It was a cold but far from a miserable day. We were taking our grandchildren on a tour of the most interesting sites in Paris, the first of which was the Eifel Tower.
We took the overground train, which had double-decker carriages, a first for the girls, to get to the tower.
We took the underground, or Metro, back, and they were fascinated with the fact the train carriages ran on road tires.
Because it was so cold, and windy, the tower was only open to the second level. It was a disappointment to us, but the girls were content to stay on the second level.
There they had the French version of chips.
It was a dull day, but the views were magnificent.
Ah, the memories of a long bygone past, you know, those days when we were allowed to leave the country, those days where nearly every other country in the world was safe, not a haven for an invisible virus that can kill as easily as a thug shooting you with a gun.
The end result is the same. You die, or end up far worse after than you did before.
And the likelihood of travelling any time soon is as distant as Venus.
So, it’s back to reminiscing this from several years ago…
I just spent 26 and a half hours in planes and in airport terminals getting home, and lost two days in the process. The 15th of January just didn’t exist for us.
This is what happens when you fly from Vancouver in Canada to Brisbane Australia, via Shanghai. The thing is, everywhere way, way overseas is a two-stop run. We have to break our journey somewhere, like Singapore, Hong Kong, Bangkok, Shanghai, Abu Dhabi, and for the sake of managing delays at the originating end, we usually end up with a mid airports stay of five to ten hours.
It all means that when you finally arrive in Australia, you are tired, and look it. I feel sorry for the Immigration officials who must rarely see people looking good on their arrival.
This time we were fortunate to get back in the morning. To save being picked up by relatives we arranged for a limousine service, and it worked out well.
I couldn’t say the same for some of the pickup services overseas, but that was more the fault of the travel agent here than anything else.
It only reinforced my thoughts on travel agents, some are excellent, and some are complacent, relying too much on travel wholesalers whose knowledge of the products they sell is appalling.
The original bookings were fine, the agent we used knew her stuff. But she left and someone else took over, and not so good I’m afraid.
However…
On the whole, it was an incredible expedition, from temperatures of 30 plus celsius to temperatures of -21 degrees Fahrenheit, and rarely above 6 degrees Fahrenheit.
The highlight: Lake Louise in Canada. Everyone should see this place in Winter at least once in their lifetime. Certainly, my wife’s 65th birthday, spent there, was something she will never forget.
And the sleigh ride, in -14 or -15 degrees, well, we might be eligible to be declared stark staring mad, but seeing the frozen waterfall was just another of those magical moments that reinforces why we should be preserving the planet, not trying to destroy it.
This was one of the more interesting experiences for the grandchildren as they were, as all young girls are, interested in ballet.
We thoroughly enjoyed our visit which included some time watching ballet practice.
I could not convince anyone to take the elevator back down to the ground floor as it was suspected we might be ‘attacked’ by the ‘phantom’. Certainly, the elevator was very old and I think at the time it was being repaired.
Part of the Grand Staircase in Palais Garnier Opera de Paris
The ceiling above the main staircase. The ceiling above the staircase was painted by Isidore Pils to depict The Triumph of Apollo, The Enchantment of Music Deploying its Charms, Minerva Fighting Brutality Watched by the Gods of Olympus, and The City of Paris Receiving the Plan of the New Opéra.
The ceiling of Chagall at the Palais Garnier
On 23 September 1964, the new ceiling of the Opéra Garnier was inaugurated with great pomp. It was painted by Marc Chagall at the request of André Malraux
Amphitheatre and Orchestra Pit entrance
Interior, and doorways to boxes
Box seats in the auditorium
Ornate ceilings and columns
Seating inside the auditorium
The day we were leaving Paris, was the first night of the Bolshoi Ballet. My two granddaughters were greatly disappointed at missing out on the opportunity of a lifetime, to see the Bolshoi Ballet at the Paris Opera House.
In space, it’s a little difficult to just suddenly stop.
But, given several hundred thousand kilometers, anything is possible.
Especially when there’s a request to divert to Venus.
You can’t always tell when the ship drops out of cruise to what could be considered a dead stop, not that a dead stop is necessarily achievable.
I was down in the mess hall when the call came from the officer of the deck for me to return. I was half way through a half decent cup of coffee, and had just had the donut delivered.
Both now had to be sacrificed.
I looked out the window into the inky blackness of space and it was difficult to say if we were in idle mode. There was, however, another ship just off the port bow, a old cargo ship that had seen better days, and we both looked like we were drifting together.
I suspect that meant we were keeping station, much the same as we would if we were visiting a planet.
I took the elevator and arrived on the bridge where the captain was in earnest conversation with the chief engineer and chief scientist.
He looked up when he saw me approach.
“Ah, number one, there’s a team waiting down on the transport deck. The Aloysius 5 has some vital equipment on board for repairs at the mining colony on Venus, and we’ve been diverted to pick them up and them there post haste.”
“Out of commission?”
“A temporary issue with the drive. We’re sending an engineering team over to help with the repairs and will pick them up on the way back. They should arrive on the deck the same time you will.”
“Yes, sir.”
Should be simple, I thought. Take one of the shuttle craft over, load up, drop the engineers, get back, head for Venus, about 5 hours from out current position. Much the same as a pleasant drive in the country.
And I needed more shuttle time.
In the elevator I was joined by one of the security staff, a gung ho type lieutenant named Andrews. A man always looking for trouble, the sort who would shoot first and ask questions later.
