Bill's Travels

Looking back on this tour there are several points which strike me. Firstly, as Jackie remarked at one point, when you’re touring you live out of a suitcase with your clothes getting progressively more rumpled as time goes on, necessitating a complete repack every four or five days. On a river cruise you unpack as soon as you board, slide your cases under the bed and there you are. You might send a couple of shirts or some underwear to the laundry but otherwise your shirts and trousers are hanging up in a wardrobe until you choose to take them out.

We’ve never been attracted to seagoing cruises, not least because I’m prone to seasickness. Also the ships are so big and no longer really look like a cruise liner but more like a seagoing block of council flats. Another off-putting view is that there are so many people on board. I know that there is a wide range of entertainments to keep the passengers occupied but, again, we don’t find that appealing. And as for leaving the ship for excursions it looks more like the retreat from Dunkirk than a pleasurable outing.

The food could also be a problem for a diabetic, inasmuch as there is a lot of it, it looks delicious (and probably is) but also very high carb.

On a river cruise, by contrast, there’s only a hundred or a little more passengers, you get to know a good number of them and to recognise the rest when you see them ashore. When you look out the window there is always something of interest to see, locks, villages, towns, cities, hills, mountains, churches, vineyards, forests, other ships. On days when you are cruising the whole time you can sit in the bar with a good book and a glass of wine, or a cup of the tea or coffee that is always on the go, or you can take your book and make use of a chair and a table on the sun deck. It’s a relaxing way to pass the time (except when the Ghastlies hove into view, naturally.

My cold clung on for weeks, my nose as sore as a camel’s rear end in a sand storm. I still have a slight cough which is finally diminishing. It was, without doubt, the worst cold I can remember hosting.

We enjoyed our time on the Danube so much that a couple of weeks ago we made a booking for another one. We had been wondering whether it was possible to cruise from Moscow to St Petersburg so I sat down and began browsing the internet. At first the prices seemed astronomical until I realised that I had landed on an American travel website and the prices included Transatlantic flights. Delving a bit deeper I found a UK company which does that very trip and we have made the reservation and paid the deposit. So we’ll be off again for that next May.

And as for living out of a suitcase when we’re touring by car, train or bus, I have found the solution to crumpled clothes. That lovely shop Lakeland (no, I’m not related to the owners) sell sets of vacuum storage bags into which you can place shirts, trousers, underwear, etc., seal the bag then roll it up to squeeze the air out. The bag flattens out considerably and though the contents look wrinkled, they come out days later as fresh as when you put them in. It’s not often that something does exactly what it’s designed to do, but these bags do exactly that.

Our friends in Massachusetts had been having a rough time of it, with the husband being diagnosed with throat cancer. After investigation he was told that it was operable and didn’t appear to have spread. The operation went ahead and was followed by radio therapy and chemo. It had been some years since we last saw them although we had been in touch via Skype, FaceTime and email.

We didn’t wish to outstay our welcome at a difficult time for them so we had booked into a nearby hotel for several nights and then set off on a trip around the region to see some of the areas we had missed on our previous visit.

Our flights from Luxembourg to Heathrow and then on to Boston were on time. Whenever possible we fly British Airways as we’ve been members of the Executive Club for a number of years and have built up a considerable amount of airmiles.

Once we were aboard at Heathrow it was discovered that the pilot was unhappy about one of our tyres and insisted that they were all changed. At least they allowed us to disembark and we were able to pass the time in the Terminal 5 business lounge.

We climbed back on board just on two hours later and then had to wait a while as we took our place in the line to take off. But soon enough we were off the ground, wheels were up and we were on our way. We were due to arrive around 7 p.m. (thanks to the time difference) but the delay had put us back. The pilot made up an hour of the delay and we were not too late landing.

I had booked a room at the Hilton just off the airport terminal so after going through immigration, luggage reclaim and customs we set off on the walk to the hotel check in desk. This turned out to be longer than I anticipated and involved wheeling our bags through the multi-storey car park. Then suddenly we popped through a door and found ourselves on a floor overlooking the lobby, which was, to put it mildly, enormous. We gazed down at an impressive sight. A huge lobby, bars, restaurants, business centres and shops met our vision. We went down to the check in desk, were handed our keys and, after a look around, made our way to our room, which was large and comfortable. As it should have been as the hotel charged fairly high prices. Neither of us were hungry after the meal on the flight so we had a drink then collapsed into bed.

Breakfast next morning was a buffet, but extremely good, though again it was fairly pricey. They even charged for wi-fi, which was the only place in our two weeks that made their guests pay for it. Normally hotels and b&b establishments use free wi-fi as a loss leader. It encourages guests to choose their accommodation over those that charge. And usually it’s an effective offer. Once, in Fleet, Hampshire, we needed to check in online to a flight we were taking the next day and their charge was £5 an hour, and you could only access the wi-fi in the lobby. We thought this was outrageous and some weeks later we got an email asking for our opinion of our stay. We wrote back in no uncertain terms to tell them that their charge for wi-fi was outrageous and we wouldn’t be staying there again. They called us back and once again we told them that most hotels offer free wi-fi. The lady who called us said that she would bring it up at the next management meeting. I didn’t set my hopes very high on any change, but some time later, out of curiosity, I accessed their website to discover that they were now offering free wi-fi. So sometimes it pays to make your opinions known.

We took the shuttle bus the next morning to the airport hire car building (and were pleasantly surprised to find it was free). Whenever we hire a car these days we use Enterprise as we have found them to be straightforwardly honest, their people explain exactly what you are signing up for, they go over the car with you before you take it and point out any dings, dents or scratches (not many, actually) so you don’t get blamed for them when it comes to paying. And we’ve never found any of those shock charges that come back to haunt your credit card after you’ve returned home.

So efficient were they that we were on our way in a Toyota in a very short time indeed, trusting in our elderly TomTom to get us to Greenfield, Massachusetts. We stopped for a quick lunch and arrived at the hotel we had booked in mid-afternoon. Once again check in was fast and we were relaxing in our room in short order. The only drawback was that there was no restaurant in the hotel, but there was a diner a few hundred yards down the road.

We phoned our friends and were invited out to their house for dinner. We had a great reunion with them, and two of their daughters turned up as well to say hello and help their mother with dinner, which we ate at a table in the garden during the course of the evening. We had a very pleasant time (and very good food), as the sun slowly slid down the sky.

We left them before it got dark so we could get back to the hotel while there was still daylight. We fell into bed just as twilight was fading into night. We were feeling pretty whacked by that time.

