I LOVE GOOOOOLLLLLD
Before I stoop to another Goldmember quote, (the only Dutch movie character parody I’ve ever seen) I should catch you up on where we have been for the last few days. We pulled into Gent with all the best intentions to see one of Europe’s perfectly kept Cities.
Sadly our time in the otherwise quiet little hub was thrown to the wolves as we landed ourselves in town for Gentfest.Every Belgian from near and far had descended here to get down with any or every musical genre you could imagine. It was ok but not what we looking for. We split pretty quick (I am a poet and don’t even know it) and made our way to Ypres. Success and an absolutely A+ afternoon in a perfect place.
We wandered for hours until the internal clock told Alli it was time for moule’s et frites.We both opted for white wine sauce. Such a good evening at a top notch brasserie. Our waiter spoke only four languages fluently and he worked the terrace of 25 tables like a robot. Nobody had an empty glass. Nobody looked like they were wanting for anything.It makes you stop and ponder as to how 3 waitresses at the Penny Farthing Pub back home frequently allow three very well paying customers to remain as parched as a fly on a camels ass from arrival to departure.
That Belgian man was indeed a professional and I went as far to tell him so more than once. Sadly another saga nears its close and I currently sit on the 5th floor of our hotel peering towards the North runway of Schipol Airport. We have been in Amsterdam for 3 days now which has given us some time to live a little like the Dutch (sans the red light district nastiness or THC lollipop consumption).We have wandered the canals, seen Anne Frank’s home and even replaced a battery in an iPhone 6 at the Amsterdam Apple Store.
From the old to the new is all to be tried and tested here. It is a nation of giants. Seemingly all Dutch folks ride bikes or scooters like the cast of Mad Max. The first one with Mel Gibson, not that other shit. Amsterdam is a city that tolerates almost anything or anyone.To say this city is liberal in outlook would be a definite understatement. “And the sign says long haired freaky people must apply”. Almost everyone of our stops on this adventure have had a cafe culture.Amsterdam is certainly that way as well but on steroids.
You have two choices. You can tempt fait and risk your life with the cyclists and scooteratti coming at you on the sidewalk from all angles and directions or you can take one pace backwards and fear not as you fall into a chair of one of the 4000 cafes (according to trip advisor) that line the streets and canals. The public transit is top notch and almost Swiss in punctuality.
I keep wanting to speak ill of London’s Tube or Paris’s Metro in comparison but I have to put it into perspective. Amsterdam has a population of 900,000 and London and Paris are 10,657,000 and 2,241,000 in comparison. I couldn’t organize a cab journey for 5 so I better check myself before I wreck myself. Sadly its over.We are checked in online and we are bound for the airport in the morning to climb aboard our KLM flight for Seattle. Thanks to Deanna and Allistair for making this trip one never to forget. Not too many husbands nowadays can say that they have celebrated a silver anniversary with their wonderful wife. Love you buddy! Thanks to the guys at work for holding the fort while I gallivant.Next week I will be back with my nose to the grindstone and hoping to quickly get back in the groove. Until next time!I am truly grateful for the well over 14000 visitors to this site over the years.
Cheers...Mark
NO EMBELLISHMENT REQUIRED.
I left you last time from my lounge table at the Holiday Inn Express in Affoltern am Albis. This is a pretty little town just a little north of Lucerne. Our afternoon’s journey took us through valleys bordering the Alps and early in the evening we pulled in shattered from the drive and the heat. In Affoltern we checked in and I got the blog knocked out, finished my beer and got up to head to the elevator.
Just as I got to my feet I caught a glimpse. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Three tour buses pulling up in front of the hotel one after the other.Not only was this a bus tour Mecca, it was the same folks from Interlaken who we had dodged several hours earlier. I picked up my pace to try to get on the elevator (one only) before well over a 100 bus tourists were assigned their rooms from their yellow flag carrying cyborg leaders. Epic fail, too late.
The procession had begun. Deanna and I looked at our concierge with sad puppy dog eyes. He took pity on us and brought us into the back of house to use the staff elevator to the 6th floor. I felt like a rock star escaping a throng of rabid fans “out the back door of the theatre”. It’s good to be an IHG Spire customer as several of my brothers in arms know too well. The following morning the breakfast area was like feeding time at the zoo.
