Oreti Village, Pukawa Bay, North Island, New Zeland
On the southern tip of Lake Taupo
Three days after we arrive. Cold. Red Sky.
A warning that the weather is going to change. Will it be rain or snow?
It is as cold and peaceful as the first, but the sun is not yet shining. All we have is this ethereal pinkish tinge to the sky
Before the first clouds appear. The surface of the lake is like a mirror, reflecting the sky, and clouds.
How soon will it be before the boats begin to appear?
West Lake is a freshwater lake in Hangzhou, China
The tour starts in the car park about a kilometer away, but the moment we left the car park we were getting a taste of the park walking along a tree-lined avenue.
When we cross the road, once again dicing with death with the silent assassins on motor scooters.
We are in the park proper, and it is magnificent, with flowers, mostly at the start hydrangeas and then any number of other trees and shrubs, some carved into other flower shapes like a lotus.
Then there was the lake and the backdrop of bridges and walkways.
.
And if you can tune out the background white noise the place would be great for serenity and relaxation.
That, in fact, was how the boat ride panned out, about half an hour or more gliding across the lake in an almost silent boat, by an open window, with the air and the majestic scenery.
No, not that boat, which would be gre3at to have lunch on while cruising, but the boat below:
Not quite in the same class, but all the same, very easy to tune out and soak it in.
It was peaceful, amazingly quiet, on a summery day
A pagoda in the hazy distance, an island we were about to circumnavigate.
We did get a story about a woman who was a snake, a monk, and a man who married the woman, but the details in between were a little hazy. Suffice to say it had relevance to the two pagodas on the far side of the lake.
There was a cafe or restaurant on the island, but that was not our lunch destination.
Nor were the buildings further along from where we disembarked.
All in all the whole cruise took about 45 minutes and was an interesting break from the hectic nature of the tour.
Oh yes, and the boat captain had postcards for sale. We didn’t buy any.
The next activity this morning is a boat ride, and we head through a number of back streets, to a landing where there are a number of boats all vying with each other to get us passengers on boats.
But…
These boats don’t have a wharf to tie up to and then put out a stable gangplank. No. They just more into a concrete step and you take your life in your hands getting on. One wrong step and you’re in the canal. And not a very clean one at that.
That’s if another boat doesn’t come along and bumps you, knocking you off balance. We managed not to lose anyone in boarding the vessel.
This is where we get on the boat
We go along what appears to be downstream towards another larger canal, past tree-lined streets until the canal narrows and we’re looking at the backs of houses, which look very dilapidated.
And the canals? Well, it’s not quite like it is in Venice
Though some parts of the canal look better than others
What doesn’t bear thinking about is the electrical wiring which is a nightmarish spider web of cables going off in all directions. How anyone could troubleshoot problems is beyond me.
We pass under a number of bridges, and then, about 30 minutes after leaving, we reach a larger canal and do a 180-degree turn, and head back to a drop off point the will enable us to walk through a typical everyday Chinese market for food and the other items.
This drop off point is much the same as the starting point, a concrete step which is as hazardous as the first. At least we don’t have to compete with other boats for the landing spot.
We take a leisurely stroll down this street with small shops on either side, selling all manner of goods
but my interest is in the food and the prices, which at times seem quite expensive for so-called local people, so maybe because the tourists go down this street every day, the prices have been inflated accordingly.
I find it rather disappointing.
We walk to the bridge, go under to the other side crossing the canal and find the coffee shop which is also the meeting place.
So…
When is a coffee shop not a coffee shop, when it takes an eternity to make a cup of coffee, we waited 25 minutes?
We also ordered beef black pepper rice and it took 20 minutes before it arrived, but it was well worth the wait. Strands of perfectly cooked beef with onion, carrot, and capsicum, with a very peppery and spicy sauce, with a side of boiled rice.
A pizza was ordered too but it did not arrive at all before we left.
After this interlude, we head off to the Lingering Garden.
We are up early and I mean early because we decided to take on Philadelphia the next day, and instead of taking public transport because all the fares I could find were ridiculous, we hired a car.
Again the words ‘or similar’ foiled us. All charged up and excited its quarter to eight in the morning we arrive at the Avis center just a five-minute walk from our hotel.
Shock number one. We finish up with some crappy Nissan the desk lady was using as her personal car.
She lied about the car being full of petrol, it was not.
We asked for a GPS and all it was was a glorified phone. She switched it on, the first didn’t work but the second displayed a screen and that was enough for her to say it was set up and working.
You guessed it, another barefaced lie.
We put it in the car, switched it on, and it was in French. She hadn’t checked the language of the last user.
We took it back and she had the audacity to call us ‘stupid’, blaming us for breaking it, and then she couldn’t fix it so she gave us another one which I’m sure she checked for English.