Than you very much for your good wishes, Keesha. Glad to hear you enjoyed your European trip and wish you all the best on your future travels. Do you have any strong impressions you would like to write about? I'm sure I'm not the only one on here who'd be interested in hearing about them. I didn't realize you were in Canada. We did a trip to Canada a couple of years ago, travelling on the Rocky Mountaineer train through the mountains.We absolutely loved it and found the Canadian people the friendliest of all the countries we've visited. Hope to do another trip to Canada in the not too distant future.
And now on with the travels.
We duly drove the short distance to the diner for breakfast the next morning. For those who’ve never known the delights of the all-American diner I should say they are not palaces of fine dining but unpretentious restaurants which serve workmanlike food and beverages of the non-alcoholic variety. Prices are reasonable and the food can be surprisingly good. They are frequently situated next to gas stations so the two are mutually convenient if you need to fill up the car and fill up the family at the same time.

I confess to developing a weakness for pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast when I was working for the US army, but that was before I developed Type 2 in 2008. So I scanned the menu in search of a low carb option and my eyes alighted on two fried eggs with sausage links and bacon which is what I ordered, with the eggs over easy, toast and coffee. The coffee was served in large mugs refilled free of charge frequently by our waitress.

From the diner we drove out to our friends’ home as we were all going to Shelburne Falls to visit this charming small town. Terrie, whose husband Michael has had the throat cancer treatment, friends Dotty and David, Jackie and myself all managed to slot ourselves into the car. Michael didn’t feel up to the excursion so stayed home.

Shelburne sits on the Deerfield River and has several big attractions that draw the visitors. The first is the Bridge of Flowers, created in 1929 to reinvigorate the bridge that formerly carried trolley cars but fell into disuse when the increasingly popular motor car drove the trolley car company into bankruptcy. The bridge couldn’t be torn down as it also carried a water main across the river, so it was decided to plant as wide a variety of flowers, bushes and trees on the bridge so that people can stroll across the river as if they were in a garden.

We parked the car and set off across the bridge, taking our time to admire the variety and colours of the plants. It was more like a walk through a flower garden than crossing a bridge. Once on the other side we had a look at the glacial potholes, small, round holes in the rocks created by glaciers during the ice age. They are situated in the rock of the river bed over which the Falls rush. When the river is lower the potholes are revealed.

We took lunch in a small restaurant (salads all round) and followed the meal with a short drive to Josh Simpson’s art gallery which overlooks the town. We already own two of his pieces which we bought on our last visit 7 years ago, when we also met the artist himself. His specialty is works created out of glass, and some of his work is breathtakingly beautiful. We browsed a good while and finally settled on a small red vase in the same series as the two we already own. The salesman wrapped it very carefully for us to be able to pack in a suitcase and transport home. It now sits in close proximity to our previous purchases, all of them eye-catching swirls of red, black and ochre in a style named Red New Mexico.

After Terrie drove us back to her place to pick up our car we drove by the historic Old Deerfield Township, which has a history going back to the Indian Wars in colonial days. One of the houses there has been converted into a hotel called the Deerfield Inn with a restaurant named Champneys and as our friends had recommended it very highly we stopped off and reserved a table for 7.30 that evening. We drove slowly around Deerfield, admiring the old homes and the loving restorations that have been undertaken.

Deerfield had been attacked in 1704 by the French and Indians, killing some of the colonists and taking over 100 prisoners, transporting them to Canada. It’s quite a story and well worth looking up the details on the internet.

Dinner at Champneys was a superb meal. We both chose the fresh halibut and thoroughly enjoyed it and its accompanying fresh vegetables. I had been very strict with myself since we left home so after the halibut I pushed the boat out and had an ice cream dessert, followed by a coffee. My blood sugar later that night was within reasonable limits, so my feelings of guilt were easily banished.

The following day we had been invited to Terrie’s daughter’s house for a party - her son had just graduated from high school so a barbecue was organised for that afternoon. We passed the morning after breakfast in the diner visiting the giant Yankee Candle shop just a couple of miles from our hotel. This place is absolutely enormous and you can spend hours there, as they produce every kind and design of candle you could possibly think of. In addition there are all kinds of Christmas decorations, both for the home and the Christmas tree.There are fairy grottos, bird tables and feeding trays, barbecues, a medieval castle courtyard and an area where model trains run around the walls. We stopped in the cafeteria area for a coffee and watched a show as a group of robots disguised as hillbillies sang country and western songs. You could say that Yankee Candle is a surreal experience, and you’d probably be right.

We had a light lunch after that and then went back to our hotel where Terrie came to pick us up and drive us to the barbecue. When we arrived we were welcomed into the garden, led over to the buffet (enormous) and welcomed as if we were long lost family members.

We joined the other guests sitting on the deck, with several different conversations going on at once. The young graduating student and his friends were having a fine old time in the pool.

I never cease to be amazed at the friendliness and openness of the ordinary American. We had met Terrie’s daughter on a previous visit, but we didn’t know the other guests there, even so we were treated as if we had known everybody for years. They asked us about our visit, our plans, suggested sights to see and made to feel thoroughly welcome and at home.

When it came time to leave, and we had had such a good time, Terrie called in on a couple of friends we had met on our previous visit. The wife, Dottie, is a Type 1 so she’s on a totally different regimen from me. We spent a pleasant hour or so before Terrie had to make her way home to check on her husband.

She drove us back to our hotel where we said a fond farewell. Who knows when we will be back in this part of the world again.

While we were at the Yankee Candle that morning we had decided that we would return to Champneys for dinner that evening, but when we got back to our room we had no appetite at all.That barbecue had proved too tempting and we had overeaten. We spent the rest of the evening first in packing and then in lazing about with our Kindles. The next morning we were off to Vermont for a stay at the Von Trapp Family Lodge at Stowe.

