Bill's Travels

[BillB]

Hey there, Keesha. By the time you read this your trip may well be over, but whether it is or not I wish your sister a good result from the chemo she is undergoing. It must be a very stressful time for you, but I’m sure everybody who reads this will be thinking of her and wishing her the best outcome.

Jackie and I seem to be undergoing a series of misfortunes, but their frequency appears to be slowing down a little.

When we drove back from Palm Springs and arrived at our friends’ house Claire was preparing dinner when I went to pour the pre-dinner drinks. I found the whisky bottle contained only enough for one very small drink, so I volunteered to drive to Safeway to pick up another bottle and some Fever Tree tonics for Jackie’s G & T. On returning to the house i got out of the car and in walking to the front door I tripped on the concrete step from the car port and fell flat on my face. It’s amazing how quickly your mind works in emergencies - I started to go down and tried to protect the bottles in the shopping bag, realised I needed to put that hand down to try to break the fall so dropped the bag. There was an almighty crash as it hit the concrete, rapidly followed by a whoosh of outgoing air as I hit the ground soon after.

I lay there, wondering if I had done myself a serious injury or, worse still, had I broken the bottle of whisky. I was still in shock and lay there, winded. There was a storm going on with strong winds and heavy rain but I couldn’t get myself up.

I began to wonder why no one from the house had come down to see what had caused the crash of glass. But no assistance was at hand so I slowly got myself upright and gingerly had a look inside the bag. Miraculously, nothing had been damaged; the contents of the bag were intact. I wish I could say the same about my body.

I think I did myself some kind of bruising to internal organs just below the rib cage on the left side. It was very painful every time I moved and took all of two months before it stopped hurting. My left hand is still painful to this day.

We passed the rest of the time in California visiting our favourite restaurants and saying hello to all the staff who welcome us back.

After the overnight flight back to Heathrow we had the whole day to kill before our flight in the evening to Luxembourg. Luckily we are members of the BA Executive Club so we had the advantage of the lounge, where food, drinks, newspapers, etc., are available free of charge. We had a wander around the shopping area in the terminal, but weren’t seriously shopping.

Our son met us at the airport and drove us home where we unpacked the necessities (toothbrushes and similar items) before driving down to our nearest Italian restaurant for dinner.

Back home we left our suitcases open in the hall and staggered up to bed with jet lag snappingg at our heels.

Next morning, Friday, I woke up just before 5 a.m., realised that I wasn’t going to go back to sleep so got up quietly and went downstairs to read the daily papers online and catch up on our emails. I made myself a coffee and went into the living room with coffee in one hand and my iPad under the other arm. Of course, I completely forgot the suitcases in the hall and promptly walked into one, falling over and spreading coffee up the door and over the floor. I also managed to take a sizeable chunk of skin off my right shin, which was painful in the extreme. The series of thuds as my body, the coffee and the iPad hit the suitcase and then the floor woke Jackie up and she called down asking what the noise had been. I explained I had fallen over the suitcase and then set about mopping up the coffee and dressing my bleeding shin. Then I made myself another coffee, stepping carefully around the case as I went back into the living room.

We had, stupidly, arranged to drive to England to stay with my cousin for a few days just two days after we flew back so we set about washing the odd item of clothing and repacking for our second journey.

We left at 9 a.m. and drove through Belgium to France. On the motorway between Lille and Dunkirk I was driving along the outside lane when a car I was overtaking began to pull out into the exact same piece of road that I was occupying. I braked hard and moved towards the left as far as I could, which was not very far at all. I hit the central wall with an almighty crash, bounced off and the car started slithering about. I got it under control and the road, now being empty, I was able to pull over to the right and stop on the hard shoulder. The other driver was long gone.

When the car came to a halt I looked into the side mirror but couldn’t see any damage to the bodywork. I got out of the car and reluctantly began examining the body panels. I was astonished to see the there was no damage whatsoever. The wheels were well and truly scratched and the tyres bore more scratch marks, but the body and paintwork were totally unmarked. Now for the next big question - had the tracking and wheel alignment been knocked out of alignment?

The only way to tell was to drive it, so we did.

We started off at a low speed to see if there was any vibration or steering wheel shake. There wasn’t a trace of either. Speeded up a bit and everything was still okay. We carried on to the ferry terminal without any further excitement.

At first I couldn’t work out how I had managed to hit the wall without damaging the body, but when I examined one of these walls I saw that they are wider at the bottom than at the top we were fortunate that the shape of the car’s body meant that the wheels hit the base of the wall without the paintwork being touched. Since we have a leasing contract with Mercedes-Benz and we are due to pick up our new car at the beginning of January I had to replace the wheels on the driver’s side but there was nothing else to give our insurers a heart attack.

We passed the three or four days in the UK in subdued mood, did a bit of shopping and taking a fond farewell of my cousin and his lady friend drove back to Dover. We stopped off in Wimereux to break the journey at our favourite hotel before driving back to Luxembourg the next day.

All was quiet for a couple of days when we were struck again. It was about 8 am and I was sitting downstairs checking my emails and reading the newspapers online; Jackie was in the shower and I was waiting for her to finish so I could take my shower. Suddenly my reading was interrupted by a loud and reverberating crash from upstairs. Thinking Jackie had slipped I hurtled upstairs to check that she wasn’t hurt. As i burst into the bathroom Jackie, looking somewhat bemused, said, “The door just fell off the shower.” I thought I had misheard what she said until I looked at the cubicle and saw that one of the doors was inside the shower and leaning against the wall, completely free of its hinges. I asked what every husband would have asked in the circumstances, “What did you do?” She was outraged. “I didn’t do anything,” she protested. “I was standing here by the sink when the door just fell off.”

On examination I could see that the door, which was glued into a plastic tube which swivelled, had fallen out when the glue lost the last of its adhesive powers. The door itself is quite heavy, made of translucent, fairly thick, plastic. It weighs about as much as real glass.

When it came time for me to shower, I hauled the door out of the cubicle itself and leaned it against the radiator, then showered with the remaining door acting as a spray shield so that I could keep as much water as possible within the cubicle.

It took me quite a while to find an adhesive that was strong enough to hold the door in its setting and then to re-mount the door again. I’d already decided that this repair only needed to be temporary as it would be wiser to get rid of the present cubicle and install a new one. We intend to do this after our time in California in January/February.

Just a week after this I was alone in the car, going to see a film that Jackie didn’t want to see (Hacksaw Ridge). At the end of our road we have to cross some open fields and then drive through a stretch of forest. It was almost dark and I was driving along a straight stretch of road when I ran over an object in the road I hadn’t even seen. There was a bang and the right front of the car rose up and came back down. This was strange as I hadn’t seen any object in the road and had no idea what I had hit.

When I examined the spoiler my heart sank. This was going to be expensive. There was a four inch vertical split. But what had I hit? It couldn’t have been wild animal as there was no blood, no fur, and no body lying in the road. There was no object big enough or heavy enough to do such damage lying around. I got my torch and began a search of the undergrowth at the side of the road. There was nothing that, to my eyes, could have done such damage.

The only thing to do next day was to call my insurance company who duly sent me a form to fill in. It’s not easy explaining the inexplicable in French to your insurers, believe me. But since I have comprehensive cover they arranged for the repairs and even fixed me up with a hire car for the duration of the stay in the body shop.

We have now had almost three weeks without another misfortune (fingers crossed). We leave on January 10 for California to take care of Claire and Terry’s house while they are visiting their son, d-i-l and granddaughters in Australia. No more misfortunes, please.

 

[Keesha]

Bill,
My trip to Sydney, Auckland, Seoul and Shanghai was great. Extremely hot in Sydney, and quiet in Auckland. Shanghai was extremely polluted, crowded and noisy. I find the Koreans very polite but was surprised that majority speak very little English which makes communication a bit of a problem. They only eat white bread so breakfast was a problem for me. I am most impressed with Singapore, thanks to the late Lee Kuan Yew who did a wonderful job making it into such delightful city to visit. No problem with communications as everyone speaks English and on top of that the people are civilized. I hope it stays that way for a long time.

