Bill's Travels

[BillB]

The discovery of the Terracotta Army by two farmers turned Xi’an, a former imperial capital, from a quiet backwater into a wonder that draws people from around the world. Xian still has its original city walls where anyone can hire a bike and ride on top of the wall around the old city or, if you’re feeling particularly energetic, even walk around it. We did the walk, but chose the lazy way out, we only strolled for a while in each direction, enjoying the contrast between the old city inside the walls and the new city that had grown up around them. The gates set into the walls at certain points are surmounted by the pagoda-roofed pavilions that are such a feature of historic Chinese buildings.
The high point of Xi’an, however, was always going to be the Terracotta Warriors, the army that accompanied the first emperior of the Qin dynasty on his celestial journey. They were discovered in 1974 by farmers drilling a well, and one of the original farmers is frequently on hand to sign copies of the book about the discovery which is on sale at the site’s bookshop.
Three pits containing warriors have been discovered so far, and many archaeologists believe there are many more still to be discovered. Consider these figures were created 200 years before Christ and you are staggered. Each figure is an individual, facial features are different, some have beards or moustaches, some carry spears, others bows and arrows. There are musicians, chariots, riders, horses, all stretched out in columns. At the back of the enclosure is the “hospital” where fragments are pieced together into complete figures. There are visitors from all over the world, and many members of the Chinese army, again all looking as if they aren’t old enough to leave school.
There is a museum attached to the exhibit which shows a film detailing the creation of the figures, the techniques used to make them, and their history – at one point a group of rebellious farmers broke into the hall to steal the weapons that the warriors were armed with. It’s why so many of the figures were broken.
Once again I felt happy that I had actually been able to see one of those wonders of the world that had been on my wish list ever since I had first read about them
In Xi’an city, a musical fountain has been created which the local population love and come from miles away to see. Family groups begin gathering long before the fountain begins, though there is plenty of space as it’s the biggest musical fountain in the world. Imagine a large square with a series of nozzles set into the ground. There are 8 water systems, each covering an area the size of a basketball court.
Several times a day the fountain starts to play, shooting jets of water upwards in an ever-changing display. As the display changes so various parts of the area are left without a spray and the Chinese love to rush into these spots, have their pictures taken and rush out, roaring with laughter, before they are caught when the spray restarts. One group insisted our tour guide, a blonde, joined them for their family picture. Other Chinese groups loved watching us doing exactly the same, having our pictures taken against a backdrop of water jets then making it back to “dry land”. I have never seen so many people having such fun without the slightest sign of aggression or bad temper.
Our last visit in Xi’an was to the Big Wild Goose Pagoda, a Buddhist temple of renown. Built around 650 AD it is a pleasantly tranquil spot with beautifully worked wood sculptures dotted around the grounds. A group of teenage girls had formed an orchestra and were playing antique instruments. It was in marked contrast to the high spirits being displayed at the musical fountain.
Later in the afternoon we took a flight to Guilin to see those karst mountains that are such a feature of many people’s impressions of China. It was just after dark and a little light was still left in the sky as we drove from the airport to our hotel. We could vaguely discern the shapes of these high, rounded mountains, but our Chinese guide was quite dismissive of them, telling us that the ones we would see the next day were really impressive.
I had seen many pictures of the karst mountains here, but the reality bowled me over. We boarded the cruise boat and pulled away from the dock and soon we were floating past rural villages where the way of life has barely changed for centuries. We began to approach the karsts which rear up all around, their strangely-shaped outlines covered with pines and bamboo. They are mesmerisingly beautiful and keep the passengers on the boat clustered around the rails. We pass fishermen using cormorants to find their catch, buffaloes being led down to the river, families travelling on bamboo rafts. At the villages women are doing the washing in the river, banging the clothes on stones, kids are fishing with pieces of string and bent pins. Chinese agricultural life in all its traditional simplicity is on display.
The area is experiencing a period of drought resulting in a very low water level in the Li River so from time to time the bottom of the boat scrapes the river bed in the sharper turns. But every turn reveals a view more breathtaking than the one before. Cameras are firing away constantly. Thank goodness for digital cameras and Adobe Photoshop, I thought; the sheer cost of developing all this film would have been prohibitive.
At lunchtime it was almost surreal to be sitting at a table, eating a fine Chinese meal while those ethereal mountains slid past us. At the conclusion of the meal we were offered a chance to drink snake liqueur. The server brought around a large, wide-necked bottle which had a dead snake preserved in the alcohol. Everybody said a polite no thank you. Except me. When will I ever have an experience like this again? I thought to myself. Here I am on a boat in China, cruising past one of the most extraordinary landscapes in the world, having just enjoyed a hearty lunch and being offered the chance to drink the alcohol in which a dead snake is preserved.
We have a photograph of the moment that I raised the cup to my lips. What we didn’t realise at the time was that one of our fellow travellers was also in the frame, staring me with an expression of unimaginable horror. Jackie and I laugh out loud every time we look at that picture. The drink itself tasted like many Chinese liqueurs – slightly perfumed and herby, and very alcoholic. I suffered no ill effects whatsoever.
When the boat docked we had a choice of staying in the town to do some browsing or taking an electric bus out into the countryside to get a better view of rural life. Everybody in our group opted for the bus and we were soon driving past crop fields and rice paddies. We stopped to watch farmers ploughing with oxen, or tossing rice in the air in the age-old winnowing process. At one point we stopped at a farm where we were welcomed by the family and invited to wander around to our heart’s content. It was a typical farm, chickens scratched around, corn cobs were spread out on flat surfaces to dry, the stove in the corner was different inasmuch as it was made to take a wok rather than saucepans. Once again, we were struck by the good natured cheerfulness of the people, their openness and friendliness.
After leaving the farm we headed for the Reed Flute Cave, which has an enormous main chamber which, if my memory isn’t deceiving me, is one of the largest in Asia. The cave isn’t the longest but is one of the prettiest with stalactites, stalagmites, rock columns and pools.
The day following we had a conducted tour of the Organic Tea Farm where we were shown how the tea is grown, picked and dried. That was followed by a demonstration by the Tea Master, Nico. Nico has forgotten more about blending tea, making tea and drinking tea than most of us ever learn. He told us about the different kinds of tea, the types of ailments that can be helped by certain types of tea, how to brew tea correctly, and then made us a series of teas which allowed us to taste the differences between them. A very instructional visit.
After lunch we visited the Solitary Beauty Peak, a mountain which can be climbed by means of a stairway that snakes up over 309 steps. I took one look and decided that my mountain climbing days are over. I had climbed Vesuvius several years earlier but the thought of the pain in my legs the following day was a definite turnoff. Instead, Jackie and I (along with several others of our group, I have to say) kept our feet on the ground and enjoyed an ice cream.
That was our last afternoon in Guilin and we took off for Hong Kong shortly afterwards. Our arrival in HK wasn’t nearly as hair-raising as our earlier ones as a new airport had been built on an outlying island so descending between skyscrapers and staring into apartments was no longer part of the experience. A new elevated highway has been built, and a spectacular bridge connects to the mainland. We passed Tsim Sha Tsui and then took the tunnel to Hong Kong Island where we checked into the Excelsior Hotel for our second time. The noon gun still stands just across the road from our hotel, and it’s still fired daily to mark midday
It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve visited Hong Kong, a visit to the Peak is always a must. The Peak Tram takes you up to the highest spot where the view over Hong Kong, Victoria Harbour, Kowloon and some of the outlying islands makes it one of the world’s greatest outlooks. The hustle and bustle in the harbour alone will keep you entertained for hours – the vessels range from giant tankers and container transporters, tramp steamers, unloading barges, sampans and the Star Ferry, that archetypal HK transport that runs from Kowloon to Hong Kong Island every few minutes and costs just pennies. Raise your eyes and you can see all the way back to the New Territories and the Chinese border, although HK itself has reverted to China, the border is still maintained under the agreement worked out between the UK and the Chinese governments.
We drifted around the island, visited Stanley Market, rode the Star Ferry, shopped in Nathan Road, visited the Botanical Gardens and indulged in some of the finest Chinese food in the world. We still didn’t make it to the Peninsula Hotel for tea, so that’s still on our to do list.
The overnight flight was uneventful and we landed at Heathrow on time. What a trip it had been, what unforgettable sights. As we touched down I felt ready to get on another plane and do it all over again.

A short aside
The last two postings have been written in California as we are currently two and half weeks into our 2 month stay, taking care of the house and Soleil, the cat, while Claire and Terry visit their family in Australia.
Whoever called California the Sunshine State? Ever since we got here we’ve had a couple of days of glorious sunshine followed by days of low temperatures, rain and battering winds. This morning was the worst yet, with torrential rain and temperatures of 50°F. It’s warmer than that in Luxembourg. We’ve had the central heating on all day.
I would have added a picture or two of the Guilin karsts, but my China trip album is on my desktop and I'm travelling with the laptop. Maybe I'll be able to post some when I get back, although there may be a delay as I'm due for a cataract operation within a short time after our return.

 

[BillB]

Had a bit of a panic at the beginning of the week over my meds. I’m on 3 Glucophage (Metformin) 850mg a day and 1 Januvia. Before we left I went to my regular pharmacy and asked for sufficient to last for 2 months. Add that to the quantity at home and I would have had a safe margin. The pharmacist packed everything into a plastic bag and I brought it home. When we were packing I put the plastic bag into my hand luggage so there was no chance of it being lost. Last Friday I went to get some more Glucophage out of the bag and discovered that there was only one packet. I searched through our unpacked suitcases, all the drawers where I had placed my clothes. I went through every pocket in my jackets but had to face up to it – I was short on Glucophage but had two boxes of Januvia when all I needed was one. Could I have made a mistake and left the Glcophage at home?
We Skyped with our son in Luxembourg and asked him to go to our house, pick up a box of Glucophage and send it by UPS or FedEx. We hoped that the volcanic panic would end quickly and the courier companies would soon be flying.
Next day we got an email from him saying that there weren’t any at home. This was a puzzle until we checked the till receipt that showed I had been given two boxes of Januvia and only 1 of Glucophage. The pharmacist had confused the two. And here I was thinking it my own silly fault.
We drove over to the nearest pharmacy in Aptos but they told me they were only allowed to dispense Glucophage with a prescription. They gave me the addresses of several doctors nearby. The first one only took patients by appointment but were anxious to know if we had insurance. The second we tried would see us straight away but we would have to pay $261. I explained to the receptionist that I didn’t want to buy the building, just see the doctor to have him give me a prescription for Metformin. Nope, I had to pay the cash up front. I declined and we left with me muttering darkly about American doctors all being multi-millionaires before they’re 30 years old.
Then I had a stroke of genius – we emailed my son and asked him to scan my prescription and email it to me. He did it straight away, I printed it out and took it to the pharmacy. Would he fill this prescription? I asked. He examined it and although it was in French the doctor’s details were all there so he was quite happy to give me my Metformin. Job done.