Hi, Keesha. Glad to hear you had a good trip. First I'll answer your couple of questions. Our holiday lasted for 17 days with 15 of them on board and cruising the Danube. We had a night in a hotel either side of the cruise. No, I didn't have any problems with my BS while I had the cold - I usually eat low carb whenever I can, so for breakfast I ate eggs, bacon, mushrooms and sausage, with one small slice of toast. I drank tea or coffee with the breakfast and I don't take sugar or any form of sweetener. Other meals gave us a good choice and I would order the lower carb option - grilled fish or seafood. I didn't notice any particular rise in the blood sugar levels so I'm assuming I was able to keep within the limits I set myself.
I agree with you that European public transport can be good. Here in Luxembourg you buy a ticket for €2 and it's valid for two hours. When Jackie was having treatment for a skin complaint on her hands, she would take the bus to the hospital, paying her €2. Aa the treatment only lasted 10 minutes she was able to get the bus back home within the two hours, so she could use her ticket for the return journey. It was cheaper than if she drove there, paid for parking and then drove home. A couple of years ago we decided to spend a few days in Paris so I bought two return tickets on the TGV (high speed train), from Luxembourg to Paris, first class; with senior discount I paid €97 each. You can't knock that.
Which leads me on to your last point which is beginning to get seriously creepy. We were at the Andre Rieu concert in Maastricht this year as well. Which evening did you go? We were there on the Saturday night. We took the train from Lux to Maastricht on the Friday and stayed in the Bastion hotel, just a short walk from the Vrijthof where the concert was held. We checked into the hotel, had a walk around the area and ate dinner at a nearby Chinese restaurant called La Chine (excellent food and great service) in the square called the Market. We were asked if we were going to the concert that night but as we weren't we were able to have a leisurely meal, a stroll around the area afterwards and then a drink in the bar at the hotel when we got back.
On Saturday we explored the city, had lunch at a different restaurant in the same square (steak this time) and later on had dinner in our hotel as they had a special menu for the concertgoers, timed so that diners could eat without rushing, and still have time to walk down to the Vrijthof for the concert. This was the third Andre Rieu concert we had attended (the tickets were a Christmas gift from our son).
We loved the setting for Ravel's Bolero: the smoke drifting across the square with the lasers cutting through it and creating abstract patterns. I also have a soft spot for Carmen Monarcha, such a beautiful voice in such a beautiful lady, and this was the first concert we had attended where she appeared. I don't think she realises that if she plays her cards right she can have her wicked way with me. Although Jackie might have something to say about that. Afterwards, we drifted back to the hotel, had a drink in the bar and fell into bed, exhausted.
Let us know your thoughts on the Maastricht experience. I'd love to hear your opinion on the evening.
Keep on travelling, Keesha.

We've visited Australia and China, Keesha, but not South Korea. Sounds like a great trip and you've whetted my appetite for another trip to the Far East.
And now, onward and upward.
After packing and checking out of the hotel the next day our first stop was at the diner for breakfast. I had my usual low carb eggs, bacon, and sausage with lots of coffee. We then took off for Stowe, Vermont.

The drive was beautiful with little traffic. It was a Sunday, after all, and it was comparatively early in the morning. Vermont is a very pretty state with green pastures, cornfields, woodlands and mountains.

We took it easy as our check in time at the Lodge was 3 p.m. We arrived in Stowe around midday and drove up to the Lodge. It was an incredibly beautiful drive as the Lodge is situated several miles out of town and way up in the mountains, so our drive consisted of a series of hairpin curves with the outer view of the distant mountains and nearer meadows. The von Trapp family certainly knew what they were doing when they bought the farm originally - they settled in this area because it looked so much like their native Austria. And having friends in Austria I understand exactly how they felt.

We were too early to check in but we put our car in the car park, told the friendly young lady in reception that we had arrived (not really necessary, but you never know) and went into the restaurant for lunch. The waiter seated us by a window which looked out over the hotel grounds and down into the valley below. Rarely have we ever had such a view, which quite distracted me from the meal, which is a rarity in itself.

As we strolled back past reception the young lady caught us and told us that our room still wasn’t ready, but we could take the one next to it, if we wished. Of course we did, so we got our cases from the car and checked in. We were entertained as we made our way to the second floor by the photos from the von Trapp family’s history which lined the corridors, which resulted in us taking three times longer than it should have done to reach our room. Jackie and I have both read the autobiographies of Maria von Trapp and her step-daughter Agathe von Trapp so we recognised some of the scenes captured in the photos..

Stepping into our room was a wonderful experience, as not only was it furnished in delightful country cottage style but we also had a door which opened out onto a balcony which ran around the entire front of the hotel. The exterior style was in the form of an Austrian mountain chalet, but the interior was modern and comfortable. Our room was almost directly over the restaurant where we had eaten lunch except that as we were two floors higher our view was more expansive.

Having unpacked our toilet bag and clothes for the following day we went downstairs and had a stroll around the grounds. There was an open air swimming pool where kids and their parents frolicked happily as well as an indoor pool (the hotel does a lot of business in the winter as it’s great for winter sports: skiing, tobogganing, etc.).

There was a pond not far from the pool where frogs sunbathed at the edges, leaping madly into the water as we approached, so that a series of resounding plops preceded our route around the pool. We carried on from the pond and came to the tennis courts, then the deli-bakery where I believe you can get breakfast in the morning, although we settled for breakfast in the main restaurant as the buffet is a good choice for a diabetic, I’ve found.

The whole site covers 2000 acres and there are hiking trails covering the whole area. Flower gardens are to be found everywhere and in total we found the whole place a delight. As we drifted around we were both struck by the air of serenity that surrounded us - we felt truly relaxed.

Later in the afternoon we returned to our room, stopping off at reception to reserve a table in the main restaurant for dinner.

We descended to the lower floor and did a bit of browsing in the hotel shop. I bought a hardback book that recounted the history of the making of the film “The Sound of Music”, from its inception as a broadway musical to its reputation as one of the most loved films, to its saving of the 20th Century Fox studio by proving one of the most profitable movies ever made.

Wifi is free at the Lodge and we passed a couple of hours catching up on emails and the news on our iPads and finding a hotel for the next two nights. Then it was time to freshen up and head for the restaurant. We were seated at a window table again and we enjoyed our pre-dinner drinks while gazing out at the mountains and the valley that fell away just beyond the outdoor swimming pool.

Our waiter, it turned out, hailed from Alsace, an area we know well as we used to spend a week or 10 days there regularly in the Spring. We had an enjoyable chat with him, talking about the areas we had found so lovely on our visits. Eventually, we each ordered grilled halibut which was superb and both of us thoroughly enjoyed every mouthful. I took the cheese choice instead of dessert and as I wasn’t doing any driving finished up the evening with a coffee and a cognac I looked out to find that the light had died away and it was almost dark. As I sipped my coffee I saw that the moon, almost full, had moved out from behind the tree where it had been hidden from view and was now sailing in all its beauty over the valley. Suddenly it hit me - I had just crossed one item off my bucket list. I pointed out to Jackie that the moon was lighting up the entire scene before us - remember the song? I asked her. She looked at me blankly for a moment, then I nodded out of the window. “We’re seeing Moonlight in Vermont.” She smiled; it’s one of our favourite songs.

I just noticed that there was a sentence in the previous post that was garbled. I'm not sure what happened but I've corrected the garble and it is now in my usual form of expression (that is, not quite so garbled). Just reread the paragraph which begins "Having unpacked our toilet bags..". Good luck.

We had no rush the next morning as our next stop was at Randolph in New Hampshire, a drive of only 3 hours or so. We took a leisurely breakfast at the Von Trapp Family Lodge which was excellent, with lots of low carb choices, including plain and fruit flavoured yoghurt, croissants, toast, eggs, bacon, sausage, mushrooms and even the bread of choice for us when we’re in the US - sourdough, as it’s the lower carb option.