Back to all the mishaps you had been having lately. Do take it slow and easy. No point in rushing no matter how busy you are. I assume you are house sitting right now and I hope you are having a relaxed and enjoyable time. Take care and hope to hear more from your travels.

 

[BillB]

So here we are again! Glad to hear that you enjoyed Singapore, Keesha. It’s one of our favourite cities, too, and we’ve visited three times so far and would quite happily return. One time we were there we found ourselves on a street that closes to traffic around 6 p.m. The restaurants that line the street set up their tables in the road and serve their guests right there. It’s a strange sensation to sit at a table having dinner when the table is in the middle of the road. I remember we had hairy crab (which was in season at that time) beautifully cooked and was a taste of Heaven in a basket. Haven’t been to Seoul (or anywhere else in Korea for that matter), but Shanghai must have been experiencing good weather for dispersing pollution during our visit as we found it delightful and were able to take lots of pictures from the Bund across the River Huangpu to the fantastic buildings on the other side where illuminations played across the surfaces of the extraordinary structures facing us.

Please let us know your next travel plans, Keesha. You sound almost as footloose as Jackie and I. Our next trip is to Russia, spending a few days in Moscow before embarking on a cruise through rivers, lakes and canals to St Petersburg, where we will spend another coupe of days before flying home.

Our misfortunes don’t seem to have finished with us yet, though. I had ordered a new car and delivery was scheduled for Wednesday, 4 January. Then I got a message that it wouldn’t be ready until 6 January, which meant that I would have two days fewer to familiarise myself with all the bells and whistles (and I ordered a good few of them) before our departure for California.

Our next surprise was an email from BA saying that our flight from Lux to Heathrow just after 10 a.m. on 11 January had been cancelled and they had rescheduled us to fly out around 5 p.m. All well and good, you may well think, but this flight arrived at Heathrow around 3 hours after our flight to San Francisco had departed. I called up the local office and pointed out that we would have to fly out the day before and spend a night in a hotel. Would they be making a contribution to the costs of our overnight stay? No, they said, that was not possible. I knew that wasn’t true as they had paid for an overnight stay when a previous flight had been cancelled.

We didn’t really want an overnight stay if we could avoid it so we contacted Claire and Terry’s son in California to ask if he could meet us on Thursday instead of Wednesday. He replied that wouldn’t be a problem so we were able to contact BA and arrange for our flights to be booked for the 12th. After that our flights were straightforward.

Our flight over was in an Airbus 380, the gigantic twin decked aircraft which we are both beginning to appreciate. We had seats over the wing, which was a bit disappointing as you don’t get to see much of the ground. However, during the night I lifted up the blind over the window to discover a full moon lined up with the wingtip. It was a magical sight and one that kept pace with our progress, so I had the chance to study the moon’s surface from 38,000 feet.

When we landed Michael met us and drove us to his home where Claire had left her car for us. The bad news was that California had been experience some heavy rains and the quickest route to Aptos was blocked by fallen trees and mudslides. This meant a considerable detour down Highway 101 and added around 40 minutes to the drive.

We unloaded the car, made a pot of tea, unpacked then had a snack before collapsing into bed. Next morning, viewed through bleary, jet-lagged eyes, appeared to be fine. And it stayed that way for a couple of days. Then it began to rain stair-rods, if not Roman columns. It rained hard all day, all night and all the next day. We weren’t too keen on staying indoors for all this time, so we drove down to Monterey to have lunch at one of our favourite restaurants, The Old Fisherman’s Grotto and to greet Linda, our favourite server. This is one of the best seafood restaurants on the coast and Linda greeted us like long lost family. When we were here in September she had been off work with pneumonia so we had missed the chance to say au revoir so it was good to see her again. And the food was as good as always.

I cooked at home for the next couple of days as the bad weather continued, but when we began to get cabin fever we would go out for a drive. Sometimes the weather improved enough for us to do a little exploration on foot. We drove to Carmel-by-the-sea one day and we delighted to find the rain ceasing as we approached the pretty little town. We were able to park and take a short stroll to the Hog’s Breath Inn (formerly owned by Clint Eastwood) for lunch. I can’t resist the Dirty Harry Burger they serve here and I was weak-willed enough to order one. They are delicious: big juicy hamburger steaks, served rare on a Ciabata roll. The add ons, if I can call them that, are served on the side - onion, tomato and pickle, so you can build your own burger. I made sure to eat very low carb for the next 24 hours, though my BS readings were within the good range.

We’d been thinking of an excursion, even though the weather was not promising. We decided on a trip to Mendocino and Fort Bragg, north of San Francisco. Fort Bragg has an area called Glass Beach, which had intrigued me on our last visit some years previously. The origin of this phenomenon is that in the early days of the town’s existence the inhabitants used to dump their trash on the beach, knowing that it would be washed out to sea by the tide. Which is more or less what happened, except that glass bottles and jars stayed where they had been dumped. Over time the bottles broke up and the pieces of glass were subjected to the tidal movement which wore them down until their sharp edges were smoothed out. The result is that several of the beaches there are carpets of multi-coloured glass pieces of all shapes and sizes. The local authorities realised that they had something worth preserving here, so they passed laws protecting these beaches. It’s forbidden, for example, to remove any glass from the shore, but sadly there are people who still do it. On the other hand there are others who seed the beach by distributing pieces of broken glass between the high and low tidelines.

The last time we had been there the wind had been so strong that we couldn’t even get out of the car without the risk of being blown over, let alone being able to climb down to the beach, so I was looking forward to a chance to see Glass Beach for the first time.

On our previous visit we had stayed at a B&B, but one evening had visited a nearby hotel for dinner. The hotel had impressed us, and the food had been really good, so we decided that we’d stay at the hotel as we’d have a good restaurant within a few yards of our room. I went onto the internet and booked a room for three nights and we sat through various downpours until the date to drive north rolled around.

 

[BillB]

The weather wasn’t looking too good on the day of departure, but the rain held off for a while. We drove up Highway 1 towards San Francisco, then crossed the Golden Gate Bridge to stop in a fairly large area where visitors can park, take pictures of the bridge, San Francisco Bay and the city itself, as well as Angel Island and Alcatraz. We spent a short while there, then decided that lunch in nearby Sausalito would make a nice break before hitting the road for the last stretch of the journey.

Sausalito is a pretty little town which spreads up the steep hills that climb up from the beach on the Bay. There are several excellent restaurants there and we chose a place where we could get a light meal to see us on our way.

Fully refreshed we hit Highway 1 again and continued on northwards. Not long after leaving Sausalito we encountered a diversion caused by mudslides and fallen trees in the region of Muir Woods National Park. This turned out to be a diversion of several degrees of magnitude. We even encountered a diversion on the diversion. This added time to our journey, which was increased when I took a wrong turn and drove for several miles before turning back and seeking the correct road to get us back on our route.

We continued on all afternoon, passing Bodega Bay, where Alfred Hitchcock filmed “The Birds” (though we didn’t stop there). It began to rain again, heavily and then lightly, then heavily again as we progressed. The rain ceased, though we saw a lot of flooding, roads underwater, and diversions signalled, though luckily they were off the highway. We plugged on, finally arriving at the Little River Inn around 7 p.m.

The receptionist looked up when we walked in and enquired, “Mr B”? so I assumed we were the last to arrive. Check in was fast and after reserving a table in the restaurant, we were soon ensconced in our room. We unpacked, freshened up and adjourned to the restaurant where our usual aperitifs were ordered (G&T and a whisky without ice) and served while we studied the menu. California, we have learned over the last 15 years or so, serves some of the best seafood in the US. We ordered turbot and shrimp respectively and were impressed when the meals were served. By the time I ordered coffee we were among the last customers in the restaurant as Californians tend to eat earlier than us Europeans. After living in Spain we like to eat later than most Europeans, anyway, but as we were in no hurry to go anywhere or do anything, it didn’t make much difference. The staff don’t seem to mind as, having had two sons who worked in the hotel and catering field, we are inclined to be generous tippers.