 

[BillB]

Across the Roof of the World. What a phrase to set the pulse racing in an inveterate globe trotter like me. Jackie liked the sound of it too,so we signed up. The journey was going to take in Kunming and Chengdu in Western China, then Lhasa in Tibet from where we would journey westwards through the Himalayas, finally arriving in Kathmandu, Nepal. Two of the highlights that so attracted us would be the Potala Palace and Everest Base Camp, both in Tibet.
Once again we had to pay a visit to the Chinese Embassy in Luxembourg to obtain visas, and later fill in a form to get permission to visit Tibet which we sent off to the travel company. We subsequently flew from Heathrow to Beijing but this time we didn’t even leave the airport, simply transferring to a flight to Kunming.
Kunming is better described as interesting, rather than picturesque. It’s situated close to an enormous lake but is quite industrialised, though it has a long history.
Just outside our hotel was a market which, being a Chinese market and thus vastly different from our usual run of markets, was a big attraction for us. We didn’t get to visit it for the first couple of days though, as our programme was a full one.
We had dinner that first evening in the hotel as they had several types of restaurant for us to choose from and we were pretty tired from our flights.
One of our side trips was to the Western Mountain where several shrines had been built up a steep slope. The first of them had a stunning overview of the lake and an interesting set of carvings of gods and legendary creatures.
Driving back alongside the lake, our guide pointed out a series of huts and told us that this was where the pilots of the Flying Tigers used to live. The Flying Tigers were legendary in the ‘30s and ‘40s as a group of American pilots who had volunteered to fly for the Chinese Nationalists against the Japanese invaders. A film was made about them I remember seeing as a kid which starred John Wayne. They were called Flying Tigers because of the snarling teeth painted on the air scoop below and behind the propellors of the planes they flew.
One evening our guide mentioned a show put on at a local theatre called Dynamic Yunnan which, I admit, is not exactly a title to stir the blood. However, he explained, it was a show choreographed by a renowned Yunnan dancer of the Bai people named Yang Liping. She also dances in the show, where the rest of the cast are drawn from Yunnan ethnic groups. Most Chinese are of the Han grouping, but there are many other ethnic groups which have special status within China.
Most of the rest of the cast is drawn from the sons and daughters of Yunnan farmers. They dance traditional ethnic dances which have been choreographed and presented in a modern way, using the latest stage techniques.
From the moment the show began we were spellbound – as was the rest of the audience. These young people metaphorically burst out of their backgrounds to blaze off the stage in an eruption of dance and song. Every scene was intriguingly lit, energetically danced and presented with a theatrical flair that one rarely sees, while the show’s quieter, dreamy numbers created oases of reflection in the dancing. At the show’s end the applause was tumultuous, the cast being brought back for curtain call after curtain call. Yang Liping, who had danced several solo numbers came on stage to riotous applause, as her dances were so original and elegant.
From time to time the show tours the West under the title of “Return to Shangri La”, so if it ever comes to a theatre near you, you’ll regret missing it.
Kunming also has another claim to fame – the astonishing Stone Forest, an area of 460 square kilometres of vertical rock columns. Known as the First Wonder of the World, this area of natural curiosity genuinely boggles the mind. It’s so large that it would take years for anyone to view the entire groups of rock formations. There is truly nothing else like this in the world.
Kunming is also noted for its mild climate which helps create a large flower growing industry. One evening I got into conversation with a young Englishman who intended to start a business importing flowers from Kunming into the UK. He was full of enthusiasm and was knowledgeable about the markets and transport. I hope that he succeeded – he had invested a lot of work and energy in the project.
On our final afternoon Jackie and I decided to pay a visit to the market outside the hotel. I slipped on a jacket and out we went. It had drizzled for a while but that had stopped and we drifted around the stalls, inspecting the wares on sale – household goods, vegetables, fruit and clothing. Once again we were fascinated to see fruit and vegetables that we didn’t recognise at all. Halfway around, I glanced down at the ground and realised something was odd about my feet. And then it hit me – I had forgotten to put my shoes on and was still wearing my slippers. But since even I hadn’t noticed I calculated that very few other people had – and even if they had noticed, so what? However, how many other British people can claim to have circumnavigated a market in Kunming while wearing carpet slippers?
The main point of visiting Chengdu, for us, was the opportunity to visit the Panda Breeding and Research Centre. This was a chance of seeing giant pandas in circumstances that were as close to seeing them in the wild as it’s possible to get.
The Centre runs a breeding programme, keeping the newly-born pandas in incubators as panda mothers are not the most dutiful in the world. We passed the incubators where the babies dozed, separated from us by glass windows to prevent the transmission of infections.
Outside, the enclosures were huge, letting the adolescent pandas live as naturally as possible. They climbed trees, chewed on bamboo shoots and generally carried on doing what pandas do. There were various enclosures where pandas of various ages learned how to socialise with their contemporaries.
We spent a day there, entranced by these beautiful, gentle creatures, and could have spent even longer.

 

[BillB]

Once our plane came to a halt at the airport at Lhasa, we disembarked and walked to the terminal - there are no jetways in Tibet. Between the plane and the terminal I began to feel distinctly odd. We boarded a bus for our hotel in Lhasa, where we had a couple of hours to recuperate before we were taken for a trip around the city. The Potala Palace is one of the most impressive buildings in the world sitting, as it does, on a high promontory overlooking the city. This is the building that has come to symbolize Tibet in many Westerners’ minds. It was the residence of the Dalai Lama until the Chinese invaded, when the Dalai Lama fled to India to avoid falling into the hands of the Chinese government and being used as a puppet.
I was still feeling odd, in fact worse than before. On returning to the hotel we had dinner and browsed the shops in the hotel precincts. I realised I was suffering from altitude sickness as Lhasa is situated 12,100 above sea level. I picked up a pack of organic capsules which promised to help the patient acclimatise rapidly. Back in our room I took two capsules, and ten minutes later I rushed to the bathroom, stricken with a powerful bout of nausea. I spent a half hour throwing up and suffering a headache.
Next morning I wasn’t feeling any better, and when we drove out to the Potala Palace I had to cry off the visit as it involved climbing at least a thousand steps. Jackie stayed with me as we waited at the bottom while the rest of the group started the climb.
That evening I went to the doctor’s office in the hotel and she promptly put me on oxygen. I sat there for half an hour and began to feel an improvement. When I left I was halfway to being a human being – but not for long. Next morning I felt as bad as ever.
Everywhere we went, I felt awful. I tried to summon up some enthusiasm when we went to an outdoor market, but I felt listless, disinterested. We visited some Buddhist monasteries and temples, but again I could summon very little interest. My throbbing head gave me no respite, and nausea was always lurking within me. The monasteries, to my mind, being illuminated by butter lamps, were dark, dingy and sooty. The constant smell of burning butter did nothing to improve my nausea. My appetite dwindled away to a stage where I was forcing food down just because I knew I should.
When we left Lhasa, our route was a climb, so my symptoms gradually got worse. At one point we stopped for a picnic in an apparently deserted area. Within a few minutes, 3 little Tibetan urchins turned up and watched us. I offered one of them the apple in my lunch. He took it with a big grin of thanks. I offered the lunchbox to the group and they all delightedly helped themselves. We got back on board our Range Rover with everybody telling me I should eat. I got rather irritable – I was well aware of that, the problem was that when I ate it was accompanied by a wave of nausea.
Outside Lhasa the hotels were nothing to write home about. They were frequently grubby and, I suspect, their hygienic practices were far from the best. At one hotel we found the emergency exit blocked by about 30 bicycles. A group cycling throught he Himalayas (which sounds like masochism pure and simple to me) was also staying at the hotel and the management thought that was the best place to stack the bikes. I made sure we got a room on the ground floor with a window that opened.
We were expecting our hotels to be basic – we weren’t prepared for primitive. Another hotel we arrived at had our towels (still damp) hanging on the window ledge of our room. From the dingy look and stale smell of them I suspected they hadn’t been washed since the previous guests checked out. Next door but one to us a couple from our group pulled back their bedclothes and discovered hairs, Q-tips and bloodstains. They demanded another room. But when they walked past the restaurant kitchen they were horrified to see the floor was thick with discarded bits of food and grease. That night, while I stayed inertly in our room Jackie walked down to the village with a couple of our fellow travellers to buy something to eat. There was nothing for sale except snacks and they were all horribly sweet. This was 8 months before I was diagnosed with T2, so sugariness was not a problem – the awful symptoms I was suffering definitely were.
Apart from the Buddhist monks, who were spotlessly clean, rural Tibetans were the grubbiest people I’ve ever encountered. I jokingly remarked that the last bar of soap in Tibet had been stolen in 1595 and never recovered. Many Tibetans believe that washing and bathing are unhealthy, so coupled with their habit of rubbing yak butter into their skin instead of washing means that dirt is ingrained in their hands and faces – the only parts that are exposed. Their clothes are shiny and stiff with grease. Blobs of yak dung, shaped into patties, were stuck to the walls of rural houses to be dried and used as fuel in the winter.
In another hotel we discovered that whoever had swept the floor in our room had merely shoved the dirt and dust into a corner and left it there.
I ate less and less as the time went on. One of our fellow travellers had a stock of Kendall Mint Cake, which was supposed to be used by mountain climbers to help them acclimatise and he was kind enough to hand me a packet. It was something that I could keep down so it helped.
We visited more monasteries, which I regarded with a jaundiced eye, though the Buddhist monks brightened up our visits with their almost childlike fascination with digital cameras, happily posing for pictures and then crowding around to look at the resulting photos on the camera screens. Jackie even got a picture of one of our group viewing his shots with a monk leaning over his shoulder. Nothing surreptitious about his peeping.
We drove up the Kambala Pass to an overlook that gave a fantastic view of the Yambok Lake. This was a truly beautiful sight, and gave us strange results when we downloaded our photos – all the shots of the lake looked more like paintings than photos. Maybe something to do with the elevation. Nevertheless, the scene was so beautiful that it even brought me out of my oxygen-starvation lethargy.
On another occasion we stopped in the foothills of the Himalayas to find ourselves in a scene more reminiscent of the Sahara than the highest mountains in the world: sand dunes spread as far as the eye could see, tempting some of our group to stride off for a hefty hike across the sands.
At one point Jackie remarked that she was worried about me as my face had become red with a blue tinge. “That’s marvellous,” I told her. “I pay all this money and all I get for it is a face like a baboon’s bum.”
When we arrived at the stopping point for our visit to Everest Base Camp I was so wretched that I could no nothing but stay on our vehicle. I insisted that Jackie go on to visit the Base Camp, which was a cart ride away. The rest of the group headed off and I fell asleep, only awakening when they returned. We had packed lunches and the rest of the group was sitting on the ground, tucking in. I climbed down, and promptly began throwing up. I was discreet enough to move behind the 4-wheel drive. Jackie told me that the base camp was a big disappointment as it was little more than a high altitude rubbish dump. Climbers, it seems, simply dump their old oxygen bottles, food wrappers, empty cans and anything else they don’t want to transport. She assured me I hadn’t missed much. I dropped my packed lunch into the nearest waste bin and climbed wearily back into our vehicle.
Eventually we headed for Zhangmu, the border crossing town between Tibet and Nepal. We stopped for lunch in a small town then discovered that we would have to wait until 4 p.m. before we could drive any further as the road was being worked on. We hung around for the necessary hours, while being tormented by the most evil kid I’ve ever witnessed. With a couple of cronies he went up and down the street just looking for mischief. The wicked expression on his face was not helped by the snot dripping out of his nose, which was mixed with blood, so it looked to me as if someone had given him a good clout. Whoever it was, I wanted to shake his hand. One of our group was profoundly deaf with a hearing aid in each ear and when this kid saw that he began mocking the deaf person, laughing and pointing at his ears. He tried to let down the tyres on our 4-wheel drives before we drove him off, then, passing our Range Rover he noticed that our deaf friend had his back to the door, leaning on it. This little toad tried to quickly open the door so that our friend would fall out, but fortunately he was sensitive to movement and grabbed a handhold. When we finally drove away, I hoped that someone would throw him off a very high place.
After a comparatively short drive we began to descend a very steep gorge. A wild river battered its way along the bottom which seemed an awfully long way down. Soon we came to a stretch where the road surface had deteriorated into a morass of stones and mud – mostly mud. As we started slipping and sliding down the gorge we were between a vertical wall on our left and a sheer drop of several hundred feet to the river on our right. Abruptly we came upon a seemingly endless row of shacks, little more than tarpaulins nailed onto wooden frames which had been constructed on the very brink of the vertical drop. The road was being rebuilt, we were told, and this is where the workers lived. Waterfalls large and small poured water onto our track, making it ever more slippery. From time to time we had to halt while construction vehicles manoeuvred out of the way to let us past. The reason we had had to wait was that the road is strictly one way, and it didn’t open for downward traffic until 4 p.m.
Just before we arrived at a sharp turn in the track we were waved to a halt. We sat there and sat there, until finally someone blew a whistle which was quickly followed by an almighty explosion. From around the bend ahead of us a great blast of mud, rocks, dust and smoke erupted outwards and began tumbling down the side of the gorge.Once the air cleared we were waved on and we trundled onto a plateau which had just been created by blasting the rock walls away. Wouldn’t the health and safety freaks have had a fit if it had happened in Britain?
We finally arrived at Zhangmu, halfway down the gorge, a town that was built vertically up and down the rocky walls, a method of construction that made our hotel’s layout very interesting – there were little more than a few rooms on each level, with the dining room on the lowest level and no lift. We made our way down for dinner, but my appetite hadn’t improved and I could only manage a mouthful or two.
The next morning we had to load our luggage onto our Range Rovers, then walk down to the immigration service office where we had to queue to get out of Tibet. While we waited I became fascinated by an American girl standing behind me in the line. She had shaved off her eyebrows and had drawn in two black circles, about the diameter of a 5 pence piece, each with a straight, thick black line pointing outwards at 45 degrees. It was so bizarre that I became quite fascinated, wondering how anyone with more than a single brain cell could think that was glamorous. Finally, I settled on the theory that she was an entrant in the Miss Silly Eyebrows contest.
Having been through immigration we walked down to the Friendship Bridge which spanned the gorge. Our transport was waiting for us with our suitcases on board. When the drivers started unloading our bags we were surrounded by a jostling hoard of men and women, all trying to grab our bags to carry them for us and so earn a couple of dollars. How much money could they earn in a day? Clearly, very little, so it was almost a matter of life or death that they grab a suitcase and hold on to it.
We crossed the bridge to wait at the Nepalese immigration office. Finally we were finished and rejoined our new transport. We left our old transport, driver and Lobsang, our guide, at the other side of the bridge and began another descent down the gorge, this time on the right-hand side, in new vehicles. We left the road works behind and our progress was faster and more pleasant as the road surface was in pretty good condition. We passed a great number of rice paddies, green and lush, growing the delicious Basmati rice that the region is famous for.
I began to feel better and better as we continued downward and the amount of oxygen in the atmosphere increased. I began to take more of an interest in my surroundings. The landscapes were stunningly beautiful with the towering Himalayas serving as a backdrop for the emerald green mountain pastures and side valleys that emptied into our gorge.
At one point we stopped beside a high bridge from which bungee jumpers were leaping. It was an awful long way down before they came to a halt and began the bounce back.
We stopped for lunch at a restaurant where we sat in the garden and were served an Indian-type meal. I was feeling so much better that I was actually able to tuck in and enjoy the meal. Next to our table was a large bush, which our new Nepalese guide informed us was a marijuana plant. Perhaps getting high would have made my altitude sickness more bearable.
We arrived in Kathmandu in late afternoon and found it fascinating to watch everyday life going on. We were now in the land of the sacred cow and we saw several of them, wandering around untouched and unharmed, traffic calmly waiting until the cow crossed the road.
I was so relieved to be back to feeling almost normal. We checked into our hotel, freshened up, had a drink in the bar and then enjoyed dinner.
For the next two days I recuperated, resting in the hotel, and venturing out for short walks. I was now able to eat normally, the headache had completely gone and I was no longer dizzy or nauseous. It’s a pity that I didn’t get a chance to make the most of Nepal. I had the impression it was a great place to spend more time. I’ll just have to return another time.
When I got back home I discovered that I had lost 20 lbs.