If you felt like taking your life in your hands now was the time to try and jockey for position at the trough. I could not understand the bus tour banter however I think they were enjoying shutting us out. We regrouped and waited for the surly drivers to arrive and bark loading times and other orders at the bus tourists. It did not seem to me that they liked their job by their tone and facial expressions.
What I did notice however is that these fellows were clearly not to be trifled with and they must be well known for driving off leaving tardy passengers behind on a regular basis. That all being said the breakfast room cleared out in seconds and calm was restored. Bliss! The following morning was spent in Laufenburg, Switzerland. The place is spectacular. The photos do not do it a quarter of the respect its owed.
The remainder of our day was spent travelling through rural Switzerland and the black Forrest of Bavaria. We finally called it a day in Fruedenstadt, Germany. It was a treat to check in to our little Bavarian hotel and soon after we were into the middle of town and the Centrum platz. We made for the local Brau Haus and quickly got down to business with Pilsners and an unreal selection of pigs knuckle, sour kraut and schnitzel.
A wonderful meal served by typically grumpy fifty something ladies dressed in local garb (use your imagination). Dinner was fantastic but Allistair was a little put out by the amount of Kirsht in his Black Forrest Sundae. Life is hard for teenagers! Back to the hotel and soon to sleep. We woke not too long after and joined our fellow guests for a wonderful breakfast and then packed the car for our journey north. We set the GPS for Wetzlar just past Frankfurt. Wetzlar is home to Leica camera. It’s factory and world HQ. I have been a devoted fan of Leica cameras since photography became a hobby. Their history is long and colourful. Without Leica we would not have enjoyed so many of the photographs we call iconic today. Leica have provided tools for the best and brightest photographers to capture & catalogue history. We enjoyed coffee and cake at the Leica cafe’ to begin with then moved on to the exhibit centre, gallery and store. I have been lucky to own a Leica in the past but not recently and today makes me lust after one now even more.
From Wetzlar we moved onto Ghent in Belgium this afternoon. The autobahn and an average speed of 175 kmh helped with our arrival time but not my nerves. You think you are Sebastian Vettel as you rocket along, but furious Germans are on your bumper flicking their high beams incessantly so that you get out of their way. You think you’re fast, they go much much faster. Germany’s roads are scary but please go anyway, we met some lovely Syrian dial-a-dopers (economic migrants doing well, you might say) last night after dark in the platz.
I call them as I sees them and these telephone based narcotic delivery specialists were doing quite well for themselves by the look of their bling, several burner phones and shiny new Nike Shox (prison shoes in Canada). Anyway, we are here and resting before we spend the next couple of days wandering Ghent prior to moving on to conclude our trip in Amsterdam.
I leave you with this. Don’t bus tour. It really looks like the most miserable of times! And what do you see? You see what others tell you to see and then you wage war with your new friends (you never wanted) at the buffet every morning and night until its all gone and so is your will to live. It sounds shit cause it is shit.
Live well!
BIG DAY, THE TOUR AND MONT BLANC.
It has been a whirlwind of a couple of days. Yesterday with heavy hearts we bid farewell to Bonnieux and our ages old stone cottage. Provence was phenomenal and didn’t disappoint for weather, beauty or tranquility. We set sail for Albertville in Northeast France as the tour was to kick off at noon. We made good time and as a result we learned a few things being considerably early.
First, the early bird gets the worm. By worm I mean it gets pelted with freebies from the dozens of sponsormobiles. Each sponsor has worker-bees who are roped on to the back of their vehicles in precarious positions so that they can throw anything from tiny sausages to lanyards to hats (got one) to the thousands of totally committed fans that line the route.It took 3x longer for the sponsor peloton to go by than the actual peloton 2 hours later (spoiler alert).
But when the real peloton comes by it is quite something I must admit. It is another bucket list’r checked off. I’ll say it again, quite something. When you have seen the last rider go by you actually feel a bit of an adrenaline dump.I can’t say for sure that I even caught a glimpse of the maillot jaune but that’s ok. It was an awesome afternoon where we were right there on the side of the road.
For countless years every July we have have eaten our family dinner on our laps in front of the TV watching the tour from home in Victoria. The scenery, the spectacular racing, the controversy (thanks Lance).We moved on from Albertville to Chamonix to catch a glimpse of Mont Blanc. As a kid I was completely consumed by the extreme ski films made by Warren Miller. Chamonix was always a location for some of Warren’s best skiers to do what they do in order to thrill every ticket paying movie goer.So it all came together.