When we awoke next morning we found clear skies and sunshine giving us a wonderful view from the terrace outside our room which we watched for quite a while. We took breakfast in a lovely room which looked out over the Pacific, then headed up towards Mendocino. For anyone who has seen the James Dean film “East of Eden”, Mendocino served in the exterior shots as Monterey in the early 1900s. It’s a pretty little town on the coast with white churches and streets which run down to the sea. We wandered around, had a coffee, wandered around some more, found a nice little cafe for lunch and then headed up the coast a little way to the Botanical Gardens.

Even though it was January there were many flowers already in blossom. This is California, after all. Maybe all the rain that had fallen had something to do with it, but the temperatures were still considerably higher than in Europe, so it could have been a combination of both. Whatever the cause, the walk from the entrance on Highway 1 through the gardens to the ocean was fascinating as lots of plants, trees and flowers that are unique to California were opening.

We had had some stormy weather previously and the waves were rolling in and bursting over the rocks, making for a spectacular display.

We drove a little further up the coast, found a place to have a coffee and took a pause. Following which we headed back to the hotel to relax for a while before dinner. As the sun went down over the Pacific we had an unbelievable view from our terrace. We sat there, revelling in the beauty of the scene, until the sun had vanished and the clouds, seconds before a riot of red and orange, turned to lavender, then purple, then black. My camera got the workout of its life.

At dinner, we again sampled the local seafood and once more we found it to be excellent - fresh and cooked to perfection. Amazingly, the restaurant prices are surprisingly reasonable, making the Little River Inn the best value for money on that stretch of the coast.

Then our run of misfortune bit back at us. Jackie, who had a knee replacement 5 years ago, began to suffer pain around the knee and thigh. She had been so happy with the results of the operation for so long that she had more or less forgotten all about it. Now it was so painful that walking became an agony. I could see by her drawn face that she was suffering badly. She emailed her surgeon and got an appointment for shortly after our return, but in the meantime we kept any walking to the minimum and she kept going with painkillers.

The next morning we made our way on Highway 1 towards Fort Bragg and Glass Beach. We went through the somewhat undistinguished township of Fort Bragg, then did a sharp left to take us down to the ocean and the beach. The waves were still rolling in, sending foam high into the air where they smashed into the rocks. Fortunately, because of the configuration of the coastline, the beaches were not being battered by the heavy swell so we parked and got out for a walk. Jackie told me to go on down to the beach to take some pictures while she followed along slowly, staying on the clifftop and avoiding the strain on her leg by scrambling down to the water’s edge.

Indeed, the glass fragments were everywhere, glittering in the sunlight in whichever direction you looked. So many had been worn down by the erosion of the sea that they had taken on the shape of the stones in the shingle around them so that at first glance you would think they were coloured pebbles. I spent a while taking every kind of shot imaginable - panoramas, closeups, macro shots - while Jackie took in the view from the clifftop and concentrated on taking shots of the spray being thrown up by the swell.

There was a little private museum nearby about the beaches and the glass found there which we visited. Interesting exhibits (collected from other beaches around the world) showed various colours of glass as well as the weathering and polishing which the waves cause were explained, as well as the sources of some of the exhibits - glass manufacturers, country of manufacture, and other details.

We had a coffee at a little cafe and then drove back to the hotel. I left Jackie to rest her leg while I went out and took some photos of the area around the hotel, as well as the beaches. I got some great shots again of the ocean as the sun went down. Around 7 p.m. we made our way to the restaurant and studied the menu while sipping our pre-dinner drinks. Once again the food was superb and we spent time chatting with the servers once the rush was over and they had the time. You can learn a lot about the surrounding area and local sights to visit from the local people and the servers are frequently as curious about us as we are about their locality and that serves as a good basis for communication.

Next day it was time to begin our drive south, back to Aptos and Monterey Bay. We’d decided not to drive back on Highway 1 as it was a time-consuming journey. We made, instead for Highway 101, much less picturesque but shorter and quicker by far.

 

[Keesha]

Bill, it was wonderful to read your adventures once again and I always look forward to find out what you and Jackie are up to. By the way, how is Jackie doing? I hope she was able to enjoy the balance of the holiday in San Francisco. We were there many years ago and always enjoyed the Fisherman's Wharf and of course Sausalito. Do continue and tell us about your adventures around the world. Love hearing from you. Bye.

 

[BillB]

Thank you Keesha for your lovely compliments. I’ll do my best not to be a disappointment. I'll fill you in on developments concerning Jackie's knee soon. Thanks for your concern.

A strange thing happened as we headed for Highway 101. Early in the morning as it was (around 9 a.m.) - I started to feel really drowsy, so much so that I had to pull over and ask Jackie if she would mind driving for a while. She was a bit nervous as she had never driven in the States before, and we had been visiting the States at least once a year since 2003, but she gamely got into the driver’s seat while I moved over to hers and we set off. I closed my eyes hoping a little doze might see off the drowsiness, but I remained aware of what was going on. Jackie was taking it easy as it was unfamiliar territory for her, but she’s a game girl and plugged on at a tempo that was comfortable for her. After about half an hour I began to feel much more alert, while Jackie was muttering about all the straight roads I had driven and she had to get the stretch that was more like an Alpine zig zag.

Shortly after that we began to pick up the signs for Highway101 and when we were almost there she pulled over and asked me to drive as she had never driven on an American freeway. Feeling not in the least bit drowsy any more I changed seats again and took the wheel. We discussed the possible reasons for feeling so drowsy after a good night’s sleep.

We took the slip road onto the freeway and tootled along for a while when Jackie suddenly said, “Which pills did you take when you woke up with that headache this morning?” I thought about that for a moment and told her it was the Tylenol. She asked which Tylenol it had been. I hadn’t the faintest idea which ones they had been, just that they had been in the bathroom. “The ones in the bathroom had been Tylenol PM,” she told me. “So?” I queried. “They are the ones meant to be taken at bedtime, to kill the pain and help you to sleep.” I pulled a face. Would you believe that I had taken a pain killer that was a soporific as well? I felt quite subdued the rest of the journey back to Aptos - but not drowsy!

The weather stayed good for the next couple of days, and then the rain began to fall again. We spent our days visiting shopping malls and our favourite restaurants. The Old Fisherman’s Grotto in Monterey, Tarpy’s Roadhouse, just outside Monterey, being the principal beneficiaries of our credit cards.

Normally, we never visit California without spending a day at San Juan Bautista, which has a couple of good secondhand book shops where I always find some interesting show business biographies, and a great Mexican restaurant called Los Jardines de Juan (Juan’s gardens if you don’t speak Spanish), but the weather militated against it. It was difficult to keep up with the information on road closures, mud slides and fallen trees.

We had a lovely evening with neighbours Ted and Susan who invited us over for dinner. They have travelled extensively in Europe so we had a few comparisons to discuss. Dinner was pretty good, as well.

Another day we had an appointment in Los Gatos to meet up with Canadian friends from Luxembourg, who were visiting their daughter who lives in Santa Cruz. We had reserved a table in a restaurant called The Wine Cellar where we would meet up with them and enjoy a long, leisurely lunch.

We left Aptos early as our route took us up Highway 17, normally notorious for holdups, but with the weather we had been experiencing we decided that it would be better not to take chances. The result was that we encountered very little traffic and arrived in Los Gatos with 2 hours to spare. It was raining moderately but we managed to find a parking space in an underground car park close to the restaurant.

Luckily there are some very nice shops there, so we browsed and spent most of the intervening time in a kitchen and cookery store called Sur la Table. I bought a couple of items, including a ceramic chef’s knife which is hellishly sharp and doesn’t need to be sharpened, as well as a curious item into which you slip your corn tortillas and then set it on high in the microwave for 20 seconds. They come out warm and ready to eat. I’ve used it a couple of times and it’s very efficient.