 

[BillB]

Before I get on with the last journey we have made so far, I should explain something I wrote earlier which I didn’t take further.
When I was writing about leaving Spain and moving back to Luxembourg I said that by doing so I’d inadvertently saved my life. I owe it to those readers interested enough to read these postings to explain what I meant by that somewhat cryptic remark.
For the last 6 months or so in Spain I became aware of a lesion on the side of my neck – small, but irritating whenever I ran my hand over it. Some months after our return I decided I’d go and see the doctor about it. In Spain I probably wouldn’t have bothered as it was a bit of a hassle to drive down to the coast, find somewhere to park and go and sit in the doctor’s waiting room. In Luxembourg, by contrast, I was often in town and the car park was not far from the doctor’s surgery.
He examined it and told me that he didn’t think it was anything serious, but he would make an appointment for me with a surgeon at the hospital to have it removed. I duly turned up and was operated on as an outpatient. The surgeon had a look and also told me that he didn’t think it was anything serious. A quick anaesthetic jab and the lesion was swiftly removed.
My GP had told me to call in at his surgery about five days later for the results of the biopsy which would be carried out on the lesion after it was removed. When I arrived it was to be given the shocking news that the lesion had, in fact, been cancerous. It was a type of cancer called Bowen’s Disease which, to my great good fortune, is one of the slowest growing cancers. He explained to me that it had not spread and the section removed showed that it had been contained within that section. Bowen’s Disease has only one cause – exposure to sunlight. Was it a result of working in my garden – even though I habitually wore a wide-brimmed hat in the blazing sunshine? I don’t know, but I’ve never been one for lying in the sun to get a tan, I just get bored stiff doing that.
This form of cancer begins in a hair follicle and very, very slowly begins to eat its way through the follicle until it breaks through and begins to spread through the body. About a year later I noticed a small lump growing on the scar, which prompted a quick return to the clinic. The surgeon explained to me that if this was a return of the Bowen’s Disease, removing it may cause it to spread. I thought about it for a second – if I left it in place and it was Bowen’s Disease again, it would grow and spread anyway. My decision was to cut it out. The subsequent biopsy showed that it was nothing more than a common or garden wart.
It has now been almost 6 years since then, so it seems my luck has held. But this episode proved one thing to me – you never know what’s around the next corner, so make the most of your life while you’re able.

 

[BillB]

I don’t know why it took us so long getting around to visiting South Africa. It had always loomed large in my imagination as my father spent some there in the Royal Navy during WW2. He was offered a mining job there but turned it down. To 8-year-old me that seemed like perversity of the worst kind. Britain was so dreary in those post-war years that I couldn’t imagine why anyone would prefer to live there instead of sun-drenched southern Africa. I gazed at the photos he brought back – Table Mountain, Durban, Simonstown with yearning. But with the advent of apartheid some years later perhaps my father was more percipient than I gave him credit for at the time.
So when we started looking for a trip where we could have the chance to view wildlife in its natural habitat, it seemed almost natural that we would plump for SA. And we hit the jackpot with the itinerary we chose and the group we travelled with.
We flew overnight to Johannesburg where we were met by Elsebe, our South African guide. We met our fellow travellers, saw our luggage loaded onto our minibus and were introduced to Leon, our driver. From Johannesburg we drove to the capital of Pretoria where we were given a conducted tour of the government areas and the Presidential Palace. After lunch we were taken to the Voortrekker Monument which was built in the 1930s as a tribute to the Boers who didn’t want to live under British rule and set off into the largely uncharted interior. They set off, their families and belongings loaded into ox-drawn wagons and set up their own farms and communities far from the hated British government. The monument is massive with a tower that can be climbed for an epic view of Pretoria. Inside, a beautifully carved frieze in white marble runs around the interior of the monument, telling the story of the trek.
Later we checked into our hotel, then went over to a shopping mall cum market to get some money from a cashpoint machine and grab a cup of coffee. I took all the recommended precautions when I used the machine, but nobody seemed interested and I was completely unmolested.
Next morning we set off for the Kruger National Park, stopping off at Bourke’s Luck Potholes, a curious natural phenomenon carved out of the rock by the flowing river. Later we stopped at a spot called God’s Window, an outlook giving an incredible vista over the surrounding hills and valleys. We arrived at the Protea Hotel after driving along the Panorama Route, a journey as spectacular as any we’ve ever made.
The Protea Hotel was 20 minutes from the entrance to Kruger National Park and next morning we were up at the crack of dawn for a full day safari in the Park. It was just beginning to get light as we climbed into our safari vehicle at the gate. It was chilly, very chilly at that time of day and as our vehicle was open topped and open fronted we all wrapped ourselves in the blankets that we found on each seat. Dawn and sunset are the best times to see the wildlife as they set about finding food. The six of us in the jeep all had our cameras at the ready, batteries fully charged as we set off down the trail. And to our great delight we had hardly gone a couple of miles when the driver quietly pulled over and pointed out to us a rhinoceros in the middle distance. In a hushed voice so as not to alert the animal he explained that this was very rare – a black rhino, hardly ever seen when compared to white rhinos. We watched for a good while as he rootled around in the undergrowth. Our guide told us that black rhinos (yes, they really are darker) are smaller than white rhinos and have a differently-shaped mouth. When we told other members of our group later Elsebe was incredulous, but viewed our photos and agreed that we had indeed seen a black rhino.
Driving on we saw kudu, ostrich, springbok and many other types of gazelles. Kudu have magnificent antlers, curled and twisting in an elegant form.
At another point we drove past a rocky outcrop with, silhouetted magnificently on the top and looking out over the landscape, was a klipspringer. The name means rock jumper in Afrikaans and that is just what these gazelles do, leap from rock to rock at vertigo-inspiring heights. He was so high and so still that at first I suspected it was a statue until he moved his head and looked down on us.
We stopped for breakfast at a small refreshment cafe. Our meal was packed for us by the hotel but fortunately for me there was a good selection of low carb items in the box such as apples and eggs. My high-carb rolls and bread items I gave away to any of my companions who had a larger appetite. There were lots of tropical birds around foraging for the crumbs we dropped and they made perfect models for the photographers among us.
Several times we stopped to view groups of elephants as they passed, invariably groups of cows with young ones in tow. They all blithely ignored us as they knew the vehicles were no threat to them, but had any of us got out they would have recognised the outline of their greatest enemy, man, and would quite likely have charged. The same goes for several other animals, especially the big cats.
We took lunch at a somewhat larger cafeteria and I had little choice but to take a sandwich with a low carb filling.
The afternoon took us further into the park and then on a curving trajectory to bring us to an exit. We saw plenty of gazelles, herds of zebra, more elephants and, at a distance, a pride of lions. More rhinos, white ones this time, and more birds than you can imagine.
That evening at the hotel we had a barbecue with kudu sausage, alligator tail, mealy mash, braised wildebeest and a variety of vegetables – I was happy to see such a variety of low carb options. It was so low in carbs, in fact, that I was able to take a small dessert.
The next morning we drove to The Kingdom of Swaziland, stopping at a cultural village to give us an idea of what life was like just a few years ago. There was a display of thatched huts of the kind that the population lived in at one time. The floors were made of cow dung mixed with water, then laid down, pounded and smoothed until they became almost as hard as stone. One of the inhabitants told us of the customs and then we watched a performance of exuberant dances where the performers certainly expended a great deal of energy.
From there we drove to a glass works where the local workers produced glass artefacts from recycled glass. So good is their work that people began to collect their pieces but at one time the factory ran into financial difficulties and was on the verge of closure. Collectors, finding that their favourite collectibles were not going to be available, came to the rescue with financial support to keep the works operating. We bought some small pieces to give a little support. There were others we would have liked to buy, but glass is heavy so we were restricted.
Reaching the capital Mbabane, we stopped for a couple of hours to visit a market. Not being on the lookout for bargain priced meat or vegetables, I stepped outside the market and opted for a cup of coffee instead. We then drove on to the town of Manzini and stayed at the colourfully-named Tum’s George Hotel.
Our destination the next morning was the Hluhluwe-Umfolozi National Park in Zululand, stopping first at the Swazi Candle Factory where we were given a demonstration of moulding and carving of candles. The handiwork was superb and the items they produced were really things of beauty.
Hluhluwe is the oldest national park in SA, and the name reproduces the sound of the wind moving through the long grasses of the plains. Our hotel was set in the forest and was a collection of individual huts linked by a raised wooden walkway. Following the walkway away from the huts led you to a covered outlook giving a view over the expanse of grassland. There were comfortable armchairs where the viewer could relax while watching the wildlife grazing. Whatever time you went, there were always animals to be seen – zebra, ostrich, giraffe.
One day a couple from our group came back from the vista point to say that there was a green snake stretched out and taking the sun on the hand rail near the viewing lounge. Elsebe got out her book on snake identification and went down to take a look herself. She came to the conclusion that the snake was a green mamba. Green mambas are less venomous than the black member and somewhat less aggressive, but its bite is venomous and fatal without a quick application of antivenin.
Our group found that we all got on very well, nobody was difficult, and everybody was always on time. Elsebe was a delightful guide, and all of this made for an extremely happy, considerate and integrated group.
A morning game drive saw us up bright and early at the entrance to the national park. Once again it was cold in the open vehicle at the edge of daybreak and we were well covered up as we moved into the park.
Although Hluhluwe is much smaller than Kruger, we saw more wildlife in a morning than we had all day at Kruger. We saw many rhino, giraffe with young, but the most magical moment was when our guide/driver, after talking on the radio with some other guides, took us on a roundabout route and then pulled up on a sandy track. We waited as he told us that he had information about a herd of elephant cows on their way to where we waited. We sat in silence until, without warning, a rustling in the undergrowth grew into a group of elephants making their way downhill toward us. There were about 8 cows, several young of varying ages with them-
For such huge creatures, elephants are extremely quiet when they move through the bush. The only noise you hear is the deep rumble they make in their throats when they’re contented – much like a cat purring. Their feet on the sandy surface are virtually noiseless. They crossed the track almost within touching distance. Then, to our amazement, a huge bull walked out of the undergrowth, totally ignoring us, crossed the path and vanished behind the bushes, heading in the direction of the cows. A discharge from glands below his eyes was running down his cheeks, as if he was crying. Our guide explained that he was in must, the discharge is a sign of this and he was following the cows with hope. The randy old devil.
At another point we came across a rhino cow with a youngster. We sat and watched them, enthralled.
The afternoon took us to Lake St Lucia where we embarked on a small cruise boat. We were delighted to see hippos and crocodiles on the banks of the lake and a multiplicity of bird life. We even caught sight of a fish eagle sitting in the treetops, keeping a keen eye out for his next meal.