I got there (in the wrong season mind you) and it is beautiful. To see Mont Blanc there in all its glory was just a bit over the top. The glacier falls away from the summit and the ice is a beautiful bright blue.Today we drove to Interlaken in Switzerland and I was not shocked to see the dozens of tour buses near the railroad station (there wasn’t a Swiss person to be seen).
We set the GPS for a restaurant high atop the town at quite an elevation. [wpvideo wlLTPHlB]The Eiger stands proud nearby and we were entertained by the view from table. Like it was on cue, dozens of parasailors fell from the sky above us and disappeared below to the valley floor. Tomorrow we hope to up our game and head towards the Black Forrest in Bavaria.
Hop Suisse!
Mark…
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.
[wpvideo dURDok1Q ]
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
I BRUSHED MY TEETH WITH BUM RASH CREAM.
It has been nearly 72 hours since I decided that the tube of hydrocortisone in my shaving kit was a travel size tube of Crest toothpaste. I must admit that it took about 6 seconds of vigorous brushing before the shock kicked in.The taste was not as I recalled and the immediate sensation of being sick to my stomach was not as per usual either. I looked down to the bathroom counter and to my horror it all became clear. The label says for external use only, so thats a problem right off the bat.When in Britain one must keep a stiff upper lip and “Never Surrender”. I am just hopeful to have an upper lip when I wake up tomorrow, stiff or otherwise. So as I sit knocking out today’s blog I can say that no matter what I eat or what I drink tastes like hydrocortisone. OK, moving on. Today is Saturday but not just any Saturday in Oxford’s calendar. This afternoon is the annual Boat Race as Oxford Universty rows against Cambridge on the Thames for the 163rd consecutive year. This sporting event is rumoured to bring out sometimes close to a million fans along the banks of London’s famous murky river.
After lunch we decided that we should try to find some of the most quaint villages we could, so we drove on to Chipping Norton. I met a fella on the street there who put us on to (as he described) the most picturesque village of them all. He said you have to go and see Lower Slaughter. Not a better name for a crime novel but as we drove into the tiny village your breath is taken away by the picture postcard setting. I suggest that if you are at all interested please search google images for this village. I do not have the vocabulary to do it justice.After a few more hours in the country we eventually wound our way back to the hotel and the drive was spectacular. We stopped in the hotel bar on the way to our room for a couple of local pints. Job done and to bed for an early morning set aside for souvenir shopping.I could go on and on but I am drawn to the television now. The women’s race is on and Cambridge is several boat lengths ahead. I do not want to miss the rest of the afternoon’s excitement so I bid you farewell. Tomorrow is for home and to reconnect with family.Cheers!Markp.s. Cambridge was victorious in all 4 races this afternoon.
The Last Bus (Actually Hyundai) to Woodstock.
Give Way to Oncoming Traffic!
Most will know that the vast majority of European cars are much smaller than the ones driven on the highways and byways of North America. There are several reasons for that of course. Fuel is expensive, so a smaller car burns less. The roads in some places are quite narrow and a small car helps navigate those journeys in a safer manner.
Most of our travels up until yesterday in the highlands and on Skye have been on normal dual carriageways and therefore you could be driving a tank and still have plenty of room to manoeuvre. That abruptly stopped yesterday. Trying to fit our Ford Focus between the gravel shoulders has been akin to watching me trying to fit more than one leg into a pair of 32” waiste jeans.But miracles do happen and so far so good. Being attentive is key to survival. If a semi-truck fully laden with Cod is set for south when you are set for north on a road just a little narrower than the width of a Focus, then terror ensues. When I say terror I mean that phenomenon of fight or flight. That truck (lorry) is coming no matter what. What do you do? The clock is ticking. Do you break with force and reverse with vigor? Do you pull off to the left and hope that the peaty bog does not swallow you up and hold you hostage? Do you play chicken and hope not to become the latest in a plethora of hood ornaments on the massive Volvo truck speeding towards you?