At the appointed hour we claimed our table in the restaurant and ordered our aperitifs while we waited for our friends. When they arrived just a few minutes after us we had a lovely reunion and caught up on all the news.

When it came time to say goodbye we bade them a fond farewell and then headed down Highway 17. After about fifteen minutes driving the traffic began to get slower and slower until finally we came to a halt. We sat there wondering what the problem was and then I realised that there was no traffic on the other side of the freeway. Curious, but the only explanation could be that both sides were blocked ahead of us, but how far ahead was the magic question that nobody could answer.

We sat and waited, and after a while a car on the other side went by. Just the one, but it gave us a little hope. Then a couple of cars went by followed a little later by a regular convoy of vehicles. Then, to our delight, we could see traffic on our side of the road up ahead beginning to move. We stuttered along for a while, then began to pick up speed. Soon we came to an area where lots of twigs and small branches were lying on the central reservation while very large logs were spread along the hard shoulder on each side.

We carried on down to the coast without further delays and were back in Aptos in short order. Talking with neighbours we heard the story of what had happened. It seems that the heavy rain had undercut a large tree’s roots and it promptly collapsed over both the northbound and southbound sides of the road. A group of residents living nearby, luckily for us, showed great initiative. On hearing the noise of the falling tree they had turned out in force with chainsaws and cut the tree into pieces, which they used their SUV’s to pull to the side of the road. Had they not acted so promptly we could have been sitting there for hours, waiting for the rescue services to turn up. And they had been severely overworked for the previous weeks. I loved that idea of a community all working together to open the road and get the traffic moving again. It was a pity we didn’t get the chance to thank them all in person.

 

[BillB]

The weather continued mixed for the next few weeks - heavy rain for a day or two followed by a couple of fine days. Soon the time approached for us to drive to San Francisco airport to pick up Claire and Terry after their flight home from Australia. Awkwardly, their flight was due in at around 9 o’clock in the morning and we began to worry about road closures or mudslides on Highway 1 which would leave them in arrivals wondering what had happened to us. Jackie suggested we could drive up the night before and spend the night in a hotel near the airport so there would be no worries about holdups.

We went onto the internet to look for possible hotels, only to realise that C and T had chosen the day following Valentine’s Day to return. As we went from hotel to hotel we discovered that hotels double their rates on that day because it’s traditional for couples to celebrate by checking into a decent hotel and have a cosy dinner for two. The prices had skyrocketed, with most of them charging upwards of $500 for a double room.

We searched and searched, finally settling on a hotel near the airport whose rates seemed reasonable, while the hotel itself appeared modern and clean. Trip Advisor also noted that it had a restaurant. We booked a room while they had vacancies. It also said that breakfast was included.

On Valentine’s Day we drove up to the city on the bay, discovering that there were no holdups whatsoever and the journey as uneventful as you can get. We had intended to visit the Presidio, an interesting area just alongside the Golden Gate Bridge, but I managed to miss the exit and found myself heading across the bridge.

“Why don’t we make the most of my mistake?” I suggested. “We can have lunch in Sausalito, have a stroll around and make our way to the hotel and check in around 4.” Jackie went along with that so we turned off Highway 1, left the car in the car park we traditionally use and sought a decent eatery.

As we made our way along the road adjoining the beach we came to a restaurant where we had eaten before called Scoma’s. It looked inviting - an elegantly shaped building painted pale blue and white, so it didn’t take us long to decide. We were greeted very cordially and ushered to a table where we could sit while they prepared our table. Soon, the lady came back and showed us to our table - without doubt the best table in the restaurant. We sat down and gazed out at San Francisco Bay laid out before us. To the right was the city itself, with its distinctive buildings: the Coit Tower, the Bank of America’s pyramidal structure and all the others that make up the city’s skyline. Running across the horizon was the Oakland Bay Bridge, a marvel of civil engineering that stretches to an island in the bay, transforms itself into a highway, and then becomes a bridge again to reach the northern side of the bay. In front of it sits Alcatraz, the island that housed one of the most notorious prisons in the US which was closed down in the 1960s. It can still be toured by visitors who take the boat from Fisherman’s Wharf in SF.

To our left was Angel Island, once the port where Asian immigrants were housed while their bona fides were checked. Exceptionally, the sun was shining from a cloudless sky, lighting up the entire scene. And to make it a perfect lunch, the seafood we chose was out of this world. The Californian wine we ordered to accompany it matched the meal’s excellence. Not everything was a misfortune, we thought.

Feeling at peace with the world we drifted back to our car and set the GPS to take us to our hotel, La Quinta, close to the airport.

When we were checking in we asked the receptionist if we needed to reserve a table in the restaurant. She looked at us blankly for a moment before telling us that they didn’t have a restaurant. We assured her that Trip Advisor says they have a restaurant. She indicated a building beyond the car park. “Perhaps they mean that,” she suggested. It was Denny’s, we noted, a fast food chain of no great distinction. Are there any decent restaurants in the vicinity, we asked hopefully. “Oh yes,” she reassured us. “If you turn right outside the hotel, then turn right again you’ll come to some traffic lights. Turn left there and you’ll find all kinds of restaurants. You’re sure to find something you’ll like there.” With hope in our hearts we ascended to our room to relax for a while before heading out for an evening of culinary excess around 8 p.m.

After a good scrub each we set out to find the street of a thousand tastes we had been promised. On the way we traversed an underpass, the kind that people are always getting mugged in on TV thrillers. Nobody bothered us. We came to the traffic lights, crossed the road and made our way along the road our receptionist had recommended. The first couple of places were not too promising - a Thai restaurant with aluminium tables and chairs that looked distinctly temporary. We moved on, crossed the road and saw a Middle Eastern restaurant, but again it didn’t look too inviting, even though we both love the cuisine of that part of the world.

In the States, ethnic restaurants frequently try to get by without a license to sell alcoholic drinks. Now as far as I’m concerned you can be as TT as you like, but just don’t expect me to join you in your persuasion. When I sit down for dinner I like an aperitif before the meal and a glass of wine to accompany it. I am definitely not going to drink Coke, Pepsi or any other chemical concoctions. We carried on.

The next restaurant was Italian, and despite staring through the window for several minutes, we couldn’t see a bar. Move on.

The restaurant after that was another Italian but this place was jumping. We could see a well-stocked bar against the far wall and in between was a sea of tables at which people were eating, drinking and generally have a fine old time. As soon as we entered we were greeted, led to just about the last empty table, given menus and our drinks orders taken. It was a lovely place with a warm atmosphere and a good natured air about it. I ordered veal escalopes and Jackie ordered a pasta dish - and a glass of local wine to accompany it.

We had a really great evening, good food, good wine, good service, great atmosphere. It seemed a shame to pay the bill and leave.

On the way back to the hotel we entered the underpass again. This time a cyclist came towards us. I felt Jackie hesitate but I told her it would be alright. As the cyclist approached he wished us a cheery “Good evening.” We wished him the same and we all went on our ways. “I think we’ve been watching too much TV,” I remarked to Jackie.

Now let me warn you. If you’re a diabetic then avoid hotels in the States that offer “free breakfast”. Especially if the hotel doesn’t have a restaurant. Breakfast usually consists of bread, a toaster, bagels, jams and jellies, doughnuts, high sugar fruit juices, and tea (usually Lipton’s teabags, as weak as tap water) and coffee. Your BS is guaranteed to soar to stratospheric heights within a very short time after breakfast. There are usually some other items, all packaged, and again as high carb as you can get

I picked my way through this minefield carefully and left the breakfast room unsatisfied. Fortunately, our dinner of the evening before ensured that we could wait a while before we really began to feel hungry.

We checked the status of our friends’ flight before checking out and, finding it on schedule, drove the short distance to the airport.

They came through shortly after landing and we took the road to Aptos, stopping off partway for a coffee and for something low carb to make up for the tiny breakfast I had eaten.

We dropped them off at their house before taking off for the supermarket to pick up the ingredients for our evening meal. I had decided to cook beef bourguignon for dinner that evening so that it could be simmering away gently all afternoon while Claire and Terry unpacked, threw any laundry they had into the washing machine and relaxed.