After breakfast we took another walk around the grounds of the lodge, taking in the scenery and giving our cameras a workout.

After this we checked out, loaded our bags into the car and set off: first stop a petrol station as we were getting low and we were going to be driving through some uninhabited country. We drove through Stowe, found a gas station and filled up the tank. What I like about the Eastern states are that you fill up at the pump, then go into the office and pay with your credit card, just like in Europe. In California, on the other hand, you have to insert your credit card into the pump itself, and most times it asks you for your zip code. It then rejects my Luxembourg zip code and I have to go into the office and leave the credit card there, explaining that I don’t have an American zip code. We left Stowe behind as we set off with a full tank.

The progression from Vermont to New Hampshire scenery is gradual. There is no sudden transition, just a gradual changing from mountains and pastures to hills, meadows and forests. The scenery is pretty beyond belief and there is much to enjoy as you drive along.

After midday we passed our destination, The Inn at Bowman. We didn’t stop as we were too early to check in so we carried on past Randolph and on to Gorham. We stopped in Gorham for lunch and had a stroll around afterwards. We noted some promising restaurants as possible dining places for the next two nights. We also browsed through a bookshop and then found a shop selling souvenirs, which also sold coffee and snacks. By the time we had finished browsing and had a coffee it was time to check in at our Inn.

The whole place, with its surrounding gardens, had looked very attractive as we drove past previously and even more so in close up as we parked the car. The gardens were beautifully kept, with neatly mown grass, colourful flower beds and planters full of flowers. Our host was so friendly and welcoming that we felt immediately at home. Nothing, it seemed, would be too much trouble. There was a swimming pool behind the house, and car parking under some trees at the side. Jerry, the co-owner, helped us upstairs with our bags, showed us our room and explained the shower and bath, then gave us a quick rundown on places to see in the area.

After a quick freshen up we went out for a walk around our surroundings and on our return we had a long chat with Jerry. We asked his opinion of some of the restaurants in Gotham and he recommended one called the 2 J’s. We asked whether it would be wiser to reserve a table, but Jerry said that there wouldn’t be a problem on a Monday evening. And he was right - there were plenty of tables to choose from and we were happy with our choice.

We both went for fish and were delighted with the meal. The service was equally good and the price was very reasonable, considering we chose fresh fish, had an aperitif each and wine with the meal.

Our bed was extra comfortable and we slept the sleep of the (fairly) innocent.

We met Rich, the other co-owner, over breakfast, when he gave us details of some of the best places to visit. He described a circular route taking in Mount Washington, which has a cog railway to take visitors to the peak, and then his advice was to take the route through the mountains which would bring us back to Gorham and thence back to the inn. We calculated that this would take the whole day so that’s the one we went for.

Replete with a good breakfast accompanied by gourmet coffees (I tried the vanilla coffee and loved it) we set off following the route Rich had given us. We drove back on the road we had come in on from Stowe, then turned off. Rich’s instructions had been to virtually keep turning left and within an our we found ourselves at the cog railway booking office. As luck would have it we bought our tickets and got to the railway just as the train was preparing to depart. We grabbed a couple of seats in the carriage that was almost full and the train pulled out almost immediately.

There are two trains running on the same track - the first one leaves and after a couple of minutes the second one, the one we were riding in, pulled away. We followed the first train up the gradual first slope, then downhill for a way before beginning the long pull towards the summit.

The ride was fascinating as we climbed higher and higher, over ravines and gullies, until we reached a flat area close to the peak at an altitude of 6,288 feet. Now this is just under the height at which I begin to feel the symptoms of altitude sickness. I didn’t realise I was one of those fairly rare people who don’t acclimatise at altitude until we went to Tibet, some years back, and spent the entire two weeks there feeling nauseated and light headed. I also didn’t know that this is an extremely dangerous condition which can have serious implications for the health of the sufferer, not the least of which is the risk of a stroke.

But I was okay on Mount Washington which I found, when I disembarked, was bitterly cold due to the velocity of the prevailing wind. We had a quick look at the Weather Observatory and then went into the recreation building to warm up with a coffee. There were plenty of panoramic windows from which we could view the breathtaking views that unfolded before us. I think it’s only when you’re at a high point that you begin to appreciate the vastness of the US. Mile upon mile of forests, ravines, valleys, high and low passes, roads that vanished into the distance, spread out before us. It looked never-ending and yet we were only seeing one small corner of the North American continent.

We finally left the viewing areas for a while to have a look for some lunch, but the stuff on sale was mostly bags of snacks of the very high carb variety. We decided that we’d wait until we descended to find somewhere to have lunch.

We went outside again, bracing ourselves against the biting wind, to take a few more photos. After that we went back inside out of the blast to await the arrival of our train to take us back down. The train runs to a schedule so we knew we didn’t have long to wait as the schedule is adhered to pretty closely.

The descent was as interesting as the ascent, even though we were seeing essentially the same view, but in reverse. Once at the lower station we disembarked and set off in the car for some lunch. Although we were in an area that draws many tourists, the kind of restaurant we were looking for was pretty thin on the ground. And so we drove on for about half an hour before an attractive looking restaurant hove into view. I pulled over, we had a quick look at the menu and went inside. The place was fairly empty, but then it was a period after the traditional lunchtime. They were open and serving, nevertheless, and I was fairly certain what I was going to order. Jackie took a little longer as she won’t be rushed into making a decision. I didn’t mind as I was sipping my Jack Daniel’s and wasn’t in any hurry to go anywhere. When the waitress appeared to take our order Jackie ordered crab and I went for the lobster roll. I have learned from previous experience that this is a treat one shouldn’t deny oneself. Imagine a fairly large roll stuffed to the gunwhales with masses of fresh, cold, pink lobster meat at a price that would make diners at expensive restaurants all over Europe weep with envy.

Nor should this little piece of heaven on a plate be rushed. I’m in the habit of spending a couple of minutes admiring it, then I turn the plate as I decide into which area I’m going to sink my teeth. Then I pick it up, applying as little pressure as possible so as not to squeeze the lobster meat out the sides. When the suspense gets too much for me I start eating - nice and slowly, you understand, this is an experience not to be rushed. I take small mouthfuls, savouring each one as shivers of pleasure run up and down my spine. Jackie thinks that my behaviour is more akin to someone having a religious experience, but I never disillusion her as it’s probably the nearest I’ll ever get to a religious experience, so there’s plainly a great deal of truth in what she says.

When I couldn't make the roll last any longer, I paid the bill and we headed back on a roundabout route to the Inn at Bowman, passing through Gorham from the other direction. The countryside was gorgeous as spring comes a little later in these latitudes so the foliage was fresh and green.

