
The thing was the meal was excellent. It tested your metal but was excellent none the less. We bid farewell to our friends who graciously treated us and promised to return next year to repay the favour. It was awesome to spend that time together. Guts churning but happy it was straight to bed for early to rise.After breakfast we loaded the car and left westward to Cumbria through the Tyne valley. The highway follows Emporer Hadrian's wall built in Roman conquest times to keep the angry Scots from entering without going through passport control.There are well preserved stretches of the wall visible from the highway as well as Roman forts. The sights and sounds don't stop with the Romans. We made a great decision to visit the town of Hexam.
It is a stunning place near to perfect in every way. I could live here as well. The town center is built around an abbey that can be dated back to the first century A.D.We met an elderly man inside who was a keen historian and volunteer who regaled us with many very interesting facts. I really could go on forever as he and this place were fantastic. We left the abbey and wandered the tight back streets to mail a postcard and enjoy market day in the town square. From Hexam we continued to Carlisle where Angus toured the university while I sat in the sun. Gus was suitably impressed and came away with lots of information.
We had a drive around Carlisle and then pushed on 31 miles south to the Lake District and our next AirBnB operated by Jan from South Africa. Jan told me that he met his local wife when her family emigrated to his country 40 years ago. They had been wanting to move back for many years and when the opportunity knocked they bought two listed GrII houses next door to each other. One they BnB and the other they live in. He took me in and immediately you could tell you were in a home built in the 17th century. Every doorway was small and the stairs narrow. But all that to say it was excellent. Two of its best features were that it was less than 5 minutes from the Bitter End and Swann pubs. We spent a couple of hours chatting to the bartender while enjoying the locally brewed Jennings bitter. Great host and very chatty.
At the Swann is where it got hyper British. In the snug next to our table sat a dozen blue haired coffin dodgers all having a pint or cup of tea while discussing the virtues of the right crackers to have when one is sampling different chutneys. Of course tonight was the night that the local gardners guild was having a little best of show competition to judge the years best chutney in the village. Gripping stuff and clearly very serious given the general conversation. They soon had me convinced this was not for the faint hearted. Then Tom took the floor to introduce his entry for 2016. Ladies and gents, I call this one "Strubarb". I have painstakingly blended the sweetest of seasonal strawberries and the tartest rhubarb to make this.
A deafening hush came upon the room. What was this abomination, this isn't cricket old boy. This is a traditional group, we don't go in for Strubarb. Sorry old man, not this year. Tom snatched his jar and crackers and stormed off. Serious group, serious chutney. It was good to know chutney is not up to anyones interpretation. To end the night was a walk to the late night chippy for the obligatory beer mop. Haddock and chips twice please. Order filled and back to Jan's place. BBC ten o'clock news, devour and sleep!Cheers!Mark
Waiter! Back in the States, we call that a Hawaiian Pizza.
Another day in the cradle of civilization went very well if I may say so myself. Given that we had already hit the majority of the “biggies” over the course of the last few outings, today was a day for “a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll”. For those in the crowd that love and pine for the retro tones of Donny and Marie, here’s looking at you kids!We left our place this morning once again on a straight shot to St. Peters. It may sound like we always end up there but actually we always end up there. Not always because we intend to but mainly because it is five minutes from our AirBnB on the way to literally everything else.
We walked straight by this morning except for one deviation as I stopped & watched intently as a plain clothes Roma Police team shook down a Gypsy who was a bit too aggressive with the elderly pilgrims in town for a “god time” not a long time. Just as I had observed a Caribinieri officer smash a “Gypo" for pickpocketing in Florence many moons ago, this was just as entertaining. Perhaps most reading this would think I may have a black heart but these thieving little Bas**ards deserve everything they get.
If you never ventured out of tourist Rome you may think that every Roman gets a mega stipend at birth so they may look, smell and be great. I guess its a rouse, these folks have jobs. We walked past the Italian Navy HQ. White uniforms were the order of the day and there were hundreds. I have been suffering with my obligatory heat rash about the ankles as per usual in this country. Deanna has suffered through many a day and night with me here (mostly Venice or Assisi) & helps me administer the usually useless ointments at the conclusion of every long day. Today I went to a pharmacy and in my best broken Italian asked the chemist what she thought.
Fifteen seconds later with a short confab with her senior and over the counter came a spray pump bottle containing instant relief and reversible symptom treatment within an hour.I have been here numerous times and just plain suffered. Stupid is as stupid does once said a wise ping pong playing man. So with relief came a notion to head to a cafe, have some lunch and a beer or two and then finish it all off with a tiramisu and a wicked smooth espresso. Joy in Mudville peeps, all is well in the world. Fuelled and good to go. 150 meters west and we stood in front of a church I did not recognize. The Church of Gesu’. Im gonna say it, second best and rivalling the best of the bunch we have had the honour to visit. I’m all out of adjectives. Crazy crazy beautiful. After 45 minutes sitting in several seats around the building with our necks cranked way back it was time to think about the off.Uber requested and a six minute wait.