 

[BillB]

We departed the next morning towards the Drakensberg Mountains, taking in the battlefields of Isandhlwana and Rorke’s Drift. Anyone who has seen the film Zulu and its prequel Zulu Dawn will be aware of the events at these two places. For those who haven’t let me give a brief summary. The Anglo-Zulu war was undertaken to bring about the downfall of the Zulu king Cetshwayo. Lord Chelmsford led a column into Zululand to bring the Zulus to battle. At Isandhlwana, Chelmsford committed the unpardonable sin of any military commander by splitting his force, leaving 2,000 men at Isandhlwana while he took the remainder further, believing the Zulus incapable of arriving at that point so soon. Unfortunately for Chelmsford and his force, the Zulu impi moved with incredible speed and fell upon the force left behind. The surprise was total. Although the British force was armed with Martini Henry rifles and the Zulus with assegais and buffalo hide shields, the battle was quickly over. There were no surrounding entrenchments or laagered wagons and within a short time the Zulus had overwhelmed the British and Colonial troops, wiping them out almost to the last man. When Chelmsford returned with his force it was to a field of death.
4,000 Zulus left Isandhlwana and advanced on Rorke’s Drift where 139 British troops from the 24th Regiment of Foot were the defenders. These 139 men, commaded by Lt Chard and his deputy Lt Gonville Bromhead held off the Zulu impis. In defending the mission station of Rorke’s Drift, these men drove off the Zulus and won 11 Victoria Crosses and other decorations in the process.
We arrived at the Isandhlwana battlefield, and parked our bus. The battlefield itsef is dominated by the geological feature of the mountain after which the battlefield is named. The field itself is dotted with cairns of rocks, all of them whitewashed. These cairns mark the spots where mass graves were dug to bury the dead British soldiers. This killing field is broad, sweeping grassland and the folds in the ground where the Zulus waited until they emerged to attack the totally surprised British troops can easily be seen. We had picked up a Zulu guide who talked us through the battle, explaining what had happened, where it happened, and the consequences. It was as clear a description of a battle as I have ever been privileged to hear.
From here we drove to Rorke’s Drift, only a short drive away. The film was not made here, as certain differences are now obvious which were not here when the battle took place. There is a memorial to the Zulu dead, the commissary is now a church, and the hospital has been rebuilt after being burnt down during the battle.
Many of the battlefield features are now gone but are outlined on the ground. The outer wall is no longer there, but its site is marked out, as is the redoubt, built from mealy bags where the last stand took place and from which the withering fire broke the back of the Zulu attack.
We had lunch there in a small cafe where the food is prepared by Zulu people, descendants of the warriors who fought so ferociously.
From there we drove towards the Drakensberg Mountains, passing Spion Kop, another battlefield, this time from the Boer War. We arrived at our hotel and freshened up before having a drink with our group and then dinner.
Our next destination was Durban, another city where my father had preceded me many years previously. We visited the botanical gardens and spent the night in Durban, taking a domestic flight to Port Elizabeth the next morning. We spent the rest of the morning exploring Port Elizabeth before the ten of us boarded our brand new, shiny and very comfortable 50-seater bus to Tsitsikamma, a spectacular region of hills and gorges. We stopped at Plettenberg Bay, which had taken a battering the day before from a bad storm. The waves were still thundering in, but greatly reduced in height. We then proceeded to Monkeyland, designated as the world’s first free-roaming multi-species primate sanctuary. Now I’m the first to admit that I’m not a fan of monkeys. I do not want monkeys clambering all over me as they are quite likely to steal anything they can grab out of your pockets: your sunglasses, your spectacles, your hat or your camera and, in the worst scenario, take a bite out of you. You do not want to experience a monkey’s bite, believe me. They are not the cute and lovable creatures you see on TV. We passed through Monkeyland, which I nevertheless found interesting despite my apathy towards the primates. Much more fascinating to me was our next stop, a bird sanctuary, a large area where African birds of many species fly free. I had never seen so many birds unknown to me and my camera was kept in constant use. One spectacular bird was the scarlet ibis, so bright that you almost need sunglasses to gaze at its plumage.
Driving to Knysna took us through some wild countryside, though it would get wilder the next day. We spent the night at Knysna Quays, spending the evening with our fellow traveller having dinner and chatting.
The next morning saw us on the way to an ostrich farm. Ostrich farming was very big early in the 20th century as they became a great fashion item on women’s hats, so ostrich farmers became very wealthy and built themselves beautiful houses in the area. I rode an ostrich, and I have the picture to prove it, though I’m not going to post it here. We also watched an ostrich race, with two riders clinging on for dear life. We also learned that ostrich eggs taste pretty much like hens’ eggs, just much, much larger. An omelette made from one ostrich egg would provide a meal for 18 people, we were told.
The Cango Caves were also on our itinerary, very large and awe-inspiring with displays of stalactites and stalagmites. I can never resist visiting a cave whenever I get the chance, and I won’t have too many opportunities to visit caves in Africa.
Our hotel that night was the Hlangana Lodge, which was one of the prettiest hotels I’ve ever stayed at. The rooms were set in an arc, facing a magnificent garden with a swimming pool. We sat out on the lawn reading and relaxing until it was time to shower and get ready for dinner.
We took the scenic route to Capetown the next day. I regretted the fact that we were only going to spend one night at Hlangana as it was so beautiful. We drove through the Breede River Valley en route, and then through the Little Karoo, two amazingly diverse regions. There is a Large Karoo in the north and they are semi-desert regions. The Little Karoo had wonderful hills and valleys, while wild flowers grew in rich profusion on the valley floors. It was clear to see why the road we took was called the scenic route.
After a few hours we were able to make out the shape of Table Mountain rising out of the haze in the distance. We drove into Capetown, winding through the city until we came to our hotel in Sea Point, sitting in the shadow of the famed Lion Head Rock.
The Cape Peninsula is a great place to explore. We drove down to the Cape of Good Hope - the southernmost tip of the African continent. We looked to the south, knowing there was nothing between us and Antarctica except ocean. Cape Point is a wild but beautiful place. We drove back up to Hout Bay where we took a boat out to Seal Island. The water was rough once we left the protection of the harbour behind, but we sailed out to the island where seals in their hundreds gathered, some basking in the warmth of the sun, some hunting in the sea and a few came out to stare inquisitively at our boat. Turning the boat around in those thundering waves for the return journey took skilled seamanship but we were in safe hands and made it back to the dockside without incident.
Our next stop was the Boulders Beach penguin colony, home to the African penguin. Somebody had the clever idea of building a wooden walkway raised above the beach which allows the visitor to stroll around studying the penguins and taking any photos you want without disturbing the birds in the slightest. We saw mating penguins, penguins holding their eggs on their feet, baby penguins and schools of young ones.
That afternoon came the event I had been anticipating for many years, ever since I had seen my father’s photos of Table Mountain, taken from the deck of HMS Frobisher during the war. We drove up to the base of the mountain and took the cable car to the summit. I was surprised to see that the floor of the cars revolved so that wherever you stand you see the entire panorama from the rock face to the bay and Robben’s Island. We had a beautiful clear day and the view was so vast it was overwhelming.
At the top, and it’s not quite as flat as it appears from down below, paths wind around the summit so getting around is not difficult. From one side you can gaze down over the whole of Capetown and the bay, from the other you look out over the Atlantic. Wild flowers grow in a profusion of colours. If you look down on the Atlantic side you can see rocks and small islands washed by the intense blue of the ocean. Sea birds screamed over our heads as we walked the length of the summit. Up this high, the noises of Capetown were silenced, only the wind and the birds could be heard.
On the way back to the hotel we stopped at a diamond cutting centre where we were given a briefing on the diamond industry and were able to watch diamond cutters at work. We were shown a display of jewellery (we were invited to buy, natch) and told about various other African gemstones such as Tanzanite, a beautiful, blue stone which is found only in Tanzania. The deposits of Tanzanite are running out so unless more deposits are found, the existing stones are going to grow in value.
The following day, our last full day was spent driving the Wine Route, stopping at a number of vineyards to taste their products. We arrived in Stellenbosch in time for lunch and explored this old university town, before returning towards Capetown, stopping at a couple more vineyards and the Huguenaut Museum in Franschhoek. The wines were uniformly excellent and varied. We tried the uniquely South African blend called Pinotage which was new to us
That evening we had a farewell dinner at the Afrika Cafe. The menus were unique – they were printed into the glazing of the water jugs placed on the tables. The meal was excellent but tinged with a little sadness as we knew we would be saying farewell to the friends we had made in the group and to the ever cheerful and capable Elsebe.
The next day we were free until our evening flight so we decided to visit Robben’s Island, the prison where Nelson Mandela spent so many years. With another couple in the group we had booked the boatride the day before, but we were warned that there was a forecast of strong winds and this weather could cause the ferry to be cancelled. And, sadly, this proved to be the case. So we went for a walk around the quays and the warehouses, which have been turned into shops, restaurants and cafes. Disappointing, of course, but we consoled ourselves with an original oil painting done in the colours of the Bushveld.
All too soon it was time to return to the hotel, pick up our luggage and board the bus for the airport, where we bid fond goodbyes to our fellow travellers.