The question, if she could set these things up, why couldn’t she instantly fix it?
Sorry, the woman was arrogant and very nasty, and not a good advertisement for Avis or the U.S.A as a place to visit. I shall never use Avis in America again if she’s the best they can put at the front desk.
Still seething from that encounter it was a good thing I wasn’t driving.
I remember when I was writing Echoes From The Past I had a sequence of events starting in Lower Manhattan and ending up in Philadelphia. In that narrative, I was not sure if the main character used the Lincoln tunnel, which, on this occasion, we did.
As it turned out the drive was reasonably accurate in that we also followed the i95 turnpike and a number of tolls along the way. Unfortunately, our mode of transport was not quite as luxurious as my characters.
Once in Philadelphia, we managed to find the Swann Memorial Fountain at Logan Square…
and parked the car outside the Free Library.
From there we walked to the city center, what some might call City Hall, a rather large and impressive stone structure, and then ended up at stop number six of the big bus tour.
Big bus tour
There are 27 stops of which we got on at 6 and got off at 1, managed by a miracle of fate to get back on at 1 and got off at 8 where our car was parked. By then we were frozen solid.
But…
There’s always an intervening adventure with our outings and the quest was to find the best place to have a Philly Cheese Steak.
Between stops 1 and 6 when we were not on the bus, we hailed a cab, deciding not to wander around the city looking for a Philly Cheese Steak place ourselves.
We had a side mission to the side mission and got the cab driver to take us back to the car so we could lengthen the parking time. This done, he took us to what he believed was the best Philly Cheese Steak place.
It was a long and convoluted ride that showed us the real Philadelphia, where the citizens live, not the showpiece tourist attractions.
It was somewhere in little Italy. A place called Geno’s steaks, a new and shiny restaurant where there was only seating outside. Mid-afternoon, it was cold.
But were they the best Philly Cheese Steaks. I’m not an expert so I don’t really know. What I do know is the cheesy steak in a roll was absolutely delicious. Freshly cooked in front of you, the steak slices were still dripping juices as they were put on the roll with a layer of cheese and onions which you have to ask for.
And at ten dollars each, it turned out to be less than the cab fare to get there.
Of course being dropped in Little Italy in America on the 20th Anniversary of the Sopranos, conjured up too many nightmares to be walking the streets in the fading afternoon lights.
Two boys on bikes who looked like thugs in hoodies scared us into a cab and back to the bus stop to do the last eight stops before going home.
All in all, a very interesting if not at times scary adventure.
A fine day, on this trip a rarity, we decided to take the train to Windsor and see the castle.
This is a real castle, and still in one piece, unlike a lot of castles.
Were we hoping to see the Queen, no, it was highly unlikely.
But there were a lot of planes flying overhead into Heathrow. The wind must have been blowing the wrong day, and I’m sure, with one passing over every few minutes, it must annoy the Queen if she was looking for peace and quiet.
Good thing then, when it was built, it was an ideal spot, and not under the landing path. I guess it was hard to predict what would happen 500 years in the future!
I’m not sure if this was the front gate or back gate, but I was wary of any stray arrows coming out of those slits either side of the entrance.
You just never know!
An excellent lawn for croquet. This, I think, is the doorway, on the left, where dignitaries arrive by car. The private apartments are across the back.
The visitor’s apartments. Not sure who that is on the horse.
St George’s Chapel. It’s a magnificent church for a private castle. It’s been very busy the last few months with Royal weddings.
The Round Tower, or the Keep. It is the castle’s centerpiece. Below it is the gardens.
Those stairs are not for the faint-hearted, nor the Queen I suspect. But I think quite a few royal children and their friends have been up and down them a few times.
And well worth the effort to reach the bottom.
Any faces peering out through the windows?
A sleigh ride wasn’t the first activity that came to mind, but that first day we saw the sleighs lining up and thought it might be a bit of a lark.
It was New Year’s Eve and we booked a 2pm sleigh ride. I figured any later we’d probably freeze to death. The ride was for about 45 minutes, out around the edge of the lake and back.
Rides were on the hour and sometimes run at night.
We arrived at the departure point about 15 minutes before the ride and watched those who had been on the ride before come back looking somewhat frozen. The only covering you had provided was a red blanket.
Wisely we put on many layers of clothing, hats, and gloves.
We managed to get a seat for ourselves where the maximum per seat was three. The blanket wasn’t the thickest.
It was cold, and according to my phone, about minus 15 degrees Fahrenheit. You could feel it, and it was lucky we were not moving fast.
At the halfway point, we went out onto the lake to turn around. It gave us a chance to take a photo of the sleigh, and the horses pulling it. I felt sorry for the horses out in the cold.