Ten times out of ten I go with slam on the breaks and reverse trying not to deficate whilst screaming in terror. No, those are not tears you see. Tears or a show of emotion would be for big babies not experienced emergency vehicle operators such as myself. Suffice to say the only thing keeping me from my hotel bed and the fetal position is the liquid courage that comes in the form of a smokey golden viscous liquid produced from the purest of waters in the coldest of air.Over the last couple of days we have had the immense pleasure to make stops along our way at two of Scotland’s finest Scotch Distilleries. Yesterday was Dalwhinnie and today on Skye we took in Talisker. Dalwhinnie has the distinct geographic notoriety as Scotland’s highest and coldest distillery. On both accounts it did not disappoint. Several layers of clothing along with woollen accoutrements were required to brave the tour. Regardless of the conditions the tour was wonderful and we both learned a lot about the distilling process.
Deanna is not one who has enjoyed the spoils of a wee dram before, so the tasting experience after the tour was timely and thoroughly enjoyed by both of us. There was absolutely no pressure to buy as we concluded but that did not put us off and a bottle of the 15 year old and two complimentary glasses went into the shopping bag.We continued along the highway to Skye from the Highlands through the Cairngorms National Park. Our next stop was for an obligatory photo op at Eilean Donan Castle. I have seen hundreds of photos of this place in the past and it was just spectacular in person. We spent half hour just gazing across the bridge at its buttresses and ramparts. I am so glad the rain was on a tea break.
We made our way back into town for the COOP and picked up a few things for a picnic dinner in the room. As I sit here rambling I am almost driven to distraction from the winds outside pounding our windows from the west and the Irish Sea.I am sure that you are sick and tired of this nonsense by now so I will provide you with some sorely earned respite from my rubbishy stories. Tomorrow finds us heading southeast to Edinburgh and the hopes that we arrive in time to find a pub that does not hate the English so much that we can watch their team take on Ireland in 6 Nations Rugby action at 2:45 pm.
Live well!
The Children of the Corn and Lawrence
Leaving Victoria we were just a little stunned to be waved off by what appeared to be blue skies and sunshine. Regardless of this minor miracle we couldn’t stick around because we had to get to Seattle to change planes for London Heathrow and beyond.As most who fly regularly into SEATAC already know, landing there means dealing with the TSA. It begins with the instructions of a slack jawed troglodyte to recheck your already checked baggage and then subject yourself to a full cavity search. If they like what they see or touch you may proceed to the next stage in the process.Next comes the train that takes you on a magical mystery tour from terminal to terminal that actually turns out to be a waste of time and way faster to walk. We made it to the area of our connecting gate in terminal S and found a comfortable chair in a quiet nook of the departure lounge.For the first couple of hours it was joyous.
Then arrived a family of seven that appeared to be supervised by parents (and I use that word loosely) who couldn’t care less how much noise their children made, damage they caused or mayhem they created.All 5 kids appeared to be under 6 years old and were left to do as they thought fit while mom applied layer after layer of makeup and dad looked away in silence and what appeared to be regret. I will never know if they were from a flyover state, but I can almost guarantee you that somewhere in Iowa, there is an evil farmer’s corn field missing it’s horror movie children.At 6:30 we boarded British Airways flight 48 and took our seats in the 26th row. This does not sound like choice seating however for those frequent flyers that know the Boeing 777 it is.
As it turns out we were in the first row at an exit that provided more leg room than we could have used if we wanted. Our flight attendant was an example of the grooming standard set by British Airways. Lawrence was a man of mid to late 20’s and not only was his uniform impeccable but his recent hair cut, perfectly trimmed beard and manicured eyebrows spoke volumes. I knew several things about Lawrence just by taking time to listen to his softly spoken banter with other members of his team and the odd traveller. Foremost, at no time should I refer to Lawrence as Larry or Lar. Lawrence would not stand for it and was easily the most passive aggressive, surly slightly built man I would encounter for the next 9 ½ hours. I could sense that on most transatlantic flights Lawrence would have not been providing his standard of service to any passengers seated so far back as row 26.
Lawrence flew amongst those in rows 1-8 and as such was uncomfortable trying to make small talk with the plebs back here. I thought to myself at some point that I would try and take the chance to break the ice, however I was met with “do you want the butter chicken or the spinach ravioli? There isn’t much chicken left you should know.” “I’ll have the Chicken Lawrence”. That didn’t make Larry happy but c’est la vie.