 

[BillB]

The last week of our stay went by quickly, with plenty of rain. We went down to Monterey to have lunch and say farewell to our favourite server. We had lunch, which was fine, but our server had phoned in to say that whichever way she tried to turn, the roads were invariably blocked by either fallen trees or mud slides. This weather was playing havoc with the roads, it being the heaviest rainfalls they had seen in many years. On the good side, their reservoirs were full to overflowing so that made up for their years of drought.

The morning arrived for Claire to drive us to San Francisco so we left early and stopped off in a suburb of the big city for lunch in an Indian restaurant, which turned out to be excellent. After our meal we took a stroll together around the area and found it to be as multinational as you’re ever likely to see. There were stores and restaurants from so many corners of the world - even the owner of the Indian restaurant where we had lunch was Nepali.

However, the time to check in was fast approaching so we had to leave the delights of that international little area and head for the airport. We made our usual farewells to Claire, with promises all round to keep in touch via Facetime as we have all migrated to Apple computers and iPads. We were curious to see photos of the cat that she will be adopting soon so we made her promise to send us some pix as soon as she could. (She has since done so, and the kitty looks like the kind that we love looking after when Claire and Terry go off to see family members in far flung climes.

Our flight was on time at both ends, and we were flying a Boeing Dreamliner. We had booked on the wrong flight for the Airbus 380, which departs SF later in the evening. But the Dreamliner is comfortable and the food is good. The seats recline to a flat bed and the duvets keep you nice and toasty once you settle down.

We arrived at Heathrow around 9 a.m. and made our way to the lounge in Terminal 3 where we had quite a long time to kill before our flight around 6. The lounges are great places to kill time between flights as there is free food, free newspapers, free drinks and comfortable chairs and couches.

Our son met us at Luxembourg and drove us home, cutting across rural roads until we came to a small 4 vehicle traffic jam in the forest near our home. One of the cars in front did a U-turn and stopped alongside to tell our son that a tree had fallen across the road and it was impassable. Shades of California - we thought we had left all that behind us, but it was following us.

We did a U-turn, leaving the bus ahead of us still sitting there wondering what to do, and made it back home within a short time, having detoured around the blocked road.

After unpacking we went out for a meal at a local Italian restaurant and were joined by Older Son and the new lady in his life. When I say “new” I’m exaggerating somewhat as they have been an item for a couple of years now and have named the day for their wedding. We were delighted as she has made such a difference in our son who had seemed subdued and not the good natured person he had been, since the death of his wife in 2013. We get on with her so well that we will attend the wedding in May with warm feelings for her and wishes for a long and successful marriage.

The misfortunes that have been dogging us still continue. When we were opening the mail that had accumulated since our departure I found a missive from the insurance company that has insured both of our lives since the late 70’s. My life insurance policy expires on my 80th birthday in April. I couldn’t believe what I had read so I read the whole thing through again. It was still the same. From my birthday my life was no longer insured. Should I kick the bucket Jackie wouldn’t receive a penny. What a dilemma to find yourself in at my age. I had less than 6 weeks to go and it’s impossible to find life insurance at this age unless you can afford to pay around a million Euros a month - and if you can do that you don’t need life insurance.

I called the insurance company and asked if the policy could be extended. No, came the unsympathetic answer. It’s in the policy. Well, I’m guilty there, didn’t read the policy, but who reads their insurance policy all the way through? After all, this group insurance policy had been negotiated by the Social Committee of my employer and union representatives, so they’re bound to be looking out for our interests, aren’t they? Nope. They negotiated for the staff a policy that is virtually the same as a whole of life policy - the kind that Parkinson pushes on afternoon TV - the kind where your premiums continue to rise, even after you retire. I bet old Parky takes better care of his own money than he does ours.

So the upshot is that we will have to travel a little less and save a little more. Once the shock wore off and I began to look at the situation more calmly, I realised that the situation wasn’t quite as bad as we had imagined. The mortgage has long been paid off, and should I shuffle off first, Jackie will continue to receive her own pension that she paid in for during her working life here, and she will also receive a good percentage of my pension - she won’t be selling matches outside the railway station, but will be comfortable and able to have a nice quality of life.

But then more misfortune - our son and his fiancee had gone off on holiday and we had agreed to pass by every couple of days and take in the post. Just over a week after they left we received a phone call from him asking if we could go down to his house and see the cleaning lady, who had called him to say that there appeared to be a break-in.

We hurtled down there and were saddened to see the mess the thieves had left. They had lifted up the roller blinds over the door to the terrace, smashed the window to get in, and then ransacked the place. We had a check around but couldn’t specify what had been stolen as there was so much mess.

They had a safe in the basement which the thieves had tried to force open but had failed to do so. On the upper floors two expensive watches had been stolen, but a top end digital camera had been left behind. Strangely, one bar of soap had been stolen out of a box of 4, our son’s fiancee realised that 3 pairs of knickers had been stolen, and the thieves had been swigging from a bottle of vodka which they left half empty.

When the police arrived they took details from us but said they needed a list of stolen items when our son got back. After they left we waited for the CSI man to arrive who told us that he had found good DNA on the vodka bottle, but they wouldn’t stand much chance of catching the thieves unless they had been previously arrested and a DNA sample taken.

Our son and his fiancee arrived back home at 2 am after driving non-stop from the Atlantic coast of France. All in all it could have been worse - there was a lot of mess where the thieves had just thrown the contents of cupboards onto the floor, but they had not found other expensive items, or it may have been that they didn’t realise the value.

The insurance process is now being pursued, the house has been cleared up, the front door lock has been replaced (the keys were stolen) and the broken glass door has been boarded up.

 

[BillB]

Jackie’s appointment with the surgeon who had operated on her knee came up with some surprises. She was convinced that the pain, which seemed to move up and down her leg from day to day turns out to be nothing to do with her knee. The surgeon looked at her X-rays and told her that her knee was perfect, it is her hip that’s causing the problem. She was astonished at the news, as she had never experienced pain in the hip. However, he pointed out the hip joint on the right hand side had lost most of the cartilage, and the pain was radiating from the hip to the knee and then downwards even more..

The good news is that this can be taken care of by replacing the joint. He also assured her that it wouldn’t be nearly as painful as the knee replacement had been. The operation is scheduled for the beginning of August so that most people are on holiday and she can probably get a private room as there is little call for them at the height of summer.

Some more ood news is that Older Son is getting married this month. He has found a great woman with whom we get on really well and they will be tying the knot soon. Younger Son is flying in from Palm Springs with his wife and will be staying with his brother, while my cousin and his partner are driving over and staying with us. Looks like it’s going to be a hectic period.

We’ve spent a while getting all the information together for our application for Russian passports. We filled the forms in online, added all the necessary dates and times, as well as our schedule while in Russia and duly presented them at the Russian consulate. We returned a week later to pick up our passports with the very ornate visa occupying a full page. We are now all set to go.

For my 80th birthday we decided to drive up to Boulogne to spend a couple of nights at our favourite hotel, with dinner each evening. The restaurant has just been awarded a Michelin star so we were looking forward to the trip.

The hotel owners and staff have knocked themselves out in their pursuit of the Michelin accolade over the years. The hotel has been renovated to a high standard, while the restaurant has been transformed into an area that almost bowls you over on first sight. The sea-facing side has windows along the whole length, and to sit eating a magnificent meal as the sunset turns the whole sky orange while being reflected in the Channel’s surface is a treat not to be missed.

The first night we took a set menu with wine and were most impressed. The flavours, mostly seafood, were so subtle that they seemed to come alive on your tongue. The temptation is to make the meal last as long as possible, making oysters slide into the mouth with their accompaniments and leaving a pleasing taste, while the flavour of the sea from the oysters pops into your mouth afterwards. Instead of dessert I always take the cheese, and they have as good a selection as I’ve found anywhere. Then I finished up with a malt whisky and a coffee.