 

[BillB]

And so, for those faithful readers who have stuck with me thus far, we are now up to date with our wanderings. Of course, we have reservations for our next one in September. It occurred to us that though we had been to the East Coast of the US and many times to the West Coast, the bit in between is terra incognita to us. We have always fancied a long journey by train, so we are going to travel coast to coast from New York to San Francisco, taking in Washington, DC, Chicago, the Rocky Mountain National Park, the Grand Canyon (even though we’ve seen it once), Monument Valley, a variety of other sites in the Southwest, then on to Los Angeles. From there, we take the Californian Zephyr to San Francisco. We’ve extended our stay in SF so that we can spend a week with Claire and Terry at the end.
Other than that our plans are wide open. We’re not ready to become stay-at-homes just yet, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that the world is a beautiful place and there’s an awful lot I haven’t seen yet. So we’ll keep on the move as long as age, health and funds permit.
And the best tip I can give to any other travellers? Never fry bacon in the nude.

 

[BillB]

While sitting here revelling in the improvement in my vision after the cataract surgery I had on Friday, I was going through some of my travel images. Just thought I'd post a few.

 

[BillB]

And a few more.[attachment=2]

 

[BillB]

And the last two.

 

[BillB]

This time I'm genuinely asking for advice and suggestions. Next year, in November, Jackie and I will be celebrating our 50th wedding anniversary. Usually we celebrate with a trip somewhere - in the past it's been the Far East, Tahiti, Penang, France, etc. However, this year we'd like to do something special and different. I'm out of ideas at the moment, so I'm open to suggestions from the friendly posters here. Bearing in mind that at the time we will be travelling it will be winter in the northern hemisphere and, as I learned to my cost in Tibet, I'm prone to altitude sickness and do not acclimatise, we are open to any ideas that take these into account.
Anything that you can come up with will be gratefully received and everything will be given serious consideration. Help!

 

[BillB]

Just thought I would bring the journal up to date as I've got a while before I start cooking dinner.
Last year we took a train across the US, from New York to San Francisco. And for once I kept a daily diary and was conscientious about it. Herewith it is presented in all its shaky glory.

Across America by train 2010
We had been looking forward to this trip, crossing the US from East Coast to West Coast by train, taking in some of the most spectacular scenery the country has to offer. We enjoy train travel as it’s far less taxing than flying, and you get to see the scenery along the way.
We left home fairly early as our flight from Luxembourg to Gatwick left at 7.20 am. It was on time and actually arrived early, but our car to take us from Gatwick to Heathrow was a little late. Needn’t have worried, though, as we had enough time for a snack in the lounge before we boarded our flight to New York.
This flight, too, went smoothly and we landed at JFK on time and in good spirits.Got through immigration formalities easily and met our guide and other travellers in the airport concourse at JFK. On the way to the Beacon Hotel on Broadway our bus clipped a taxi. Just a smear of black on the taxi but the taxi driver gave his name and address but wouldn’t give details of his insurance. Our driver called the police and we had to wait and wait until the police arrived. When he arrived he was on horseback. He didn’t even need to dismount, the problem was sorted and we were soon checking into our hotel.
We went into the hotel restaurant for dinner and had an extremely nice grilled halibut, then fell into bed.
15 September
Had a good breakfast in the hotel restaurant with really tasty sausages and fried eggs. Then we took off for a bus tour of Manhattan. Went uptown to Harlem, then past Central Park to midtown and thence down to Ground Zero. Saw the buildings where Michael Douglas lives and the one where Jackie Kennedy lived, as well as the Dakota Building where John Lennon lived and was shot. After that we went back to the hotel, afterwards taking a walk towards Central Park. Had a pleasant lunch at an Italian restaurant, then went on to Central Park where we strolled around the boating lake, taking pictures of the terrapins that were sunning themselves. Took a slow walk back to the hotel where we crashed for a couple of hours. Went along to have dinner in a Chinese restaurant called Fatty Crab, but it seemed terribly noisy so we walked to a restaurant we had seen earlier called the Mughlai where we enjoyed an extremely good Indian meal. Walked back to our hotel.
16 September
We had a free day today so we took the subway to Battery Park and caught the boat to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. We didn’t get off at the Statue of Liberty as the security was pretty strict and we couldn’t get into the statue. We got off at Ellis Island to tour the museum. Had a quick lunch first and did the tour of the museum, taking in the film covering the history of the migration to the US. Very interesting.
Took the the subway back to the hotel, where a big storm erupted which was mightily impressive from the 8th floor of our hotel. Next morning we found it had been a tornado but we were lucky enough to be on the edge of it, though areas nearby were quite badly hit. Went out to dinner at the Italian restaurant where we’d had lunch on our first day. A very satisfying meal of high quality.
17 September
Early(ish) start as we had to take the train to Washington DC. Left the hotel and wound our way through the early morning traffic to Penn Station. Passed the Hotel Pennsylvania (where we had stayed in 2004) and took our train to Washington. Very comfortable train, electric sockets for our computer, cafe car where we bought some coffee. Arrived in Union Central around midday. The station itself is very impressive with Doric columns and marble statues. We went down to the lower level where the food court is situated and had lunch in Taco Bell – three tacos apiece, and rather good. Then our guide took us on a tour of Washington DC, which is a magnificent city of monumental design. We stopped at the Capitol, the WW2 memorial, the Lincoln Memorial, which is spectacular and the Korean War memorial.
Drove to Arlington, taking in the Iwo Jima memorial along the way and checked into our hotel, the Radisson. Had dinner in the hotel restaurant as we were too whacked to go out searching for somewhere to eat. We had the crab cakes, which were excellent.
18 September
We decided to spend this free day at the Smithsonian Museum of the American Indian. We met a couple from our group and we decided to share a taxi into DC. Our taxi didn’t turn up so we ordered another but in the meantime a car turned up which we all climbed into and realised underway that it wasn’t a real taxi. In DC he tried to charge us $25 but we made him a counter offer of $15, which he accepted.
The Indian museum was a wonderful experience. The building itself is beautiful, designed to look like the rocks in the American Southwest. We went to the fourth floor where a film is shown to introduce the viewer to the American Indian way of life. An incredible experience as the film was shown on screens in the middle of the amphitheatre, while more film was projected onto the dome above and the rocks below the screens.
The museum restaurant is famous as it features items from American Indian recipes so we took lunch there. I had buffalo-meat chili and Jackie had a taco on fry bread (not to be confused with fried bread) which was pretty nice. After lunch we headed for the Crime and Punishment Museum, which was quite a hefty walk, but worth it as the museum itself was really interesting.
Took a taxi back to the hotel where we collapsed, exhausted, and later took dinner in the hotel restaurant as we were too tired to bother going out and looking for a restaurant.
19 September
We had to be on the bus by 2 pm, so we decided to have a walk around Crystal City, where the hotel was situated, and see what kind of shops and restaurants were there. Stopped off and had a coffee then walked a bit more and decided to have lunch in a large restaurant which served Spanish tapas. We had a pretty good lunch of assorted cheeses, gazpacho, watermelon with tomato, mushrooms and mussels.
Got back to the hotel and had time to relax in the lobby before our bus arrived to drive us to Union Station where we caught our overnight train to Chicago. We were glad that we’d upgraded to a bedroom rather than a roomette, because we had our own toilet and shower. We had dinner in the diner, nothing could be finer than the shrimps I had and the roasted half chicken that Jackie had. Our overnight was comfortable, but I kept waking up and dropping off to sleep again.
We had breakfast after showering, though the breakfast was a cold meal as it was so early – we had to be seated before 6 a.m.
20 September
Arrived in Chicago and were taken on a conducted bus tour of the city. We were very impressed by the Windy City as it has beautiful buildings and is very clean and orderly (shades of Al Capone). Checked into our hotel, the Affinia, had lunch and booked for a boat trip on the Chicago River.
This cruise, was immensely interesting, as our guide had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the buildings we passed, giving us the name of each structure’s architect and pointing out details of interest in the finish or the structure. Great for us as we were off our feet, and highly entertained as we learnt more about Chicago than we would have otherwise.