While we wait I will explain todays title. About an hour earlier, all was going smoothly at the Cafe Napoleon. Then Chip and Buffy and their friends Chip and Buffy decided to co-join our table. Buffy 1 had one policy. Only stop talking when food was inserted in her gob. Her incessant jabbering about Alabama was starting to make my ears bleed. Chip 1 didn't say much, I'm not sure he was authorized to. Our waiter was good, multi lingual and really sharp. Buffy 1 wanted pizza. She pointed to the menu in an effort to order. It would have been much easier to annunciate but oh well. The waiter confirmed her choice of prosciutto & pineapple as he clearly didn't get many locals placing that order. He spoke clearly in English to confirm the choice. He read back the toppings. Thats when Buffy 1 tried to explain in “American” that back in the states they call that a Hawaiian Pizza.
Luca tried to keep a straight face however there was a strong hint of you are a stupido oozing out from his every pour. Next came Buffy 2 who only wanted a salad as she was watching her weight (we learned). Buffy 2 wanted to know if she could get ranch dressing on the side. The response from Luca was what kind of dressing? Olio and balsamic, that is what we have. Buffy 2 was just a little stunned as they have ranch dressing back in the states and as it turns out on Carnival Cruise lines too. Chip 1 and Chip 2 ordered pasta carbonara. This prompted Buffy 2 to reconsider her original order. “Could I have a pasta carbonara too waiter? Trump could win….. Buffy 2’s diet starts tomorrow!
Cheers,
Marco
DOES USING UBER MAKE ME A 51 YEAR OLD HIPSTER?
Nine long hours on foot around Rome today. I was “losing power Captain” and I needed some help to keep my happy place and happy face in tact. Just then I discovered a cure for this uncivilized pain. It is app based and it is amazing. Little did I know until late this afternoon as I sat next to a beautiful and cooling fountain in a curiously silent piazza that life doesn't have to be hard. Uber is a thing & it exists in Rome. Angus had the occasion to use it several times in London 3 weeks ago without a hitch. So what the hell, I started an account and began to see the simplicity in this service.I know most of you know everything I'm going to say already, but I was taken with the process and the ability to monitor our Uber’s location on my phone as he made his way for our pick-up. I could see the drivers photo, I knew his name was Massimo and that he would be arriving in a black BMW 5 Series. All of which came true 6 minutes later. Massimo arrived in a Italian tailored suit, sporting short hair and a Roman attitude. This was fine.
The app had sent me a quote for 18 Euros back to our Air BnB. Twelve minutes later and we were there. Slick, cool and a must do-over for sure.What took us to the piazza that Massimo had just picked us up from you ask? Well I am more than happy to tell you. This morning was a rough one. We got up early again as it seems there has been little in the way of jet lag to suffer through so far. We walked Southeast on Via Aurelia until we reached our first stop of the day back at St. Peters Square. We knew yesterday that the Pope would be giving mass today and as you can imagine so did close to 90.000 faithful present. I never thought that this would happen but it has. I have seen the Pope live and on jumbo-tron. A life memory of epic proportion.
At the conclusion of the outdoor service we wandered back to the Tiber and crossed the Ponte Principe into the centre of Roma. Just like last year I was absolutely blown away with some of the most stunning hole in the wall churches and cathedrals that literally line the streets on both sides and in every direction. You wander into a nondescript doorway to find yourself in a narnian world. You think you are venturing into a phone booth sized room. The next thing you know you are in a room the size of a soccer pitch from end to end and floor to ceiling.
From the Pantheon we walked to the Trevi Fountain. The last time I was here it was closed for a makeover. For those who think a trip to Vegas and its Bellagio or Venetian Hotels are a true and accurate depiction of all that is remarkable about Italy, then think again. Neither are, and in fact they are a soulless misinterpretation for the slack jawed troglodytes that arrive via Southwest Airlines because they love the sounds of the slots and the taste of Marlboro.The Trevi is the real deal. That is marble and lots of it. Those statues were carved not made of plaster of Paris. It is something. If I am lying why was there 5000 visitors standing shoulder to shoulder around me to make a wish and toss a coin into it's pools. It is remarkable. From the Trevi we made our way to the Forum and then on to the Colosseum. That walk has an innate ability to send you back in time. You are riding aboard a chariot or drinking wine under a palm. My retention of Roman history is not fantastic but I do recall that to be a Roman in the those days meant privilege and a life of civility. I believe to some degree the people here are still living a life of privilege.