Next morning (my 80th birthday) we set off without a destination in mind. Jackie has problems walking any kind of distance (this is going to be fixed in August, so she’s hoping that she’ll be back to her usual mobility). We stopped off at the tourist office in Wimereux and talked to one of the ladies there who suggested that we might enjoy a visit to Desvres where they have a ceramics museum, celebrating their historic product. We set off, taking roundabout route to see more of the countryside, and eventually arrived in Desvres, a town larger than we imagined. We parked in the main square and had a look around before stopping for a coffee in one of those typically French cafes that you can find all over the country. From there we drove to the ceramics museum which took some finding as posters for the candidates had been plastered across the sign that read “MUSEUM DES CERAMIQUES”. When we did eventually suss out what the large building was we had a look and discovered the approach was down a steep slope. Jackie balked at that as the walk back might have been just too painful, and as no cars were allowed it might well have ruined the day for her.

We studied the map for a while and then decided to see what the Fortress of Mimoyecques consisted of. This was a vast series of tunnels built to house the V3 weapon. A few years ago we had driven to Peenemunde to see the enormous area where the V1 and V2 weapons were built, test flown and launched. I was curious because I remembered the impact that the V1s and V2s had had in the latter part of WW2. I knew there had been a V3 weapon in development, but no idea of what it consisted. The V2 was pretty evil as it travelled faster than sound so you never heard it coming until after it had detonated. And as it carried a ton of high explosive their detonations were pretty deadly and you didn’t get a chance to dive for the air raid shelter.

The fortress is off the beaten track and we headed across the fields on small country roads. I almost missed the turning off the road onto the little track that leads to the installation. We found a small parking area adjacent to a low building which housed the ticket office, information office and a small bookshop. Two young people manned the operation, sold us tickets (which were reasonable, I remember) and gave us some material on the purpose of this construction and a map.

I soon found out what the V3 was - an enormous supergun designed to bombard London from the Pas de Calais at a rate of 300 rounds an hour. They would be mounted in rows of 5 so that one row would be able to hit London with 1500 shells an hour. And a good few rows were planned.

The barrel of each gun would be 130 metres (430 ft) long so it would have to be supported along its entire length, otherwise it would bend under its own weight. It was impossible to fire a shell that would reach London with a single charge, as the size of the charge wore out the barrels too quickly. So each barrel had extra charges installed along its length, so that as the projectile passed, each charge fired and accelerated the shell.

This weapon could have wreaked havoc on London with a constant bombardment if it had come into full-scale action. However, the guns, needing support, were installed in shafts that were dug at precise angles so that the earth itself supported each barrel.

It was by good fortune and a touch of genius that London was spared. The RAF sent up aircraft to photograph the area in preparation for the D-Day landings, and a sharp-eyed analyst noticed one of the photos showed some unusual activity, including the building of a railway line that entered a tunnel but did not emerge anywhere visible. The area was subjected to a heavy bombing campaign, but the bombs in use couldn’t reach the tunnels deep underground.

Then came the touch of genius. Barnes Wallis, inventor of the bouncing bomb of Dambusters fame, designed a bomb that was named Tallboy. It was pretty big, as the name suggests, but it’s primary purpose was to penetrate deep underground before detonating, sending powerful shocks through the ground, virtually recreating the effects of an earthquake.

The attack, by 617 Squadron (the Dambusters) using Tallboy bombs was highly effective. In the tunnels themselves, present-day visitors can see areas where the Tallboys penetrated, making large areas of tunnel unusable and largely blocked by rubble.

After that, the V3 was no longer a threat, though a smaller version was built just southeast of Trier and was used to bombard Luxembourg. Strangely enough, I have lived in Luxembourg since 1972 and had never heard of this.

After our visit we made our way back towards Wimereux, stopping off at the outlets near Calais for a sandwich and for Jackie to buy a couple of items.

For dinner that evening we took the full menu (come on, how many people make it to 80, still active and with their wits about them?). It was absolutely superb, and once again we sat in front of the window, watching the sun slide down the sky and the stars come into view. Before the coffee was served the restaurant staff brought along a plate with a parchment laid across (made out of marzipan) with best wishes for my birthday iced on it, with the whole topped by a candle. I was a happy bunny when I wended my way to our room before collapsing into bed.

We have a busy time between our return and our departure for Moscow. Older son, who lost his wife to a brain tumour 4 years ago, is getting married in May, younger son and his wife are arriving from California, and my cousin Mark and his lovely lady Suzanne are coming to stay with us for the wedding. On top of that we have to pack for Moscow. Hope misfortune has finished with us.

 

[BillB]

I just noticed that a chunk of text had been omitted in the recent California segment. I don't know how I managed leave it out but I have now corrected it and it makes sense now. Anybody who wants to read the full text should go to the entry that has the number #228 at the bottom and the start reading from the top.
Sorry about that.

 

[BillB]

Misfortunes haven’t given up on us yet. The day after our son’s wedding I had made reservations for a jazz and blues cruise on the Moselle with dinner for the Saturday night. There were eight of us: elder son and his new wife, younger son and his wife, my cousin Mark and his lady, Suzanne, and, naturally, Jackie and myself.

I had made the online bookings several months in advance, paid the total cost (I was pushing the boat out for this one), received a confirmation email, and the tickets. We turned up at the quayside where the ship docks, only to find that we were not on the passenger list. General consternation. Luckily I had brought all the relevant documentation, including proof that all the costs had been paid several months previously.

This was a setback, I admit, but the cruise manager acted promptly. He checked with the chef that he could provide 8 more dinners. The chef said yes. He arranged for a table for eight to be set up in the dining room and we were duly seated and presented with 2 complimentary bottles of champagne.

After that everything went well, the dinner was first class and the music good. We had a good time together while the boat cruised the Moselle and the sun set colourfully, turning the clouds a delicate shade of lavender. Suzanne was in raptures at the splendours of the Moselle. We disembarked around midnight and reached home shortly afterwards.

On Monday Jackie and I were packing for our departure on the Moscow to St Petersburg river cruise while Mark and Suzanne, who were staying with us, went out to view the Roman sites which dot our little village.

Later in the afternoon we drove them to the airport for their return home. Jackie and I finished our packing and went out for dinner. We had a pretty tight schedule as the BA flight to Heathrow did not coordinate with the flight to Moscow on Wednesday, so we took the midmorning flight from Lux on Tuesday and had made a reservation at the Sofitel hotel at Terminal 5 so we could make the flight to Moscow next morning.

There was a bit of confusion at the BA desk over whether we could check in our bags all the way to Moscow the next day. One young lady said we could if it was within a 24 hour window. At Heathrow they said it was not possible. To avoid getting into arguments over who said what and when, we picked up our bags and put them in the left luggage office at Terminal 5. That conveniently left us with an overnight bag which we had packed with a view to having our bigger cases locked away in suitcase Valhalla.

So we checked into the Sofitel and gratefully accepted the complimentary upgrade they offered as regular Accor Hotels clients. We made a reservation for dinner in their restaurant called Vivre, then relaxed for a while in our room before going down for a light snack in their Tea Room to replace the lunch we had missed.

Dinner was a great meal - we both chose the fish dish - and we retired for the night shortly afterwards. We had had our usual aperitifs of gin and tonic for Jackie, a whisky for me and a glass of wine with the meal. Luckily, we weren’t driving that evening.

Next day the flight to Moscow was on time and only lasted 4 hours but still counted as a long haul flight for the air miles harvest. We touched down in mid afternoon and in no time flat we had taxied to the stand, the jetway was extended to our aircraft (an Airbus A320) and we all prepared to disembark and set foot in Russia - the first time for us.

We were sitting in row 2 so we were among the first off the plane and began the walk to immigration. About halfway there Jackie asked me for the passports. I told her she had them. She looked at me in amazement and said she didn’t. I searched my pockets without success. She searched her pockets, then her handbag, then the carry-on bag. No passports. You can’t board the aircraft without showing passport and boarding card, so we definitely had them when we got on the plane.This was ominous. If there’s one place you don’t want to arrive without passports, it’s Russia.