We arrived a little before schedule and made our way through passport control in no time flat. Grabbing our bags we were whisked out of terminal 5 and into the Enterprise shuttle. We grabbed our Ford Focus diesel (side note it goes almost 700 miles on a tank.) and made our way for the M40 and north to the Lake District in the north west of England. Once past Lancaster we looked for the first opportunity to get off the motorway and into the lakes. We drove through slate roofed village after village that stunningly lined the southern lake shores. The sun was setting on our left over the water and the pub goers were starting to fill the sidewalks peeking in windows to investigate which one looked the best for dinner and a pint.
Many families and couples with their dogs all looking for the perfect Cumberland sausage with mashed potatoes and onion gravy. Windermere and Ullswater are absolutely jaw dropping and it’s clear to see why so many writers, painters and poets have made their way here over the years. We soon after arrived at the Dale Head Inn on Lake Thirlmere. The Inn is 300 hundred or so years in age but in great condition. We were welcomed by the manager/owner and not unlike my favourite episode of Fawlty Towers he advised us that the kitchen was closed and he couldn’t offer any food. I thought about the offer of cash for a Waldorf salad but I think that may have been rude.
But from every negative there is a positive and in this case we were directed back down the ¼ mile driveway to cross the dark road that brought us here. From there turn north for a hundred yards and we should find the King’s Head. This was an epic recommendation and we stepped inside to a roaring fire and the happy faces of the young bar staff who took our orders. Two pints of bitter and dinner was to be roast lamb and an outstanding gourmet burger. We relished the ambiance and made friends with those on either side of us and their dogs. After dinner and the short walk back to the Dales Head where we’re out like lights. The following morning found us early to rise (03:45 hrs, stupid jet lag) and we got our gear on. A flask of tea prepared in our room and back packs packed for our jaunt to Lake Buttermere. We left just before 6 and it took us around 45 minutes by car to arrive in the little village of Buttermere itself. We parked up in a National Trust parking lot and got our hiking boots on.
A 15 minute walk from the parking lot got us to the trail that goes around the lake. Dawn was breaking and we were the only ones there except for one landscape photographer clearly “catching the worm”. We stopped for a bit so I could set up my tripod and get my gear out for a few shots from this iconic location. I packed this gear all this way and after all that I forgot the bracket that attaches my camera to the tripod and my camera battery was on its last legs. Nice one genius. But as one does when one is faced with a challenge, they adapt and overcome. And just like Clint Eastwood in one of his lessor box office successes (Heartbreak Ridge), I did just that while Deanna paced the lake shore in a hypothermic state.
We soon rambled on for real and just shy of 9 kilometres later we were untying our boots back at the car park. We discussed the Ayrshire cattle that made little effort to get out of way on the trail and the spectacular scenery that surrounded us. Once put back together again we walked into the village to find a pub for a full English breakfast and a coffee to further our great start to the day. Job done! Half an hour later, after a superb meal and some lovely conversation with the publican. She told us that she and her husband had recently returned to the area after living 20 years abroad in South Carolina. Apparently Trump has this effect on people.
Having had the opportunity to travel to South Carolina a few years ago I know it is a very nice state, however if I had the choice of either there or where I spent my early morning I would choose Buttermere a hundred times over. We drove off to the west and our next stop was Ennerdale. I first had the good fortune to walk in to this town with Dale at the end of Day 1 of the Coast to Coast walk in 2015. Since then I have visited on three other separate occasions. I love this village as well. The community spirit is high and the area is breathtaking. We stopped in for tea and piece of Victoria sponge cake that I must admit may be near the top of the many reasons that keeps bringing me back. We had a great chat with the staff and left with a very wide smile on our faces.North to our next stop at the Ennerdale Brewery. A cheeky ½ pint of their finest each and back on the road to Keswick for a wander around the streets of this walker’s and climber’s nirvana. We parked, paid for parking and then I reached into the back of the car for my coat. I thought to myself, I hope the brewery is still open when we get back in 45 minutes to collect my coat from the chair I hung it on when we arrived their 2 hours ago. Being old is an affliction and as far as my memory goes I can’t remember when it went south (hahaha). So back in the car to collect the jacket just before the brewery office staff call it a day.