La Dolce Vita is here in spades. Style is seen on foot, in cars or aboard a screamingly fast scooter. Prada high heeled shoes do work as the perfect accoutrement to a Momo Scooter helmet. Believe me its true.It was time to wander from the crowds, so taking another Rick Steves suggestion we walked west back across the Tiber to Trastevere. Immediately the pace of life slowed and the trattorias and vino bars were full of locals. This is going to be my go to for the remainder of the stay here in the nations capital. Awesome vibe. So here we are back full circle. I forgot to mention several notable moments today. My Lemon Gelato and my macchiato whilst standing at the bar, both were terrific in their own way.
Back at our Air BnB now, I am a converted Uber user. I travelled in BMW luxury. Upon receiving my e-receipt I was pleasantly surprised that the quote sent earlier of 18 Euro was a tad over zealous. The fare ended up being 16.00 Euros. I am a hipster and I didn't even have to swill Portland micro brew over my perfectly trimmed beard whilst wearing a plaid shirt. I call that a good day!
Arivaderci!
Mark
WITHOUT SUFFERING, A PILGRIMAGE IT IS NOT
That is a dramatic title for what was just a wee bit of suffering.
This is the second night that finds me sleeping in an apartment that literally sits in the shadow of the Vatican walls. Last night we landed at Fumancino Airport in Rome after our second flights of the day arrived from London and Paris respectively. What comes as a shock to me is that all of those thousands of miles were enjoyable & truly seamless. No hassles, great transatlantic sleeps and very good in-flight service. In fact after rubbing elbows with thousands of weary travellers in airports and during our first day in Rome, it was Sunday's experience of a lifetime aboard a BC Ferry that led me to believe this journey may be cursed. We were seated first but unfortunately for us it was the party of two that followed who would be our entertainment and pause for concern.
I will start by saying that the man in this couple was not the problem. He did his best to nervously laugh when appropriate and crisis negotiate when he got the feeling that his life was hanging in the balance. His table mate (Attila) was somewhat animated. It was clear soon into breakfast that this poor man was going to be carrying the weight of every husband, boyfriend, fling or pen pal that Atilla had ever had or attempted to conquer. The storys of Attila's woe were magnificent and colourful, if not concerning and suspenseful. Both concerning and suspenseful in the way that you watch and listen intently at a Stephen King movie when you fancy a good old fright.
Atilla's shrill voice and regular thrusting motion towards this kind man with her fork in a terrorizing fashion was starting to slow (but not curb) my ability to inhale the ferry eggo waffles (with the strawberries and whipped cream).I watched mid chew as the poor man pushed his chair back at one point to create time and distance. Not a bad plan I thought to myself as I watched his body twitch uncontrollably in a defensive posture. If we had a right as Canadian's to bestow medals on other Canadians, that guy would have been awarded a chest full as we pulled in to Tsawwassen terminal.It was not until we were walking to our bus on the ferry that I overheard the man speak to Attila in a very pensive manner. The man told Atilla that this was the first time that he ever travelled to play in the Vancouver Symphony orchestra with anyone other than his wife and that he would now gently and carefully bid farewell. He would be making the rest of the journey into the city with a waiting friend who unfortunately drives a two seater Smart car. I sensed this veiled and weak excuse was a fib. But hey, I can't believe he took the barrage of stranger danger from Attila for that long (considering he had just met her the night previous at a rehearsal). Wind instruments make strange bedfellows. So..... We are here in Vatican City. The weather is glorious and the temperature is 27. I was up at 5 and it was time to make online reservations for the Vatican Museum. For those who have been you will remember the lines and the crowds. For those who look forward to a visit, there are two very important actions that must be undertaken. Get a reservation and make it early.
I had downloaded my Rick Steves podcast tours for everything Vatican and a ticket confirmation pdf. on my phone by booking online. Upon arrival by foot we strolled by literally thousands waiting in lines and walked right in.Second time in the Vatican museum for me and a first for Gus. I followed him as he walked slowly trying to take it all in. I attempted to photograph his hanging jaw. The museum is second to none. Every artifact is stunning. The gardens are wonderful and the Sistine Chapel is out of this world. It is hard to comprehend when you are gazing up at the ceiling of the chapel that the frescos were painted by Michelangelo.
The chapel irregularly hosts all the cardinals at the time of Papal election.We left the museum and set course for St.Peters Square. Ten minutes later and we had exchanged smiles with several of the Pope's Swiss Guard and we were through security & bound to enter the basilica.Photos not words will hopefully paint a picture of this church and all its grandure. We took the time to sit in silence with other worshippers. I felt a tad rusty as I have not been to mass for several years. I'm glad we did. From there we toured the toombs of the Popes that had gone before. We left after nearly three hours feeling really good inside. If only our feet felt the same way. Sore and tired but not to be stopped, we walked east towards the Tiber and along its banks. More to see and then a quick pit stop for a sandwich and water at a local grocery store. A seat outside of a beautiful white Roman building allowed us time to snack. Five kilometres later (up-hill) and we are back at our AirBnB. As the dining room clock struck 7:00 pm Gus was snoring and I began this rambling.
There is always tomorrow.
Ciao
Marco.....