21 September
Went to the top of the John Hancock building to view the surroundings from the observatory. The views were amazing – in the city we could see the Trump building and the Sears Building, which only a few years ago had been the tallest building in the world, as well as many other outstanding structures. From another side we could see the Navy Pier and out over the lake.
We had lunch in the hotel then took a coach to the station where we took the overnight train to Denver
22 September
This train was more modern than our previous one, with an improved layout in the sleeping compartment and the shower/toilet. We arrived rather later than planned and were immediately whisked onto a bus and given a tour of Denver. Denver itself, is a rather uninteresting town, but we didn’t actually spend much time there. During our city tour Jacky was able to call Miriam, an old friend from our days in Germany who nowlives in Boulder, Colorado, and tell her that we had arrived. When we got to the hotel she was waiting for us, so after we checked in she drove us to a restaurant called Strings where she treated us to lunch – and a very good restaurant it was.
For the rest of the afternoon we went to a mall (where Jacky bought a couple of pairs of trousers) and we enjoyed catching up with the news. After Miriam departed we relaxed in our room for a couple of hours before having spare ribs (excellent) in the hotel restaurant.
23 September
Took a big outing today to the Rocky Mountains National Park. How can you describe the Rockies? There was a sprinkling of early snow on the higher peaks and the dramatic clouds added to the beauty of the scenery. We had tacos for lunch in a small town whose name is forgotten with John and Jackie, another couple on the trip. Suffered from altitude sickness, as usual in the mountains, but recovered as we descended.
Later on we had dinner in Applebees (with the same couple again) and then went to Target with J & J to buy lunch for our next day’s train journey.
24 September
A very early start this morning as we had to catch the California Zephyr for an 8 hour train ride to Grand Junction. The train followed the course of the Colorado River, which was in view on one side of the train or the other for almost the whole journey. Once again the scenery was unbelievably beautiful, with the highlight being Glenwood Canyon.
Had a small tour of Grand Junction and a welcome drink in the hotel. Our room had an incredible view of the mesas outside, which turned purple in the light of the setting sun. Absolutely lovely..
25 September
The bus picked us up earlyish this morning (8 am) and drove us to Silverton. The drive was somewhat hair-raising as we wended our way up an incredibly beautiful gorge with sheer drops at the edge of the road. The aspens were turning to gold and they were sprinkled in among the fir trees so that the mountain sides were like a green and gold mosaic. The sky was absolutely cloudless, a blue that you only see in the mountains. We arrived in Silverton, had lunch and a stroll around the town, just like the towns in Western films. Although Silverton was over 11,000 feet, I didn’t suffer as much from altitude sickness as the day in Denver. I didn’t walk around much, conserved my energy and drank lots of water and barely noticed the height.
We boarded the ancient train with its historic locomotive and began the three and a half hour journey to Durango. We followed the river down a gorge that had the most amazing landscapes. For one stretch we had a sheer drop to the bottom of the gorge on the left and on the right a cliff that led up to the mountain peaks. Again the colours, the sky and the river made the scenery mesmerising.
We checked into our hotel, then freshened up and went out for a Chinese meal. And that was pretty good, too.
26 September
We drove from Durango to Monument Valley, where so many Westerns have been made. Just outside Durango we passed the Twin Buttes, the geological feature that plays a part in the James Michener book Centennial. The approach to the Monument Valley area is startling as the rock buttresses could be seen standing out from a flat desert landscape for miles before we arrive. We transferred to a 4-wheel drive vehicle for a drive through the national park, driven by a real Navajo Indian. This is an area that is as breathtaking in its way as the Grand Canyon. These rock buttes stand over 1000 feet high in places. The red desert, the intensely blue sky and the shadows cast by the rock formations made for some dramatic views.
From there we drove to Flagstaff, Arizona, but 75miles from our destination there was an almighty bang and our bus began swerving around as the driver fought to bring the bus under control. He was finally able to pull over and stop. A rear tyre had blown and was completly shredded. The only person able to turn out on a Saturday night with a hydraulic wrench was in Flagstaff. We waited over an hour until he arrived and changed the wheel. By the time we arrived at our hotel we were several hours late. We were all exhausted.
27 September
This morning we drove to the Grand Canyon, that most dramatic of all geological features. We had visited it before, but the impression never lessens – it is still dramatic, majestic, spectacular and immense.

 

[BillB]

28 September
Today’s trip was to Walnut Creek Canyon to view the rock dwellings of a tribe of Indians. This was not a very interesting spot and we were left there for two hours, which was about one and a half hours too long. After that we drove to Sedona where we had lunch and explored this lovely little desert town. We could have done with more time here and less atWalnut Creek.
We returned to Flagstaff where we caught the Southwest Chief train to LA for an overnight journey.
29 September
Amazingly the train was on time arriving at Flagstaff and arrived in LA an hour early. We had breakfast at 6 am and then read for a while until we arrived. After our luggage was loaded onto the bus we were given a conducted tour of LA. We did the usual things, the Chinese Theatre, the Kodak Theatre, Sunset Boulevard, Wilshire Bvd, Hollywood Bvd, etc. We saw the old site where Dino’s bar used to be (see 77 Sunset Strip) and various other spots. Checked into our hotel, the Angeleno, and crashed for the afternoon, after Skyping with our friends in California, Claire and Terry.
30 September
Up bright and early to catch the train, the Coastal Starlight, from LA to San Francisco. It was a long journey, 11 hours, up the Californian coast. We had lunch and dinner on the train, read our Kindles and watched the passing scenery. We arrived in Oakland where our bus was waiting to take us to our hotel. We arrived around 11 pm, checked in quickly and rapidly fell into bed and were both unconscious within seconds.
1 October
Had a reasonable start to the day, leaving the hotel at 8.30 am for a tour of SF. Having been here many times before there was little that was new, but we enjoyed it nevertheless as it’s one of our favourite cities. Returned to the hotel to sort out our internet connection before heading out for Fisherman’s Wharf where we had a crab roll each for lunch. Toured a submarine and a Liberty ship from WW2 after lunch, then looked for a pharmacy to buy some odds and ends.
Had dinner at Aliotto’s, which was excellent, though the restaurant was full and we had to have a drink at the bar until a table came free.
2 October
Off to Muir Woods and Sausalito this morning. The fog was quite thick in SF, but it began to clear up as we approached Muir Woods. These giant redwoods never cease to amaze. These trees are so big that it’s impossible to photograph them. The woods themselves are really beautiful, and seem to absorb the noise of all the people passing through.
Spent a couple of hours in Sausalito and enjoyed it immensely, as we always do – window shopping and taking pictures of the surroundings, Angel Island, the San Francisco skyline, Alcatraz.
Arrived at the hotel and put our feet up for an hour or so. We were going to spend a week with Claire and Terry after our tour ended. They were going to spend a couple of nights with us in SF before driving us back to their home and they were due to to arrive at the hotel that afternoon. They arrived on time and checked in where we had a wonderful reunion. Claire had reserved a table at a restaurant called The Franciscan on Fisherman’s Wharf which proved to be an outstanding meal. The menu was of great interest as it was, to all intents, a cookbook as well, giving the recipes for the dishes on offer. We asked if we could have one but they didn’t have any to spare at that moment, but Claire phoned them up after we had left California and they promised to send one to us in Luxembourg. And it duly arrived.
3 October
We decided that in view of the damp, foggy weather we would leave for Aptos this morning, so we sought out our fellow railway travellers and wished them a sad farewell. They had been a pretty good lot and we had all got along really well. Exchanged email addresses with John and Jackie with whom we had shared many a meal along the way.
Got to Aptos and crashed for a couple of hours, then I volunteered to cook dinner – spaghetti bolognese. Went along to Safeways with Claire and bought the ingredients.
4 October
Claire drove us to Carmel to do a bit of shopping and to look for a couple of spoon rests, which seem to have become totally absent from the shops. We found a couple in Sur La Table but the prices were so outrageous that we didn’t buy.
Had lunch at Tarpy’s, one of our favourite restaurants, which lived up to its tradition of fine dining once more. We did a bit of searching for Tilley hats in some nearby shops as I had a yen for a grey one, but we couldn’t find one in the right style, size or colour, so we gave up on that idea.
5 October
Went with Claire to Costco, which is always interesting, but didn’t buy anything. Left Claire to go into Capitola to see if any Tilley hats were to be found, but there weren’t. Had lunch at a little coffee shop in Aptos, then passed the afternoon on the computer and reading.
Claire’s doing a barbecue tonight of spare ribs and I’m going to do the vegetables so I trotted off to the nearby Safeways to choose which ones to cook. Their neighbours started arriving and a good time was had by all, with lots of Californian wine.
6 October
Claire had made reservations for a two-day trip to Yosemite. This was one of those destinations we kept vowing to make, but never actually got around to making.We left early with all four of us in Claire’s new car. We had a very comfortable drive, stopping off at one point for a coffee and a pastry, (one of those rare treats I allow myself).
After we arrived at the entrance of Yosemite National Park we headed for the Ahwahnee Lodge where she had reserved a table for lunch. This is quite a historic hotel and is a striking building with granite facade and beamed ceilings. The dining room was enormous with floor to ceiling windows that gave a fantastic view of the surrounding valley. Lunch was outstanding and the whole experience forming one of those once-in-a-lifetime experiences which will stay in the mind forever.
After we left the hotel we spent the afternoon driving through Yosemite Valley, photographing the amazing scenery – mountains, waterfalls, forests and streams. Rearing up from the sides of the valley are the granite walls of the surrounding mountains. The sky was slowly clouding over and a thin drizzle began to fall. About 4 in the afternoon we finally gave up and drove to the Yosemite Best Western where Claire had reserved rooms for us all, where we arrived in pouring rain and darkness. Claire had packed some goodies so we had dinner in their room, then returned to our own one for a couple of hours’ TV before turning in.
7 October
After breakfast at the hotel we drove back to Yosemite and headed for Glacier Point. The weather had cleared up and we were treated to blue skies and dramatic billows of clouds. After we parked the car, we walked to the lookout point which has to be one of the most spectacular views in the world. The visitor is on top of a mountain, the sides of which drop practically virtually down to Yosemite Valley. Across the valley we had breathtaking views of the noted landmark, the Half Dome, which is a solid pillar of granite, topped with a dome, which appears to have broken in half. It is gignatic and dominates the whole area. To the right of the Half Dome we could see several waterfalls dropping into the bed of the valley, an amazing sight as we were miles away from them yet still they were clearly visible against the granite mountainsides. Moving along to the left we turned a corner and found that gazing downwards we could see the Ahwahnee Lodge, so many thousands of feet below us that it looked more like a model than a real hotel. Cars in the car park were little more than dots. Once again, our cameras worked overtime. We dropped into the coffee shop at Glacier Point for a quick brew before wending our way slowly towards the exit where we were going to leave the park.
We stopped for a late lunch, actually a cross between lunch and dinner as it was nearer 4 p.m. We were so glad that the weather had been kind to us today as it’s not every day that one gets to visit Yosemite – the hotels get booked up very, very quickly.
When we got home we unpacked and then went out for dinner to our favourite Mexican restaurant – they serve a killer Margarita, and their tacos and fajitas are pretty good, too. Though, sadly, my diabetes means that I have to take them in small quantities.
The rest of the week passed quickly, I went for my usual brisk walk along the local beaches each morning, did some shopping, and then it was time to pack and for Claire and Terry to drive us to the airport.
We said another sad farewell, but comforted ourselves with the knowledge that they are flying over to Luxembourg this year and we’ve booked a house in Provence for a couple of weeks. We’ll take them to see the Papal Palace in Avignon, the Fontaine de Vaucluse where Cousteau and his friend Dumas almost lost their lives diving into the underwater chambers that prompts the siphon that pumps water from the underground river into the river aboveground. Who knows, we might even make it to Marseille where we can visit the Chateau d’If, where the Count of Monte Cristo was incarcerated for many long years.

 

[BillB]

I'm now able to post a few images from our trans-US trip last year.