We relaxed in our room for the hour or so before it was time for dinner and we drove down to Gorham to visit a Japanese restaurant we had spotted called Yokohama. This turned out to be a mildly eccentric restaurant as it served not only Japanese food but also had some Chinese, Malaysian and Korean choices.

Our waitress was friendly and told us about some of the dishes when we had a question or two. The food, when it arrived, was delicious and served in such huge portions that if we lived in that town I would be barrel-shaped within a month. We left the waitress a nice tip as she had done her job supremely well and had helped make our evening such a pleasant couple of hours.

We drove back to the inn and collapsed into bed. This was our last night at the inn as tomorrow we would be driving into Maine.

Waterville, ME, was our destination next morning, so after a leisurely breakfast and a fond farewell to Jerry and Rich we set off through Gorham, waving metaphorically to the delightfully eccentric Yokohama restaurant. As we weren’t pushed for time we took our time driving but so dilatory was our progress that by the time lunchtime came around we were still quite a few miles from Waterville. And, of course, life being as contrary as it can be, we didn’t pass a likely place to eat for miles. Eventually a Dunkin’ Donuts appeared in the distance. Doughnuts could be my downfall

if I allowed it, but with the steely resolve that I can show occasionally, I usually pass up on those sugary little tempters. Luckily, the chain sells other dishes as well, so we settled for chicken wraps and iced coffees.

We arrived in Waterville a little ahead of check in time, but we presented ourselves at the desk of the Fireside Inn and Suites looking suitably woebegone pathetic. The receptionist responded by giving us a room straightaway. After taking our bags to our room we went out on an exploration of the town which turned out to be larger than either of us expected. At one point in the afternoon I discovered I still had the room key from the Inn at Bowman - not a credit card sized one but a fairly hefty metal key. Feeling not a little abashed at my dopiness, I asked a passerby where the nearest post office was, which I was told was not far and given precise directions. It was a simple enough task to buy a padded envelope, slip the key inside and send it back to Jerry and Rich.

After about an hour I noticed that the sky was beginning to cloud over and it wasn’t long before the clouds were black and threatening. We decided it would be a safer option to return to the hotel, and we were lucky enough to make it just as the first drops began to fall. The clouds were really black now and we watched through the window as lightning flashed around the sky and the rain began in earnest - torrential within a few moments.

We passed the rest of the time as the storm raged outside by going onto various websites and reserving our hotels for the rest of our time in New England. While we were online I reserved a table at a local restaurant for that evening. My last job was to email the Inn at Bowman, explain about the key and tell them it was on the way back to them.

By the time 7.15 rolled around the storm had moved on and the roads had dried out. I put the address of our restaurant, Joseph’s Fireside Steakhouse, into the TomTom and we set out on what was an enjoyable little drive - not least because we didn’t get lost along the way. We also caught glimpses of the residential parts of Waterville we would otherwise have missed. The restaurant was a cosy place with a high ceiling and a fireplace (naturally). Our server was a delightful young lady whose name tag read Catherine B. As Thursday was a quiet evening at the restaurant she spent a while going over the menu and chatting to us generally. We learnt that she was going to college soon and was looking forward to the experience. She told us that she was one of a large number of children in her family and I suspected that she might be looking forward to a little more privacy than she was used to at home. The evening was so enjoyable that we regretted that we were only staying one night in Waterville.

The hotel had an adjoining diner which also served as our breakfast room. It was quite lively, even at that time of the morning, and we were able to get a good meal to set us up for the morning’s drive.

Our destination was Belfast (no, not that one) and the drive was very enjoyable as we passed through the farming country and approached the Atlantic coast of Maine. I’ve had a soft spot for this state ever since our first visit about 7 years ago (I wrote about it on this forum under the title New England News; as far as I know it’s still on the forum) - after all, what’s not to like about a place that produces the finest lobsters, and has a delightfully quirky sense of humour into the bargain?

We drove into Belfast across a bridge that gave an incredibly comprehensive view of the inlet which it spans.

We parked the car and had a walk around to familiarise ourself with the town, although we were staying at the Colonial Gables which was about a mile outside Belfast. We found a small diner and had some lunch, after which we explored a little more. We came across a restaurant called The Nautilus down by the docks so we stopped and perused the menu. It sounded good so we went inside and had a drink and, finding the interior very much to our liking, reserved a table for that evening.

From Belfast we drove north in the direction of Harbourside, though we didn’t actually reach that particular town. We crossed an amazing bridge which took us across another inlet, and carried on up the coast. There are a great number of interesting businesses whose buildings range from the attractive to the spectacular. We stopped here and there to explore interesting looking corners of this fascinating state and enjoyed ourselves immensely.

By the time we were approaching late afternoon we decided that we’d better go and check in to our hotel, the Colonial Gables. This, we found, was a group of cabins dotted over a large meadow that stretched down to the sea. The reception was friendly and helpful and we were soon settling into our particular cabin.

After humping our cases from the car and preparing a coffee with the makings in our cabin, we took a walk down to the beach, which was exposed as it was low tide. The smell of the sea on that quite narrow beach was heady, and we turned rocks over and happily explored rock pools. After which I felt as if my legs were going to revolt if I didn’t put them in a horizontal position, so we made our way back to the cabin and attacked our Kindles for a while. Then it was a quick dash through the bathroom to freshen up before heading into town for dinner.

The Nautilus proved to be as good as it promised from our inspection of that afternoon. I chose lobster (what else?) and Jackie ordered halibut (if my memory serves me, which isn’t guaranteed). The US also produces some excellent wines, and we chose a Californian Pinot Gris to drink with our meal. I passed on the dessert and settled for a coffee.

After the coffee we headed back to the Colonial Gables and within seconds of putting my pyjamas on I found myself dozing over my Kindle, so I switched it off, made myself comfortable and slept soundly until 7 the next morning.

A fond thank you to those lovely people who have awarded me trophies with such kind comments. I am truly touched that so many people enjoy my writings here, and I thank you all sincerely. Thank you, kind people.

Thank you, Keesha. As long as we’re able to travel I’ll keep on writing, as long as I’m not boring the readers here. Do you have any trips planned? We're off to California to visit friends and our son on Wednesday week, so I'd better finish this trip on here before we go!

And so, back to New England. Breakfast next day was in Belfast, a diner recommended by the receptionist at the Colonial Gables. We found it easily enough, and at that time of day parking wasn’t a problem. Traci’s Diner was typical of the breed, serving good food and coffee in a down to earth setting at reasonable prices. I had a look at the menu and settled for - what else - a lobster omelette. And it was superb.