Mission accomplished and back to Keswick and the intended walk was next on the cards. The streets of Keswick are lovely. It is an outdoorsy village reminding me of Banff or Jasper on a smaller scale. We bought a few bits and pieces and then made our way back to the Dale Head to drop off our things before dinner back at the King’s. One more beautiful meal with great ambiance that set us on another crash course for sleep at all costs.Today we rose at a normal time and went down to the breakfast room for an awesome meal at a seat overlooking
Thirlmere Lake. We soon after packed up the car and set off for Perth in Scotland. About a 4 hour drive and kind of out of the way considering we are heading towards the Isle of Skye on the West coast of Scotland. Perth is not far north of Edinburgh and is not known for too much other than being a nice small city of 50,000 with a fantastic military museum and a lot of new car sales dealerships. Our reason for coming to Perth has nothing to do with loitering around new cars as you can imagine. No, in fact we are hear because Deanna knows how much I like a British comedian known as Stewart Lee. He is currently in the tail end of an 18 month tour of the UK and this gig just dovetailed perfectly into our trip. The tickets were a lovely Christmas present and tonight we grabbed a cab from our luxurious Perth Holiday Inn Express to the Perth Concert Hall for a 7:30 start. I can tell you that it is now 12:18 a.m. and my stomach is still sore from the incessant laughter of nearly three hours of Stew’s stand up routine. Stew can be found on YouTube, but I warn you to say if your sense of humour is not very dry and you don’t go in for hyper sarcasm just give him a miss. Tomorrow we head for Skye with several distilleries and castles in between.
EVERYONE ASKED IF I HAD SEEN THE ICEBERGS YET.
It is just under 4 hours from Anna’s garage to the Glacier lake known as Jokulsarlon. I left before sun-up around 8:30 this morning and I drove and I drove. I made a quick stop back in Vik to catch some different light down at the black beach. I think it was worth it.
By the time arrived at Jokulsarlon the sun was on its way back down. I have never chased light like this before for my photography. Seconds mean missing the perfect look or at least what I had Imagined.
I met a father around my age and his adult son. He asked where I was from and I told him expecting him to ask where is that. But no, he knew exactly where I was talking about. He and his family had traveled there by ferry twice in the last ten years. His son was wearing a Seattle Seahawks hat so I assumed that they were from the Pacific Northwest.
Wrong again. I asked where they were from and he responded Atlanta. He didn’t expect me to tell him I had been there twice for Baseball Showcase Tournaments. I then said we actually spent 90% of the time in Marietta just north of the ATL. He said that’s funny, that’s where we live. We stood about for thirty minutes in sub zero temperatures discussing our favorite Marietta restaurants and just occasionally icebergs and Iceland.Its a small world, remember that!Cheers,Mark
YOU HAVE TO BE RESILIENT TO LIVE HERE!
For those who remember the 90’s Scandic Pop diva Bjork, you will be able to picture in your mind my first two hours at Iceland’s Keflavik Airport. There has not been too many times I can say that using Hotwire to book a hotel or rental car has gone bad. Last night in Paris I made one of my biggest travel mistakes ever by using Hotwire to book with Budget.A few steps into the arrivals lounge in Iceland and things became a lot clearer. There was 2 customers at Hertz. There were no customers at Europacar and there was approximately 45 people ahead of me in the Budget line. We all know that no matter how much time you take to be prepared for the rental agent with your licence and credit card at the ready, they are always going to try to up sell you and grind you as much as they can.It took just shy of two hours in line to make it to the desk and then this happened. BJORK’S evil twin stood before me. Perhaps the face of an Icelandic Angel but the savvy of the worst used car salesman imaginable crossed with the most accomplished serial killer you would never want to meet. It was hard to stand there knowing I was being defrauded of an extra $600.00, but pshyco Bjork continued unphased and clearly without remorse.Of course I purchased a comprehensive insurance package when I booked on line all the while thinking I was doing the right thing. Bad Bjork advised me that if I did not want to pay thousands of Icelandic Crowns for window chips or god forbid a paint chip as a result of one of those big “F*** OFF” 4-wheel drive trucks passing me, I needed to buy Budget insurance on top of what I already bought.Now normally I would have said no thanks, but you should have seen the expression on her face. I am not sure where she hid the hatchet under the counter but I am sure I saw her reaching for it before I caved. I said to evil Bjork I feel as though I am being held hostage by your sales pressure tactics. Crazy Bjork just shook her head in silence.
I left the airport with the keys for a VW Polo. We in North America don’t get the Polo at VW dealerships. If you picture a Golf and then slice off a third you have a Polo.
Upon eventually getting behind the wheel I was pleasantly surprised. Good in the snow and comfortable seats. The issues came at the time I wished to sit in it or get out of it. The process was akin to how a Lemans Driver enters his race car during the 24 hour championship. A shoe horn and wedges are useful.