I left Jackie with the overnight bag and made a dash back to the plane. A policeman standing at the door said I couldn’t get back on the plane, but fortunately the 2nd officer and the flight attendant were just inside the doorway and when I said we’d lost our passports they went into action. Even the policeman got onto the plane to help in the search so I climbed aboard behind him. The flight attendant had a torch which he was using to search under the seats around us. The 2nd officer was searching the locker where our coats had been hung. The Russian policeman was lifting himself up to eyeball the overhead lockers. None of us had any success.

The only thing left to do was to go back to Jackie and then throw ourselves on the mercy of Russian immigration officials. We made our way along the large, empty corridor until we reached the area where several hundred people were standing in line to be checked. We went straight for an official who appeared to be overseeing the process. Jackie explained to him that we had lost our passports between the plane and this point. He appeared to be sympathetic, asked for our names, told us to wait a moment and went off. We stood there, wondering what the punishment was for entering Russia without a passport. I took comfort from the fact that the Gulag camps had been closed down.

Presently, our official came back and told us that our passports had been found and handed in. They were in a different office so he went off once again to retrieve them. He was back quickly with two EU passports in his hand. He smilingly looked at the picture in each one and then handed them over.

Not sure which way to go we looked around at the long lines of people. There was a separate window at one side and he told us to wait there. When the officer finished with the person he was processing he waved us over and did his thing with our passports. Then, to our vast relief, he stamped them and gave them back. There was a silver lining to all this - we had bypassed the long lines of waiting people.

Our next stop was the baggage carousel where my bag came up pretty quickly, swiftly followed by our small bag. We waited and waited but there was no sign of Jackie’s case. It’s not easy to overlook as it’s bright pink and you would see it on a dark night in a coal hole. Telling Jackie to stay put I went for a brisk walk around the carousel. At the far end I found it. Somebody had taken it off the carousel and stood it to one side. I have no idea to this day why this was done; however, I took a quick check to make sure I had the right bag and wheeled it back to where Jackie was waiting. Happy to be reunited with our passports and our luggage we headed for the exit to look for the representative of Viking River Cruises.

We found her easily enough, standing with a large sign bearing our names. We identified ourselves and within a very short time we were in a limo and on our way into Moscow and our hotel, the Radisson Royal. Moscow traffic is pretty dense most of the time so it was slow going, but we finally arrived just over an hour later.

Our luggage was loaded onto one of those trolleys popular in hotels with a pole at each corner and we were led to Reception, accompanied by a bell boy pushing our bags on the trolley. We were quickly checked in and assured our bag would be in our room within a couple of minutes.

We made our way to our room on the 22nd floor and sat down, feeling somewhat drained. We freshened up and waited for our bags. And waited. And waited. Finally I went down to Reception, the last place I had seen them.

They weren’t there, so I went along to the entrance, thinking they were there for some reason. Maybe they’ve been delivered already and we’ve crossed paths, I thought, and returned to our room. No bags.

To top off a perfect day, the hotel had lost our cases!

 

[BillB]

By this time we felt we needed a drink and thought we’d go to the bar before having something to eat. Before we left our room, however, Jackie called Reception again and told them that our bags still hadn’t arrived and it was now getting on for two hours after we checked in. “Don’t worry, Madam,” the receptionist assured her. “We will find your bags.” We looked at each other. This sounded ominous. So we went down for our well-earned drink. The hotel was palatial and we had several choices of bars and restaurants, but we made our way to the hotel’s Coffee Shop, ordered our drinks and went through the menu for a light meal. We just weren’t very hungry, considering that we’d had lunch on the plane and the emotional upset of thinking that our passports were lost.

When we returned to our room we found our bags had been delivered in our absence. It seems they’d been delivered to the wrong room. Luckily for us the room was unoccupied so the bags just sat, unloved, until the bell boy came back and delivered them to the correct room.

Next morning, after an excellently varied breakfast, we found the Viking representative in the lobby to see what optional tours around Moscow were available.

We had one full day and most of the next on our own, as we had chosen to take the pre-cruise extension. The river cruise ships are not allowed into Moscow or St Petersburg so they’re forced to moor a fair way out of town, which means a longish drive in the heavy traffic. We opted for the extension so we would have more time in Moscow than the cruise alone allowed..

Our choice of tours was restricted by Jackie’s mobility. The pain that afflicts her in the right leg can come on with no warning so we reluctantly chose one of the tours that involved less walking - a tour of the Moscow subway. Another bit of good news is that she is scheduled for an operation for a new hip in August.

Now for those not familiar with the Metro in the Russian capital this may seem a hilariously ridiculous way to spend several hours, but I’ve learned over the years that it’s the most spectacular metro system in the world. So after paying the fee we joined the lady who would conduct us around and explain the system and its decorative splendours

Our group took a regular bus under the guidance of our tour leader as Russian is one of those languages like Chinese or Thai that render Western European effectively illiterate. You can stare at a sign in Russian, which uses the Cyrillic script, for months on end, and you’d still be none the wiser. After we got off the bus we headed for a nearby Metro station where we all went through a turnstile on the group ticket in the possession of our tour leader.

We descended on an enormously deep escalator and found ourselves in an amazing area. It was a tunnel, about 200 yards long, with archways leading off on both sides. These take the traveller onto the platform for the train. This short tunnel had ornate chandeliers, very beautifully designed. On the walls were mosaics depicting rural life in Russian provinces. Again, these were beautiful but it was the scenes of farmers and labourers on the land that were so fascinating. Dressed in traditional clothing the workers were cutting corn, herding sheep, goats and cattle, or picking fruit. We let several trains come in and leave while we studied these works before boarding another. We travelled on a couple of stops and then all descended to the platform again. This station had bronze statues representing those who fought in World War II. There were airmen in flying overalls, soldiers bearing rifles and machine guns, tank drivers, partisans. Russia, when it was the Soviet Union, suffered immensely under the Nazi onslaught until they were able to gear up their weapon manufacturing industry and train the large number of troops they needed.

We carried on, stopping at a number of stations and getting out to view the friezes, mosaics, paintings, statues and chandeliers which turned mundane subway stations into amazingly beautiful environments.

Another aspect of life in Russia that took me by surprise was the people. I’m not sure what I expected, but until 1992 I had lived with images of a communist dictatorship that suppressed its people and couldn’t even manage to feed its citizens. Were we going to find them dour, humourless people? On the contrary - they smiled at us when they heard us speaking English, greeted us in our mother tongue and seemed immensely good natured. Invariably, whether on a bus or the Metro, someone would get up from their seat and offer it to Jackie or myself. They impressed us with their courtesy, their openness and their friendliness.

We were back in our hotel around 2 p.m. and had a salad in the Coffee Shop. Normally, I only take one drink a day and that’s the one before dinner, but I broke my rule and had a whisky before ordering lunch. And did it taste good!

We relaxed for a while after lunch, then headed out for a walk around the district. We stopped off at a small supermarket and bought some bottles of water to see us through the rest of our stay in the hotel.

I had noticed that one of the hotel’s restaurants specialised in Persian food, so I suggested to Jackie that we should give it a try. She was agreeable so that was where we ate that evening. We chatted with our waiter about the dishes on offer and finally ordered kebabs - not the kind that come wrapped in pita bread, but marinated chicken and lamb pieces which were grilled on skewers. They were absolutely delicious and made me wish we had such a restaurant in Luxembourg. After dinner we carried on our chat for a while with our waiter (it was a quiet evening) and he told us that not long before Mikhail Gorbachev had had dinner there. He even pointed out the table where the former president had sat.

After dinner we read for a while in our room, but before long both of us had drooping eyelids so we put our Kindles away and had no difficulty at all in dropping into a deep sleep.