We went back to the Colonial Gables to pick up our cameras and other necessary gear and once that was done I dropped into the reception to see if they had any flyers that would give us an idea of places of interest to visit. I got chatting with the reception lady and she recommended a drive to Bar Harbour, a coastal town about an hour’s drive north. it sounded just like our sort of place so off we drove.

Maine’s coast is a twisting, turning stretch, full of inlets and peninsulas. For some reason I always think of Maine coastline as being one of rocks and cliffs yet it doesn’t have much in the way of cliffs at all. The land rises up gently from the sea and in most places is quite heavily forested, though there is also a lot of farmland and grazing.

We arrived in Bar Harbour, having enjoyed the drive, to find a picturesque seaside resort, attractively laid out with lots of atmosphere. We found a space to park quite easily in the shopping area and walked down the main street to the coast. We spent quite a while just window-shopping and enjoying the variety of goods in the shops. They were certainly a cut above the run-of-the-mill souvenirs so often found in other parts of the world.

We came to a big grassy area which led down to the seashore. People were relaxing on the grass, strolling around, playing frisbee and eating picnics in a scene that was redolent of those Norman Rockwell paintings that featured on the covers of the Saturday Evening Post for many years.

We walked down to the jetty where yachts and cabin cruisers were moored while their owners fuelled up or loaded provisions. Further out from the jetty other boats were moored, obviously not being used that day.

It was a beautiful sunny day and we made the most of the weather by walking around without hurry, watching the people and enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. As we stood watching a ferry coming in to dock I realised that we were standing outside an Irish pub and restaurant. Almost immediately a waiter caught my eye (or was it vice versa?) and asked if we would like a table. Since at that point I could hear a whisky bottle inside calling my name we accepted his invitation and decided that we might as well stay for lunch. Well, the menu was varied and appetising and it seemed the nicest looking place we had passed since we arrived. I have to confess that I struggled for a while over the menu while I sipped my drink but finally gave in to my basest instincts and ordered a lobster roll and a side salad. Sitting on the terrace of this pub eating lobster, enjoying the gorgeous weather and watching the passing throng is one of the most pleasant ways to eat lunch I can think of.

Inside, the restaurant has been decorated in traditional materials - polished wood and brass, which gave it a nicely antique feel.

After lunch we had a wander around the town, exploring any of the shops that took our fancy and buying any small gifts that took our fancy for friends and neighbours - particularly our neighbour across the street who takes our mail in while we’re away.

We eventually took the road back to the Colonial Gables so that we arrived in time to pack our bags ready for our departure the next day.

Dinner that evening was at a restaurant called The Dockside. As I examined the menu Jackie pointed out that I had eaten lobster for the last three meals and I was in serious danger of making the poor crustaceans extinct. I had been thinking along those lines myself (except for the extinction bit) and ordered sirloin tips for a change, served rare. Boy, were they good.

Before departing the next day we stopped in Belfast and had breakfast at Traci’s Diner (this is beginning to sound as if all we do is eat). We were going to be heading for a resort called Ocean Point Inn where we had booked a room for the next two nights. It had looked attractive on the booking website and I only hoped the reality lived up to it.

It was a good drive, sometimes along the coast, sometimes turning inland for a stretch. We loved the Maine countryside and I would put it among my top three favourite states - the other two being Vermont and California. We missed the turning for the Ocean Point Resort but the good side of that was we saw a lot of the surrounding area and got ourselves orientated. We also stumbled across the small town of East Boothbay, which is the nearest town to the Ocean Point Resort.

Since it was now lunchtime we were looking for a suitable place to eat and came across a waterside bar and restaurant called Lobsterman’s Wharf. It looked like the best prospect we had encountered so I parked the car and we went in. It was a large place with outside seating on the wharf and a well stocked bar. We sat at the bar, ordered drinks and went through the lunch menu. We didn’t want anything too heavy as we prefer to take our main meal of the day in the evening. So for me the choice was a no brainer - should I hang my head here and confess that I had another lobster roll? I accompanied it with a nice glass of cold California Pinot Gris. The place wasn’t too busy so the young lady who was in charge of the bar spent time chatting with us in between filling orders for the people sitting outside. She had a deft way with cocktails and Jackie and I were fascinated to watch her at work. We stayed longer than we had planned because we were having such a great time. Of course, once we got back home I couldn’t remember any of the recipes for the cocktails I watched her make.

Once lunch was over we made our way back to Ocean Point, checked in and were delighted with our choice. Again, this was a series of buildings built on a meadow close to the sea. There was a jetty that stretched out into the ocean with some pleasure boats moored along its length. There were more craft moored offshore and small buoys dotted around with small pennants attached. These, apparently, were lobster pots placed there to harvest that delicious crustacean. We were situated at the extreme end of a longish peninsula, and directly across from us was Negro Island. Between us and the island was Clay Cove.

We also found that a full breakfast was included in the rate for the room, so we were happy with that. We found our room, a short distance from reception and the dining room, dropped off our cases and went for an exploration of the resort. I have to say that I was impressed. There was a swimming pool, a hot tub, a pond that was home to a few ducks and a large number of frogs, who sat on the grass beside the water and plopped frantically into the pool as we walked by. It was an absolutely gorgeous place and the weather was perfect, blue skies, warm sunshine, the sea sparkling just a few yards away.

Our room was spacious with a nice sized bathroom so we were more than satisfied with our choice. We relaxed while I wrote out my notes for the day’s events. I have to do that these days so I don’t forget.

After 7 o’clock we walked along to the restaurant for another great surprise. The interior was so attractive that we were hoping the food would match. We were given a window table where we could watch the sun go down as we sipped our aperitifs. “Thank goodness for Jack Daniel’s,” I said to Jackie, raising my glass, clinking with ice. “Thank goodness for gin and tonic,” she replied, the ice in her tall glass clinking in response. The menu was mouthwatering and I confess to finding it difficult to make a choice. Every time I thought I had decided, something else caught my eye and left me in a bit of a dither. I eventually settled on cod, another fish that abounds in Maine’s waters. Our waitress was friendly, smiling and clearly anxious to put us at ease and the food was superb. I wasn’t driving anywhere that evening, so we had a bottle of Californian wine and passed the pleasantest evening we have had in a long while. After dinner and coffee, we went for a post-dinner stroll before turning in.

We both slept soundly that night as the ocean lapped gently at the shore. I woke the next morning feeling beautifully relaxed. We had the makings for coffee int the room so I quickly produced two cups and we sipped them as we had a read “I can’t help feeling,” I remarked to Jackie, “that we’ve discovered a little bit of paradise.” She didn’t disagree.

Having all day we sauntered along to the restaurant for breakfast and once again had a wonderful meal. There was plenty of low carb dishes so I was able to enjoy the meal without worrying about my BS.