 

[BillB]

It’s nice to have friends, and it’s even nicer when those friends invite you to visit them. So when those friends live in Colorado but spend the winter in their home in Florida the invitation to visit them during the cold months is irresistible. We have been friends with Miriam since 1964. Even after she left Germany we’ve stayed in touch and she’s been to visit us several times – the last time with her sister, Madeleine.
Last year, when we visited Denver on our across-America-by-train journey, she came to our hotel and took us out to lunch. Her parting words when she dropped us off at the hotel were to come and visit her and her husband in Florida. Once we arrived back home we emailed her to arrange dates and in short order had booked our flights to Tampa for mid-March. The winter had seemed cold and endless and we were happy when our departure date rolled around and we were on our way across the Atlantic.
As we descended near Tampa airport, our aircraft flew between the most magnificent thunderheads I had ever seen. They towered above us in great billowing masses, lit from the side by the setting sun. Their colours varied from pure white to dark, threatening, grey. We would hear more from them later that night.
Miriam and Jack live on the west coast of the Florida peninsula so the drive from Tampa Airport to their condo was not too long. We stopped off for something to eat along the way and then it was on to their home. The accommodation they had for us was probably the most splendid way of staying with friends you can possibly think of. They own two condos, joined together like semi-detached houses in the UK. They live in one and the other is for the use of their friends. We had our own bedroom, living room, bathroom and kitchen. We sat around chatting with our hosts for a while, then unpacked and collapsed into bed.
That night I was woken by violent thunderclaps and the room being lit up by flashes of lightning. The rain was heavy at times, keeping us awake for a while. Those beautiful thunderheads were now on full song directly above our heads. By the morning the rain had reduced to a drizzle but we didn’t see much in the way of Florida sunshine. Miriam drove us to the nearest supermarket to stock up on necessities.
That was a Wednesday morning. Jack had reserved a car for us at Enterprise Hire which we were due to pick up on Saturday. We spent the intervening days with Miriam driving us to local places of interest. One of these was the Chihuly Museum in St Petersburg. Dale Chihuly is a sculptor in glass and his creations will really blow your mind away. They are big, often 6 feet high and he sometimes achieves an ethereal beauty which can conjure up strange worlds and shapes. The one that really captured my heart was called Ruby Red Icicle Chandelier. To see it, simply type that name into Google and you will some pictures of it and of some of his other designs.
After we had finished in the museum we went for lunch to a restaurant on the pier called The Columbia – a Cuban restaurant which both Miriam and Jack recommended. It was our first time trying Cuban food and we thoroughly enjoyed our meal.
Our admission ticket to the Museum was also valid for a visit to the atelier where many of his creations are produced, so that was our next stop after lunch. I never cease to be amazed at the intricacy of working in glass – even down to cooling the figures down very slowly to prevent the stresses built up in the cooling process from destroying the piece.
When we picked up our car we had the freedom to drift around the Tampa Bay area, leaving Miriam and Jack to get with their normal routines. We still went out with them from time to time and Miriam and I went for a swim in the morning or for a walk on the beach. Miriam isn’t diabetic but she has swum regularly for years and I like to get in a swim or a good walk every morning.
Miriam had arranged with her sister Madeleine that the three of us would drive across the Florida peninsula to stay with her for a few days. Madeleine had worked for many years for the Disney organisation in Orlando and could visit Disneyland and the other attractions free of charge with guests (us) so off we set. Madeleine’s husband, Wayne, has been diabetic for many years so we had a certain amount in common. Their house was beautiful with a classic-styled interior and the whole was designed in a way that would cost an arm and a leg in Europe. We were most impressed.
That evening we trundled off to an Indian restaurant nearby and had a superb meal. The restaurant was very popular and when my dish arrived I could see why.
The next day Madeleine drove us to Epcot where we all entered free of charge. We were getting spoiled here and spent a wonderful day. When we got home, thoroughly exhausted, I made mushroom omelettes for everybody. I enjoy cooking so much that after eating the meal I felt reinvigorated and almost ready to go again – but not quite.
The next day Miriam had to return home as she had a meeting scheduled with other charity workers, so she took the bus and Jackie and I headed for Cape Canaveral to visit the Kennedy Space Centre.
We found a hotel in Titusville for the next two nights. The next morning we headed straight for the Space Centre, hoping to get there early enough to beat the rush – which we did. I think we enjoyed this visit even more than the one to Epcot. There are so many exhibits covering the many aspects of NASA’s activities that we found immensely absorbing. We went to an IMAX 3D film covering the Discovery shuttle missions. I love IMAX films and wish we had an IMAX cinema in Luxembourg. We had a quick lunch while we were there and then caught a shuttle bus that took us around the launch pads. We passed one that was working on preparing the rockets and the space shuttle for the next space shot. They didn’t let us off the bus there, sadly.
A nice thing was that the tickets for Kennedy are valid for 2 days, so the next day we returned to ride the space launch simulator. Before we entered the shuttle we were shown a film in which astronauts assured us that it was the nearest thing to riding a launch without actually going into space. We strapped ourselves into a reproduction of the Discovery space shuttle, waited while a man came around and checked that we were secure and then waited for the launch. I’m sure there are readers on here who have experienced this, but for those who haven’t you should definitely give it a try if you’re ever there. Once you’re strapped in, the doors close and you’re in the cargo bay of a space shuttle. After the countdown the fuel starts to flow and you feel a slight vibration, then there’s an explosion as the fuel ignites and the vibration becomes more intense. Through the windows you can see the water vapour and flames reaching up as high as you are situated then just as quickly your vehicle lifts off the pad. The rocket’s acceleration is so fast that you get a definite kick in the back. The vibration gets worse until it feels as if your skin is going to be shaken off your body. Despite my knowledge that I was safely on the ground, my senses were telling me that I was in a rocket heading into space. Without warning there was a loud bang and the shuttle shook crazily for a second – the first stage of the rocket had been jettisoned and the second stage kicked in, giving us another kick in the back and another buildup of vibrations. At 17,500 mph the engines shut down and the external tank is jettisoned. You are now floating in low earth orbit and all is silent, the vibrations have stopped. The cargo bay doors above you open up silently to reveal that most beautiful of sights – the blue and white orb that is our home planet, floating serenely in the blackness of space. You ponder the unbelievable view for a few minutes before the doors close, the lights come on and it’s time to unbuckle and climb out of your seat.
Next to the simulator is a hall where a Saturn V rocket is suspended horizontally. Having only seen these rockets on TV I hadn’t the faintest idea of their size until I walked underneath it here. I was staggered by its immensity, stretching off into the distance as it appeared to do.
Everything seemed anticlimactic after that experience so we strolled around for a while and then left for the Astronaut Hall of Fame, which is not far away and gives an insight into the lives and experiences of those men and women who have ridden into space. There are several examples of the capsules they rode in orbit around the Earth and explanations of the physics involved in space flight.
We left to begin the drive westwards across the Florida peninsula to Tampa Bay, stopping on the way for a bite to eat, and arrived back at Miriam and Jack’s in late afternoon.
The night before flying back we invited our hosts to dinner at a nearby Red Lobster restaurant. We have eaten in other branches of this chain before and the food has always been excellent. As we were all seafood lovers it seemed an appropriate choice, and so it proved. We all had an excellent meal of lobsters, shrimp and crab which was cooked superbly.
The next day we packed our bags and Miriam and Jack drove us to Tampa Airport for our return flight.
The question of the best way to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary has now been solved. Neither of us having been to Canada, that is our destination – we fly to Vancouver and travel through the Rockies by train, ending at Niagara Falls. There’s an awful lot of firsts for us in that trip and we’re looking forward to it in the autumn.

 

[BillB]

Having lived within a few miles of the Maginot Line since the early ‘70s I really have no excuse for never having visited any of its redoubts, tunnels, emplacements or fortresses. I had made a couple of half-hearted attempts to look up any items of interest on the internet, but mostly they were closed and would only open for visitors on appointment.
Then, out of the blue, my son called and told me about the Hackenberg Fortress, about a 40 minute drive away. He had discovered that it was open for visitors, that he and his wife were going there the next week and would we like to join him. The answer was an immediate yes and so a week later we were climbing into his car and heading off to the French village of Veckring where the fortress is situated.
The Maginot Line was built after the First World War by the French government along its borders with Germany and Italy. Its purpose was to hold up any putative German invasion long enough to allow the French army to be mobilized. As it turned out, Nazi Germany grew into a very real threat much sooner than anyone anticipated and when they did invade in May 1940, the Maginot Line was only partially completed and the Nazis passed around it and fanned out to advance across France.
When we arrived at the fortress, there were a couple of cars in the car park and a bus just pulling in. When we walked to the ticket office the staff explained apologetically that they were not able to offer tours in English at the present time. No problem, we told them, we’ll take either the French or German tour, whichever was soonest. And thus we found ourselves among a group of French tourists, exploring a French fortress, being conducted around by a French lady who also spoke German.
Our lady guide started off the tour by showing us a large wall map which showed the layout of the fort and its situation. There are over 5 miles of tunnels and the whole fortress was, in effect, an underground city. We had entered through the ammunition entrance and began walking through the tunnels, coming first to a blast door which was permanently attended by a soldier whose sole job was to be ready to close the blast door in the event of fire. There were around 75,500 shells stored in the fortress, so fire was a much feared threat.
There were kitchens, bathrooms, bedrooms, hospitals, food storage cells, cold rooms, ventilation rooms, electricity generator, workshops – in fact, everything necessary to keep Hackenberg as a fighting redoubt. We walked along a stretch of tunnel, marvelling at the sheer amount of work that had gone into this underground creation. The fortress, we were told, could have withstood a 3 month siege without being resupplied.
After about half an hour we came to a small electric train which we were all invited to board. The origins of this train was to move supplies, ammunition and men around the miles of tunnels. Passenger carriages have now replaced the flatbeds that transported the equipment and munitions and we clambered into them for a ride to the outer limits of the tunnel.
We made short stops along the way to explore some of the barracks, sick bays and the hospital. Some of these have been fitted out with some original equipment so the visitor can see exactly what an operating room was like, or the officers’ bedrooms.
Eventually, we arrived at Block 9 which was fitted with 3 rapid fire 75 mm guns. The mechanism to aim the guns is still operational and the guide obviously enjoyed the chance of demonstrating how the guns were raised and lowered. We then trooped outside where we were able to see the guns muzzles as they were readied for firing.
After that it was back to the train and the long ride back to the entrance.
This was an experience that we found full of interest and would repay a visit to any member of the family, young or old.
On a slightly different note, but still sticking to the historical point of view we drove out to Malbrouck Castle, another site near us. We had been out there a couple of times and found that there were several car parks – the upper one is closest to the castle’s entrance and the others lower down, leaving visitors with a steep walk uphill. Each time we had been we found the upper one was full and Jackie didn’t fancy the uphill walk, as her arthritic knee is not fond of steep slopes. Our son, however, told us that there was an exhibition of work by Robert Doisneau, a French photographer who worked from the 1930s to the 1990s.
We drove out again and this time discovered that the upper car park had spaces, and that there was also a bus to pick up visitors from the lower car parks. We were spoiled for choice, but parked in the upper one.
Malbrouck Castle was built in the 15th century but was little more than ruins by the end of the 20th century. A recent programme of restoration has resulted in a beautiful walled castle that is worth a visit from anyone with even the slightest interest in ancient buildings.
The entrance fee is €7, which includes the photography exhibit. It’s difficult to say which is the more engaging, the castle itself or Robert Doisneau’s pictures. He worked for many publications, including Vogue, but he also worked in the coal mining and steel producing region of Lorraine, so his pictures cover as wide a range as any photographer before or since. His work ranges from high fashion to high society, from coal and steel workers to street kids.
The castle has a tower at each corner, with three of them dedicated to the photography exhibit while the fourth holds a history of the renovation of the entire structure. Between the towers the visitor walks along the ramparts to the next tower, thus completing a circumnavigation of the entire structure.
We spent an absorbing few hours there and made it home in time for a late lunch.
These two destinations are not far apart, so if you’re ever in the Thionville area of France, they would be worth a detour.