Ok lets move on to Selfoss and the Icelandic countryside. It took me just over an hour to get to my hotel and upon arrival I was greeted by an Estonian girl who was on a work abroad vacation. She checked me in in no time flat. I dumped my bags and walked across the street to grab some water and a couple of snacks. It was about -7 degrees, which I know isn’t that bad but I am not that recently well practiced in dealing with anything resembling northern climes.
I hustled back to my room and was asleep in no time flat. Up with my alarm because if you waited for the sun to rise at 10 a.m. you wouldn’t get much done. I had breakfast at the hotel and packed the car for the Golden Circle Drive. I took some advice from the staff but my intention was to drive where I fancied and at my own pace. I stopped when I felt like it.
I met some lovely Icelandic Ponies. I visited several Geysirs and ended my day at Gullfoss waterfalls. A ton of things to do and see in Vik tomorrow.Cheers!Mark
DUNKIRK for just 20 minutes
I had a chance to drive west quickly the night before last to see as much of Dunkirk as I could. I set the GPS for the Allied Memorial and let google maps do the rest. An hour or so from Lille I was there. The wind was very strong and it was cold. No complaints though as many allied soldiers hit the beaches here and overcame a lot more than poor weather.I only had a short time to spend so I took a couple of photos and got back in the car to travel to Paris and check into my hotel near CDG for next the next phase of my journey to London with a connector to KEF airport in Iceland. Join you again from the Icelandic town of Selfoss..M.
I DON'T NORMALLY DO REVIEWS
'Sir, If you enjoyed your stay please tell your friends”.Today brings our last moments in Cozumel. And with a heavy heart we pushed our luggage along to the lobby to checkout from this Oceanside paradise. The lovely lady at the front desk of the Presidente’ Intercontinental Resort was just another exceptional example of the quality of staff that made our stay here unforgettable. It is truthfully hard to believe that this is the end of our stay here on the Island.
When we arrived here last week we were newbies to the East coast of Mexico and for that matter the Caribbean. We came not knowing what to expect if truth be told. The funk that hung over us due to my Japan trip blunder still weighed heavy in the very humid air.As I eluded to in a blog post last week, when life gives you lemons you have to make lemonade. The Presidente’ Resort helped us make truck loads of lemonade over the last 9 days. It will seem to many that this has become the ravings of the worlds biggest sycophant.
Those that know me will know that I don't actually like many things. I used to work with a guy that regularly mentioned there are 6 billion people on this planet, and that he liked 6 of them. I won’t go that far. I like at least five more than that and there is definitely room to grow given the right set of circumstances.So let's get down to it. The nice lady I spoke of earlier asked if I would tell our friends all about our stay and write a quick review for Trip Advisor. Dear Trip Advisor readers, please consider the Intercontinental Resort on island of Cozumel Mexico if you want an absolutely 5 star vacation. The rooms are beautiful. As your door opens you find immediate respite from the extreme heat by the wonderful and purposeful air conditioning. Our suite had french doors that opened up to a white sandy beach and brilliant turquoise water just beyond. Our rooms were maintained impeccably daily by a very well-trained team. The attention to detail is first class.
Once on the beach the service continues at a high level. The waiters that patrol the beach are athletic and attentive. They know instinctively when to approach for drink orders, replace beach towels and fetch ice. The waiters on the beach were not the only ones that stood by to make our stay so memorable. The gentlemen that worked in the Mexican restaurant soon learned our names and our preferences. The food was authentic and outstanding. I had the pleasure of trying several dishes that are from the Yucatan peninsula that I would have otherwise never enjoyed.The grounds are beautifully maintained by gardening staff. We soon got to recognize the faces of the fellows that pruned the palm trees and harvested the coconuts for the bar staff to use throughout the day. Without fail, you would get a huge smile and a warm greeting as you walked past them at work. The infinity pool and neighbouring beaches are incredible. If snorkelling with hundreds of different species of fish strikes your fancy, you would be in the right place. If you have your dive ticket you are also spoiled for choice with the abundance of companies that service the resort.
If parasailing is your pleasure then you are also in the right spot. I’m sure it ends somewhere but I could go on. To sum up, this place ensured our family had an awesome holiday and the will to return next year if everything comes to plan. This resort and its staff are to be congratulated as they provide a five-star service.
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.