After breakfast we set out with a map and no immediate destination in mind. We stopped first at a small town where we went for a look around and discovered a charity bookshop. Bookshops are places I can never resist, so we went inside and passed over half an hour browsing. We continued on, stopping here and there, when we spied something of interest. I’m annoyed with myself that I didn’t note where we stopped as I can’t now remember some of these places. We stopped at a coffee shop which was crowded and lively, then wandered around the town and had lunch at another wharfside restaurant.

Once we had paid the bill we decided to make our way back by a different, more inland, route and found the drive was just as pretty, though the countryside was more rural than seafaring.

Dinner that night was just as good as the previous night, our waitress was still smiling and helpful. There were so many places around that would be worth visiting we agreed that a return visit was on the cards.

When we checked out next morning we were heading for a town called York, which had been recommended to us, for our last two nights.

Two posts today. They were too long to be posted as a single entry.
We were still heading down the coast, passing picturesque small towns and pretty villages. After a couple of hours’ driving we began to see the name Kennebunkport on the road signs. I remembered that this was where the first President Bush lived, and I reckoned that former presidents would probably live in really nice towns, not some downtrodden slum, so we decided that we’d have a look around and have some lunch there.

It was quite crowded, but not as crowded as it gets when American schools are on holiday, and finding a parking spot was not difficult.

We had a walk around, spotting some possible restaurants for lunch, going out on the jetty to view the waterfront from its furthest end. My surmise about former presidents proved correct as we found Kennebunkport a lovely little harbour town. We did some browsing and some window shopping and accidentally discovered a nice looking restaurant for lunch. We went through the menu and decided that there were enough good things on it to make it a worthwhile stop - and so it proved. Once again our waitress was friendly and helpful (it must be my charm and good looks) and we had an enjoyable hour and a half.

Leaving the restaurant we took a walk to an area we hadn’t seen before lunch and found it as charming a spot as you could wish for when holidaying. However, we couldn’t linger as we had to get on to the town of York, where we had booked a room at the Best Western Hotel. We’ve always found this chain to be reliably clean and comfortable, which this one was. However, breakfast was nothing special and there was no restaurant, although this didn’t bother us too much as we had a recommendation from our friend Claire in California, who was originally a New England girl.

We checked in, sorted our cases out to choose what we intended to wear that night and the next day, then relaxed for a while.

With the help of some local info we found in our room we discovered that York is divided into three parts - York Harbour, York Beach and just plain York. So early in the evening we drove to York Beach, as it sounded as if it would be more lively.

We drove down towards the sea, looking for somewhere to park close to the centre and before long we came to a very large car park that had plenty of space. I put the car into a bay and went along to a bank of machines where you paid for your ticket. I took a handful of loose change out of my pocket and started feeding the machine. After what seemed like an age and every silver coin in my possession I had only got as far as 20 minutes parking. I looked at the machine in amazement. At this rate it was going to cost me about $20 for half an hour. Now since we intended to leave the car for a considerable time while we explored the town and then had dinner, I decided that this was beyond extortion. Parking was going to cost me more than dinner, even if we ordered a bottle of vintage French champagne to accompany it.

I pushed the button to cancel the transaction, put the coins back in my pocket and we drove out, looking for a reasonably priced place to park. We cruised around but the authorities obviously had a stranglehold on the parking business in this little town as every parking slot had a parking meter charging the same exorbitant prices.

We drove around a little more and found quite a few little shops with free parking in front, and the shops were closed! I slid the car into one of these car parks, waited a few moments to see if an angry shopkeeper was going to come out and berate me, then slid out of the car and we headed for the sea front.

It was, to put it mildly, a depressing experience. Everybody except babies seemed to be tattooed from head to foot, restaurants were only of the fast food variety, most of them selling the disgusting kind of pizza that has a base of inch thick dough and wears out your teeth if you are foolish enough to try eating it. There were also burger bars, invariably with tiled floors and walls and cheap plastic chairs and tables. The shops only seemed to sell salt water taffy or “homemade” fudge.

Why, I invariably ask, do tourist resorts always sell fudge? I’ve yet to meet anyone who likes it, yet vast quantities are sold to tourists who take it home and present it to their nearest and dearest. The said nearest and dearest promptly dump it in the bin as soon as the donor has departed. We have friends in Hampshire whose neighbour often visits Scotland. The first time she came back she rang their bell and gave them a packet of whisky flavoured fudge. Our friends tried it and found it awful. The next time we visited they asked us if we would like it. Well, to me, anything that’s flavoured with whisky can’t be all bad. How wrong I was. It was utterly disgusting. I binned it.

A few days later the neighbour asked our friends if they had liked the fudge. Being polite they told her it was lovely. I think they may have overstated it, as next time she went to Scotland she brought back a giant packet of it. She goes to Scotland often and our friends are beginning to disappear under a mountain of whisky flavoured fudge.

So as we trudged around this shoddy little town our spirits plummeted. Then I spotted a staircase running up the outside of a building. A sign at the bottom said “Sand Dollar Bar and Grill” with an arrow pointing up the stairs. The sign was freshly painted with good typography (my speciality), so I suggested we go and have a look. I put my head in the door and was delighted to find a restaurant that had an attractive decor and nicely polished wooden tables and chairs. I glanced down the menu and remarked that they served our kind of food. Jackie agreed, and we went in. We had a great meal and found the waitress once again kind and helpful. It pulled the evening out of the “complete and utter failure” class and restored our spirits.

As I remarked earlier, breakfast was nothing special - scrambled eggs, pancakes, maple syrup and muffins. The coffee was good, though. After breakfast we went out for a drive to look at the rest of York’s areas. Claire had recommended the restaurant in a hotel in York Harbour so we thought we’d drive out to have a look and to see if they had a menu outside for perusal. The route there took us through lovely areas of well kept large houses with neat lawns and flower beds. It was so different from York Beach that we were taken aback. We had rather expected a rundown suburb with rusty cars and pickup trucks parked in front.

We arrived in the harbour area and parked the car. It was so pleasant with a jetty, while fishing boats and private yachts and cabin cruisers were moored to buoys or tied up at the wharf. We started off by walking along to the Dockside Hotel, which looked like a nice place. There was a menu outside which we started to study when I noticed at the bottom the opening times. One line read, “Closed on Tuesdays”. And today was Tuesday. Well, that was one idea shot down in flames.

After exploring York Harbour we set off to have a look at the local area, but hadn’t gone far when we noticed a likely looking restaurant, and as it was lunchtime we went inside. So many of our accidentally discovered eateries turn out to be excellent that we weren’t surprised that this one was, too. A great seafood salad was my low carb option and I enjoyed it immensely. Jackie had the same and was equally impressed. Why hadn’t we come in this direction last night?