 

[BillB]

It just dawned on me recently, as I was skimming through my posts here, that I had omitted a couple of the most pleasant journeys we had made in a long time. In our local newsagent I had been noticing a magazine dedicated to Brittany in all its many facets. I picked up a copy and found that I was fascinated by many of the subjects that were featured. As it was the dead of winter I suggested to Jackie that come the Spring a drive around Brittany might be a pleasant way to kiss winter goodbye. She, as ready as she always is for travelling, immediately agreed.
I got out the maps of France, and maps of specific areas of Brittany, and went onto Google Earth to look at some of the places I fancied visiting. We soon decided that as we were travelling out of the high season we shouldn’t have too much trouble finding hotels, so we thought the best thing was to reserve a hotel for the first couple of nights in St Malo where we intended to spend a few days before heading off for parts unknown, stopping wherever we fancied and could find a hotel with a vacant room.
Soon it came time to load the car, enter St Malo in the TomTom and take off. My first surprise was how smooth the French motorways were. It looked as if the French Transport Ministry had spent the winter resurfacing all of them. They had always been well maintained, but this time the road surface was amazingly smooth.
Prior to leaving I had subscribed to a motorway badge issued by Sanef, one of the French autoroute companies. This is an electronic gadget which sticks to your windscreen and activates the barrier at toll stations. As you approach, you keep over to the left and head for the booth which has a lower case “t” (it’s short for Télépéage). Soon the badge gives a little ping and the barrier swings up and through you go. Every month you get a bill from Sanef listing the times you’ve used the process and it goes straight on to your credit card. It’s advantages are that at busy times the “t” lane is usually empty, at the toll booth you don’t have to fiddle about looking for loose change or getting your credit card out and sliding it into the requisite slot, and you do get a strange feeling of superiority as you sail past the lines of traffic which had passed you earlier.
TomTom brought us straight to our hotel on the seafront, within a couple of hundred metres of the old, walled town. We checked in, unloaded our bags and went for a stroll around the old town. Brittany is a seafood lover’s heaven and we perused the menus outside some of the restaurants. I love almost anything that comes in a shell, whether it’s lobster, crab, shrimp, mussels, oysters, whelks, cockles or any of the myriad creatures that live in the sea or beside it.
We returned to the hotel and put our feet up for a while before scrubbing up and heading out for dinner. When every restaurant is a haven for the shellfish lover, where do you start? We finally settled on a restaurant which had the best situation, and we weren’t disappointed. It doesn’t seem to matter which restaurant you choose in this part of France, you are going to have a memorable meal. I used to get odd looks from the waiters when I ordered red wine with the oysters, but once I explained that I was diabetic and that red wine had less residual sugar, they never raised another eyebrow.
Next morning I sat gazing out the window at the blue sea and the blue sky. Jackie slumbered on as I sat, enchanted at the early-morning colours. We had some coffee and watched the news before descending for breakfast, which was a little difficult for a Type 2 as it consisted of white, crispy baguettes. The upside was that there was a variety of cheeses and hams to go with the bread, so I kept the bread to a minimum and stuffed on the cheese and ham.
After breakfast we went beachcombing until we reached the old town walls, then clambered on top and circumnavigated the town along the walls. St Malo is a beautiful old town and the visitor can spend hours exploring its nooks and crannies, its old streets, its little parks and gardens. In the afternoon we drove to the St Malo aquarium, which had been moved and enlarged since the last time we were there, which had been the mid-70s.
The next day we took the car and turned east, heading for Normandy and Mont St Michel, that magnificent church which rises from the surrounding flat sands and can be seen for miles before the traveller gets there. The last time we were there visitors had to park on the sands but keep a watchful eye on the time as the tide comes in at about the speed of a running man. Forget the time and you’d find your car bobbing merrily about in the bay – until it sank, that is. Now there is a car park where you can leave your car as long as you like as the parking area is raised way above the highest tide level.
We wound our way slowly to the top through the narrow, Mediaeval streets and then climbed the steps up to the church door. As we wandered through the church we marvelled at the labour it must have taken to build this abbey out on the flat sands. Everybody should see Mont St Michel at least once in a lifetime – you will not be disappointed.
The next day we checked out of the hotel and headed westwards along the Brittany coast. We had a vague notion of making for Finisterre, which literally translated means “end of the earth,” or “land’s end”.
We made a detour to Fort La Latte, a magnificent castle set at the end of a rocky peninsula and recognisable to anyone who has seen the Kirk Douglas film The Vikings as the fortress that’s attacked at the climax of the film. Few castles can have such amazing settings – La Latte is surrounded on three sides by the sea which breaks in great washes of foam on the supporting rocks. Inside it’s smaller than the impression given by the film, but we entered by the drawbridge where the Vikings hurled their axes as a support for the athletic Douglas to leap across the gap. I’m always amused by the way seemingly ordinary places can be made to appear so much bigger or more majestic by the artful placing of the camera. Until I climbed the tower and found myself in the area where the final sword fight between Douglas and Tony Curtis takes place, that is. This was so precarious that I couldn’t see how they managed to get both actors, a camera and its crew on this steeply ledged roof and then go through the motions of a vicious fight.
Driving on we stopped at St-Quay-Portrieux at a nice-looking hotel where we received a warm welcome. In the evening we discovered that the hotel restaurant was highly rated, and it was well deserved. I ordered oysters as a starter, but the maître d’hotel apologetically explained that the oysters hadn’t been delivered that day, but asked if we would allow him to present us with something else instead. We agreed and were served a superb dish of shrimps and langoustines, which was not added to our bill as our first choice had not been available. You don’t often get service like that.
We also discovered that the hotel was part of the Logis de France, which is an umbrella organisation for independent hotels. We took one of the catalogues so we could choose a destination and then call ahead and reserve a room. It worked very efficiently.
The next day it was raining so we decided that instead of making for somewhere definite we would drive inland, meandering wherever we fancied. If we espied a place with an intriguing name we would head that way and take a look, if not we would just wander. As a result we saw a lot of Brittany’s interior, which most visitors ignore for the dramatic coast and beaches. We stopped at little villages and towns to view interesting buildings or admire the rolling hills and fields. We paused for a snack lunch in a little village bar washed down by a glass of hearty Breton cider then pressed on, following a roughly circular route that would bring us back to St-Quay-Portrieux and another dinner in that excellent restaurant.

 

[BillB]

The weather had improved immensely the next morning and we looked forward to a good drive to our next hotel. We loaded the car, paid our bill and set off. We stopped for coffee at Paimpol, a pretty little fishing port and took a stroll along the quayside, watching fishermen boning their catch and dropping the resulting fillets into buckets of shaved ice.
We drove on, always heading for Finisterre, stopping for nights at attractive hotels or ones with good recommendations in the Logis Guide. The further west you go, the more dramatic the coast becomes – cliffs, rocks, islets, untouched beaches. Little harbours become homes for yachts and motor cruisers and just sitting on the quayside taking a coffee, or something a little stronger, is a pleasure, enhanced by the briny atmosphere and the cries of the gulls.
We reached Finisterre, known also as the Pointe de Corsen, just northwest of the naval town of Brest. We had driven along the northern coast, passing the scenic inlets, almost like Norwegian fjords. We had stopped to have lunch and afterwards climbed a lighthouse to the very top where we were transfixed by the view along the coast in both directions and over the rocky outcrops out at sea. Beautiful as it is, I wouldn’t be too keen on navigating a small boat in these waters.
Sometimes we stopped at places where we could walk along the beach, sometimes sand, sometimes shingle, stopping to explore rock pools for the variety of marine life – tiny crabs and shrimp, gurnards, the little red fish that abound in the Channel waters, sea anemones and different kinds of seaweed.
After Finisterre we turned south to travel down France’s Atlantic coast, deciding to bypass Brest as it is a large and busy port. From here on the coast changes - there are less rocks and the cliffs are not so high. We stopped off at Douarnenez for a couple of hours then drove on to Concarneau to visit the walled city built on a peninsula. It was off season so that may have been the reason we found parking so easy throughout the trip, and very reasonably priced. We were able to park the car close to the old town and walk through the gates. We drifted along, transported back to more peaceful times, along narrow streets lined with Medieval houses. For lunch we stopped in a small, very pretty café and had a carafe of wine and a galette apiece. We discovered this delight on this trip and loved it for its varieties. It’s basically a large, thin pancake made from buckwheat (ble noir in French, or ‘black wheat’). Buckwheat is very low carb and the galette comes with a base of salad, tomatoes, onion, lettuce, cucumber, etc., topped with your choice of filling – cheese, ham, shrimp, tuna, sardines or whatever local specialities are good that day. The galette is then folded over in a similar manner to a wrap and can be eaten with a knife and fork or simply with your fingers. It’s a diabetics delight as you feel satisfyingly full yet your bg’s remain reassuringly low.
From here we carried on southwards, heading for the little town of St Marc sur Mer which I had wanted to visit ever since I’d learned that Jacques Tati had filmed his comedy classic M. Hulot’s Holiday there. Once again we parked close to the beach and walked down to the Hotel de la Plage, so prominent in the film. I’d hoped to spend the night there, even though I knew that the interiors for the film were not filmed in the hotel itself but in a studio in Paris. Sadly, it was undergoing renovation so that idea was out. A statue of M. Hulot has been placed overlooking the beach which has now been named La Plage de M. Hulot (M. Hulot’s beach). He stands there, gazing down at the beach, hands on his hips, that somewhat ridiculous hat on his head. His long, long legs, which he used to such great effect in creating M. Hulot are slightly apart in a pose so typical of the character. Without doubt M. Hulot has to be one of the great comic creations with his good intentions and his attempts to be helpful that create chaos around him, of which he is totally unaware. And if M. Hulot has a first name, no one has ever found out what it is.
West of St Marc is the town of St Nazaire, famous in Britain as the scene of a daring raid to blow up the lock gates of the great harbour. St Nazaire is another big town and port which we by-passed to head up the Loire. On this last leg of our journey we planned to stop off at some of the great chateaux that are such a feature of this area. We decided to stay at the Hotel St Michel, next to the great Chateau de Chambord which has the most amazing roof you will ever see. The St Michel is a typical French provincial hotel, comfortable and clean with a restaurant of quality. We’ve stayed here before and always take our evening meal in the restaurant as the quality is high and the prices very reasonable. The window of our room looked out on the chateau, only a couple of hundred yards away.
We drove out every morning and visited two, sometimes three of the chateaux which dot the area: Blois, Chaumont and Chenonceau being three among them. Some are large and imposing, others are comparatively small and comfortable looking. All of them are worth a look, though.
On our last morning just as we were doing the last of our packing, I heard a noise which sounded like the burner on a hot air balloon (Jackie had bought me a gift certificate for a trip in a hot air balloon some years previously so I recognised the sound). I stuck my head out of the window and, sure enough, there was a brightly coloured balloon just taking off. What an unbelievable view – to my right Chateau Chambord in all its glory and to my left a balloon with a couple of passengers lifting in front of the rising sun. On such small coincidences are happy journeys built.
Later that morning we saw the downside of modern life – as we approached Chartres, whose beautiful cathedral seems to float just above the ground as you view it from miles away, we came to a veritable forest of wind turbines. And there were dozens more under construction. These great, ugly monstrosities, which serve little practical purpose except to satisfy a noisy bunch of fanatics whose semi-religious beliefs in global warming, are wrecking the views of the cathedral. The French government should be ashamed of what they are doing to their heritage.

 

[ClaireG 06]

Logis are great arn't they I have stayed in several now in different parts of France.