 

[BillB]

We spent the early morning, after showering, in packing our bags before going downstairs for breakfast which was again superb, and while we were eating we discussed things to do. We were being picked up at 4 p.m. and checkout time from the hotel was at midday, so that meant we would have 4 hours to kill. There was only one tour on offer that morning which was a walking tour called “Hidden Streets of Moscow”, due to last for three and a half hours. Jackie declined that one, and I understood perfectly, but she suggested that I go on the tour while she waited at the hotel,. She would see that our bags were picked up and then check out of our room, settle up for meals and drinks, have some lunch, and by then I should be back in time for the bus to take us to the ship. At least that was the plan.

I put the bags outside our room, wished Jackie a pleasant couple of hours and made my way to the lobby. Our guide was waiting and several people were standing near her - fellow walkers, whom I would meet again once installed on the ship. Within a short time the remaining people joined us and we set off.

We had been given those little receivers that you hang around your neck, plug in a jack and stick the earpiece on the other end of it into your ear. Your guide can speak in English in a normal voice and everybody in the group hears what she’s saying. Even when she moves a little way away, you still get her commentary or instructions.

We walked a short distance from the hotel, crossed a couple of wide thoroughfares and then waited at a bus stop. Before long the bus that we needed pulled up and we all climbed aboard as our guide held her group ticket against the reader installed by the entrance. We travelled a fair while before I heard her voice in my ear telling us to get off at the next stop. You have to descend to the pavement pretty smartly, as the bus doesn’t stay for long at any one stop.

We then began to walk while our guide talked to us about the places we were going to see and their position in Russian history, art, literature or just plain folklore. One of the first things a visitor notices is the number of churches that have either been restored or are in the process of restoration. Those onion domes are always highly coloured, elegantly shaped and eye-catchingly beautiful. We learned later in the week that Russia is becoming a more religious country, even after more than 70 years of Soviet repression and destruction of many churches.

We walked quite a way, venturing into small quiet streets where writers of the stature of Pushkin, Tolstoy, Gogol had connections during their lifetimes or memorials erected to them after their deaths. We traversed parks and gardens, all of which had either a story to tell or a historical relationship.

One of the parks had a centrepiece consisting of an ornamental lake which had flocks of ducks of differing species, from the common or garden mallard to the Mandarin duck. At the far end of the lake was a line of bronze plaques with bas reliefs moulded on them - some were serious, others humorous.

We were supposed to be back at the hotel shortly after 2 p.m. but by the time 2 came around our guide was still walking and talking, by which time my legs were letting me know they were not happy.

Before 3 p.m. my extremities were rebelling, just at the moment when our guide took us into a little cafe in a cellar where we all had coffee and a Russian speciality pastry, interesting and tasty without being overly sweet.. When I went to pay I was assured that it was included in the price of the tour.

We left and I was wondering what time we would get back to the hotel when once again our guide led us to a bus stop where, after a short wait, we boarded and were transported to a point close to the hotel. I wasn’t the only one who was full of a sense of relief.

I made my way to reception, hoping to see Jackie sitting in one of the armchairs that dot the entrance to the lobby. I walked into the lounge bar to see if she had got talking to one of our fellow cruisistas. But no. I turned the other way and discovered that she had indeed got talking to someone, an American couple, and they were watching my attempts to track her down with amusement. “Where have you been?” Jackie asked. “It’s getting so late that I was worried.”

“If I could tell you where I’ve been, I’d be on Mastermind, “ I told her. My legs felt as if I’d stolen them from my great grandfather. There wasn’t even time for a quick drink so we made our way to the entrance to find our bus.

The subsequent drive, once again through the heavy Moscow traffic, lasted around 40 minutes, then we turned off the dual carriageway we had been on for a while into a park. The bus wound its way through the well tended lawns, arriving at a quayside on the Moskva River. Several river cruisers from different companies were moored up and we could see our vessel not too far away. We went through security and walked the short distance (thankfully) to our gangway. We boarded, finding ourselves in the ship’s reception area, where we were offered a cold towel and a drink. The cold towel was put to good use, as was the drink. After chatting to Alexander, the ships Program Director and Daniel, our Maitre d’, we made our way to our cabin where we found our cases already delivered.

After a quick unpacking operation and a freshen up we made our way to the bar for a pre-dinner drink. We chatted to a British couple before descending to the restaurant for dinner.

 

[Keesha]

Hello Bill, what a great write up and I always wonder if you will one day publish your experiences into a book. I am sure a lot of people would love to read and learn from you. Have you ever thought of putting pen into paper? I always look forward to reading about your adventures around the globe. The world seems like such a small place and the internet is amazing. We are able to book flights, hotels, restaurants with just a touch of a button. It is so convenient and there is no excuse not to keep in touch with anyone. Keep travelling and keep us posted wherever you are. Thank you once again. ️

 

[BillB]

Thank you, Keesha. Once again your thoughts are very heartening and much appreciated. As long as people are interested I'll keep writing. Our next little trip is in a couple of weeks when we go to Maastricht for André Rieu's open air concert in the Freedom Square. But you remember what it was like last year, I'm sure ;-).

 

[Keesha]

By the way Bill, how many times have you been to Andre Rieu's concert? Did you manage to get good tickets?

 

[BillB]

Hi there, Keesha. This will be the second year we've been to Maastricht for one of the open air concerts. Last year our son bought us tickets for a joint birthday gift, but he was pretty unhappy with the ticket sellers who charged him for seats close to the stage but in reality sent him tickets for seats in the second row from the back. I didn't know until then that Andre Rieu and everybody in his orchestra are only 2 inches high.
This time Jackie tried to get tickets when the first batch went on sale but they were sold out too quickly. Then, miraculously, while we were in California in January Jackie went on to Facebook where she is signed up with Andre Rieu's website (among many others) and discovered that the demand was so great that he was putting on another two concerts. She immediately set about buying two tickets as close to the front as possible and was successful.
Once she had done that I went online and made a reservation for a double room at the Bastion Hotel, which is only a short walk from the square.
Last year we went by train, but there were so many works on the line that this time we're going by car. It was a new car in January so it would be good to stretch its legs a bit.
Anyway, if you watch the concert which is being streamed live to designated cinemas worldwide, you can't miss me - I'm the one who's hair deserted him.
All in all, this will be the fourth of his concerts we've been to.

 

[Keesha]

Bill, you and Jackie are true and loyal Andre Rieu fans and deserve to have the best seats with the best view. I hope you will enjoy yourselves and the weather stay warm. Don't forget to get up and waltz to the music of Blue Danube. I shall keep my eyes opened to catch a glimpse of you among the sea of people. It is like finding a needle in the haystack. Hahaha you do have a very good sense of humour. You are so lucky to be living in Europe and don't have to travel too far for such enjoyment. Not so easy for us Canadians. Bye for now.

 

[BillB]

Thank you, Keesha. Your sense of humour isn't too bad either. We hope the weather stays warm too, but I don't think that Jackie will be doing much waltzing as the concert is just over a week before she has her operation for her new hip.
Sadly, though, we don't know how Britain's decision to leave the EU is going to affect us and our friends here. I don't think we will be too badly affected as the Luxembourg prime minister has said that we are all welcome to stay after Brexit. We have been thinking of applying for Luxembourg nationality for some years now, but we were advised to wait as a new naturalisation law was in the process of being drawn up and it was intended to make the process simpler and faster. Our son has had Luxembourg nationality for around 10 years now, and the new law came into effect on 1st April this year. So we went ahead, gathered together all the documentation required and put in our papers yesterday. After all, we intend to stay here for the rest of our lives so it makes more sense. Of course, I should also say that we love Luxembourg as it's a pretty country with a great quality of life. And as I told our doctor when we returned from three years in Spain, "The only way I'm leaving Luxembourg from now on is in my box."
The process takes between 5 and 8 months, so when (if) our approval comes through I'll buy everyone on the forum a drink. Please note, though, I didn't say one drink each.

 

[Keesha]

Good morning Bill, I am curious as to how you ended up living in Luxembourg which is one of the best country to live in. How difficult was it to learn their official language and I believe you speak French and German beside English.

All the very best in your travels, and keep us posted.