Lunch over, we set off to explore the countryside surrounding York. York Beach must have been the local exception as we found the rest of the adjacent country to be attractive and under populated.

We returned to the hotel in the late afternoon and I started going through some of the info in our room and discovered a likely looking restaurant for dinner called Clay Hill Farm Restaurant. I went onto their website and it looked a nice place. Their menu was mouth watering so I used the online facility to reserve a table. Within seconds a reply bounced back to confirm our reservation

When we set out that evening the restaurant seemed further out than I anticipated as we drove along lanes that ran through forested hills. However, our TomTom was reliable and we found ourselves pulling into a nicely kept car park beside a fair sized rustic cabin. We were welcomed inside and taken to our table. The restaurant wasn’t crowded, although it was far from empty. I think it was the size of the building that was misleading. Any other restaurant would have been glad of the number of customers dining there.

We were shown to a table by a window, the candle in the centre was lit and we ordered our aperitifs as we studied the menu. I was turn between the steaks offered and the stuffed haddock. Maine, with its indented coastline, is noted for the quality of its seafood, so I settled for the haddock, which was stuffed with local shellfish and topped with a lobster cream sauce.

Have I arrived in Heaven without having to die first?, I asked myself as each delicious morsel melted in my mouth. The wine selection was excellent - we had chosen the wine that was recommended for that dish. The prices were amazingly reasonable for the all-round quality. As we drove back that evening I remarked to Jackie, “I think when great chefs die, they go to Maine.” Jackie didn’t disagree.

We had to leave next morning to head for Boston and our flight home, but there was one more surprise in store for us. As we drove down the highway we came to a town called Portsmouth (there’s a reason this area is called New England, after all). It’s a big port, like its British namesake, and it sits on a fair sized inlet. This means that the highway crosses the inlet on a pretty big bridge. And just as we passed the bridge we saw a sign for a dry docked submarine and its associated museum. This sounded a worthwhile viewing as I’ve always been interested in submarines and Jackie agreed, so I pulled off the highway and followed the signs.

What we arrived at was USS Albacore, a submarine that was used as an experimental vessel to try out new systems. We parked the car and found we were among a small number of visitors. I really wanted to explore this sub, but Jackie decided to sit it out as she doesn’t like constricted spaces. It wasn’t very expensive and it included admission to the museum situated next to the sub.

I saw that Jackie was comfortable on a bench in the park and climbed aboard at the stern. Although this sub didn’t see any wartime service, I’m always amazed that there are men who volunteer to serve in these vessels where space is at a premium. This sub was built in the 1950s so it was considerably bigger than those that fought in WW2, but space was still tight. They had to store enough provisions for a long voyage, much of which would have been spent underwater; as a result the men’s comfort had to play second fiddle to feeding them.

I made my way along the sub, swinging myself through hatches which also served as watertight doors when they attacked or were attacked. Cables snaked along the bulkheads, in places making the bare metal invisible. The men’s quarters were squeezed into any areas that were big enough. The officers’ wardroom was little bigger than the average bathroom, yet they would socialise here where, once a table had been installed, little room was left for the would-be occupants.

When I arrived underneath the conning tower (nowadays called the sail, I believe) I was hoping that I would be able to climb up to see where control of the boat took place but as always it was closed off to visitors. I did get to look through the periscope, though, which was fascinating as I took in a sweep of Portsmouth harbour.

When I finally emerged, Jackie was still sitting in the park and enjoying watching the wildlife. We went into the museum to learn some of the background and history of the submarine service and could have spent a lot longer there.

The rest of our journey back to Luxembourg was uneventful except for Boston. As we approached this metropolis we started picking up the signs for the airport. Now we weren’t heading straight for departures but to the hire car drop off point, so this is what I had entered into the GPS.

What I had overlooked is that some years ago Boston had undertaken what they called The Big Dig in an effort to solve the problem of horrendous traffic congestion. This involved digging up miles and miles of streets and digging a citywide network of tunnels to take a lot of surface traffic down below.

The problem we encountered was that the GPS couldn’t differentiate when we were on the surface or in the tunnels. The result was that we would be instructed to turn left when we were in a tunnel when there was no turning there. Just a blank wall. It’s not advisable to drive straight into a wall while in a tunnel.

Of course, each time we emerged from the tunnel we had passed the spot where should have turned and as we were on a highway with a central divider there was no way to turn now anyway.

Eventually, after a lot of twisting and turning we came to a sign that said simply “Airport”. We decided to ignore the GPS and follow the signs, worrying about the rental car return area when we were closer. And it worked beautifully. After a while we even saw a sign that pointed us towards the rental returns building. We dived in and loved the efficiency of the car return system. We followed the signs up a ramp, turning off when we saw the Enterprise indicator. A young lady singled us into a bay and had already entered our number plate into the computer system. By the time we climbed out she had our details and a provisional bill. A quick survey of the car, my signature on the bill and we were on our way. She pointed out a bus and told us that it would take us to departures. After that it all went smoothly until we reached home.

Hi there, Keesha. Thank you for your kind words and good wishes. They are appreciated, I assure you. I wish you happy travels in the near future. We visited New Zealand some years ago, but only Auckland and its surrounding area. Very beautiful.
When you get to Shanghai make sure you visit the Bund at night. The views across the river to the newly built area are astonishing. The buildings and the lights are incredibly modern so that lights dance across the facades of buildings, changing colors and patterns. Make sure you have your camera set up for night shooting.
In Singapore, the food markets are really good value and very, very clean. Singapore is very strict with restaurants and food stalls to ensure that the highest levels of hygiene are observed. In fact, the entire city is very, very clean. It is also safe for women to walk around at night, unaccompanied.
I don't know how long you'll be in Singapore but try to make time to visit Santosa Island. You will probably need a full day (we certainly did) but it is so much fun. Another place to visit is the Tiger Balm Garden, delightfully eccentric but enjoyable.
We've never visited Korea but it is on our list. We'd be interested to hear your thoughts and experiences.
As I write this we are sitting in California with our friends. Today Jackie and I are driving down to Monterey for lunch and to have a look around. On Sunday we will drive down to Palm Springs to visit our son and daughter in law for our son's 50th birthday.
Our flight over was not the best we've had - a couple had a child of about 1 year old who was crying and moaning in the departure lounge, and then continued on the flight for five and a half hours. I didn't know it was possible for a kid to cry for this long. For a couple of seconds he paused in the caterwauling and I managed to drop off to sleep. But he soon started up again and woke me (and everybody else in the business class cabin). The main reason we pay for business class is because people with kids can't usually afford it. Oh well, you can't win 'em all, I suppose.
So, have a great trip and stay safe.