Maybe it was not going to be a pleasant outing after all.
We visited the falls in winter, just after Christmas when it was all but frozen.
The weather was freezing, it was snowing, and very icy to walk anywhere near the falls
Getting photos is a matter of how much you want to risk your safety.
I know I slipped and fell a number of times on the ice just below the snowy surface in pursuit of the perfect photograph. Alas, I don’t think I succeeded.
The mist was generated from both the waterfall and the low cloud. It was impossible not to get wet just watching the falls.
Of course, unlike the braver people, you could not get me into one of the boats that headed towards the falls. I suspect there might be icebergs and wasn’t going to tempt the fate of another Titanic, even on a lesser scale. The water would be freezing.
Mount Ngauruhoe is apparently still an active volcano, has been for 2,500 years or so, and last erupted on 19th February 1975, and reportedly has erupted around 70 times since 1839.
The mountain is usually climbed from the western side, from the Mangatepopo track.
This photo was taken in summer from the Chateau Tongariro carpark.
In late autumn, on one of our many visits to the area, the mountain was covered with a light sprinkling of snow and ice.
On our most recent visit, this year, in winter, it was fully covered in snow.
Through this window, which wasn’t one of those floor to ceiling, walk out onto a balcony type windows, we saw big ships, little ships, small boats, and then huge ocean liners.
And when that wasn’t enough, sunrise and sunset, or just the sight of Venice in the sunshine
The many vaporettos that came and went
It was simply a matter of watching ships go by, or watching the Venetians go about the daily business
Ferries that would arrive in the morning, and leave at night, small
and large
Small ocean liners
Very, very large ocean liners
And everything in between
And, whilst COVID 19 would make it a very difficult decision to take to the sea in one of these large ships, before that time, it was a matter of picking a destination and a day, for ships came and went every day, to Athens, to the Mediterranean, to Turkey, anywhere really.
All you needed was the money and the time.
And, as for plots and writing, it is a writer’s paradise, where you are limited only by your imagination.
The castle is located in the southern Chianti Classico countryside and has been there for over ten centuries, and owned by the Ricasoli family since 1141.
The newer part of the castle dates from the 1800s. The larger brick palace was built in the Gothic revival-style.
The new castle was built on top of the old castle’s ramparts
The walkway leads to the guard’s tower, and views over the countryside, and in particular, the styled gardens of English origin
It’s not that we often go out to cafés for lunch, but this week we decided to spend a few days out of the city.
Not that our travel options are all that plentiful far afield because of the coronavirus travel restrictions, but our state, Queensland, has a lot of places not far from home, but can make it feel like you are.
So, here we are in Canungra, a small town in what is known as the Gold Coast hinterland, or more generally the “Scenic Rim”.
Before going to the cottage we have booked for a few days, we’re stopping off at a cage we know has good coffee, and cakes, to have lunch, and, of course, coffee.
But, here’s the thing…
Sometimes its not just the food that’s the draw, it’s the atmosphere, and the diverse collection of patrons.
Being a tourist destination, you’re more likely to be surrounded by visitors from far afield than locals, and this day was no exception.
And although we are still practising social distancing, people are close enough, and in some cases, loud enough that you can overhear their conversations.
Like, the fish and chips in Ceduna, located in another state, South Australia, are dreadful, because of the fat dripping off the batter on the fish. A handy hint indeed, if I’m ever in Ceduna.
Then, like a lot of older people do, a discussion turns the medical problems and procedures, described, at times, in gory detail. Thank God I was not eating at the time, because vivid descriptions are about as bad as watching medical dramas on TV, and one in particular, “Transplant”.
I guess when you’re 74 there’s not a lot you have in common with others except the frailty of the human body. And if you’re a caravanner, the places you’ve been, good and bad.
Sadly my idea of camping is a four star hotel.
Then the food arrives, a rather large hamburger, stabbed to death by a steak knife, just to make sure it’s truly dead, and my selection, beer battered flathead and chips with the largest salad I’ve had in a long time.
Needless to say my expectations were exceeded, and it was not only filling, but delicious.
I’m sure we’ll be back again in the not too distant future, surprisingly because if there was no coronavirus we may never have discovered this little slice of paradise.
The castle is located in the southern Chianti Classico countryside and has been there for over ten centuries, and owned by the Ricasoli family since 1141.
Like any good castle, it has strong defences, and I was looking for a moat and drawbridge, but it looks like the moat has become a lawn.
The very high walls in places no doubt were built to keep the enemy out
The castle has been destroyed and rebuilt many times over the last 900 years. It was part of the Florentine defenses, and withstood, and succumbed to many battles with Siena, which is only 20 km away. More recently, it still bears the scars of artillery fire and bombing in WW2.
The room at the top of this tower would have an excellent view of the countryside.
Here you can see the old and the new, the red brick part of the rebuilding in the 1800’s in the style of an English Manor
We did not get to see where that archway led.
Nor what was behind door number one at the top of these stairs. Rest assured, many, many years ago someone wearing armor would have made the climb. It would not pass current occupational health and safety these days with a number of stairs before a landing.
Cappella di San Jacopo. Its foundations were laid in 1348.
Renovated in 1867-1869, it has a gabled façade preceded by a double stone staircase. The interior, with a crypt where the members of the Ricasoli family are buried, has a nave divided into three spans with cross vaults.
The 1,200 hectares of the property include 240 hectares of vineyards and 26 of olive groves, in the commune of Gaiole.