As we turned around, we got to see a frozen waterfall.
If I get a headache, I can take paracetamol
If I have a sore back, I can take ipBrufen.
If I can’t find the words … what is there I can take?
This has nothing to do with writer’s block. Some might argue it’s just a part of the problem, like staring at a blank piece of paper, or the fact there are too many distractions, not the least of which is the fact your pen has run out of ink.
Yes, that happens.
And, by the way, don’t take the pens out of hotel rooms because they do not have much ink in them, and on one occasion I managed to write seven pages of a story before the ink ran out.
What are they?
Advertising for the hotel.
“Oh, that’s a cute pen, where did you get it?”
“China!” Because that’s where they are invariably made.
But …
Not having the words, is not the same as having the words but not the right ones.
OK, anything on paper is better than nothing, but the point here, it is better, if possible, to write what is needed rather than just scrap it later and have to rewrite it all again.
Been there and done that.
So safely ensconced in my hotel room, staring out at the magnificent view, it seems that opposites are not going to attract this time, and there’s going to be a chase scene down the grand staircase, knocking over a couple having their wedding photos taken.
Yes, now I’ve got it.
I can see it as it happens…
For a writer, a place takes on a whole new meaning as we subconsciously look for locations in which parts of our stories will play out. Of course, at the time, we have no idea what those parts of stories will be, but notes, mentally and physically, are taken for future reference.
And, unlike the usual tourist, we always see it differently. I know I do.
Apologies now if I have misspelled any street, piazza or any other names.
The first time we arrived in Florence was by train, from Innsbruck in Austria. We had been booked into the Hotel Brunelleschi, based on the fact it was built over part of a 12th-century monastery, it was conveniently located, and was a luxury hotel.
We took a taxi, not knowing how far it was, and found it tucked away in a street, via Sant’elisabetta, not far from Florence’s cathedral, the Duomo. The taxi barely fitted through the streets. First impressions, it was very old, second impression, the room we were given was amazing, with a view over the main street, and wafting up from a food shop below, the aroma of newly baked waffles. We had to have one.
Words cannot describe how amazing it was to wake up that first morning and look out at the bright sunshine and blue sky. We were in for a hot day, but that wasn’t going to deter the tourist in us. Of course, after we had a great breakfast. I particularly liked the crispy bacon.
The first place on the list to visit was the Piazza del Duomo, where the cathedral is located, and the Porta del Paradiso. We went into the church, and also did a side trip down into the crypt. We did not climb to the top of Brunelleschi’s cupola. We tried the pizza, and hearing that the gelato was very expensive in the main part of the city, ventured further afield and found a gelato vendor that was inexpensive. As the day was very hot it was a welcome relief.
The Ponte Vecchio, the bridge that crosses the Arno. We walked to the bridge, taking in the views up and down the river before crossing to the other side, then back towards the Piazza Santa Croce. On our most recent visit there was a football competition, Calcio Fiorentino, in progress that had taken over the whole Piazza, and during the day there was a parade where all the teams and others dressed in the historic clothing dating back to the 15th century.
The Galleria dell’Accademia was also high on the list of places to visit, and we left the hotel early as we had heard the queues are long to get in. They were right. We were at the end of a very, very long queue stretching back to Via delgi Alfani. We were in the queue for about an hour and a half and it didn’t seem to move very quickly.
Then some people passing by said that we could go to the Museo Di San Marco, and purchase tickets to enter the gallery at a particular time. We had also read or heard something similar, and, taking a risk we left the queue and went in search. We found it at the Piazza San Marco, purchased tickets for 13:30 and had time to have lunch before turning up at the entrance for our timeslot, and sure enough, with others who had also purchased tickets, we went in.
Just out of curiosity I went back to the queue to see when the people in front of us were, and they still had an hour before gaining admission.
We saw everything that was recommended, including the famous statue of David, though I had a lot of trouble taking a photo when people kept walking in front.
The Piazza Della Signoria has a large number of statues, including another of David, the Marzocco, the symbol of Florence, Il Perseo, the fountain of Neptune, Poseidon, Perseus with the head of Medusa, and a hall of statues adjacent to the Palazzo Vecchio.
Florence is old, the roads are cobbled and narrow, and there are many trails one can follow and discover something new at the end of every twist and turn.
I have to go back, other than the fact I need a new wallet and belt made from Italian leather. My wife loves the purses and handbags, also leather, though the scarves have only recently been added to her list of most wanted items. I want to simply soak up the atmosphere, relax, eat the pasta and drink the endless supply of Moretti’s.
Some call time off from work whether it is for a day, a few days, and couple of weeks, or maybe longer, a holiday.
Or leave, leave of absence, annual leave, or long service leave.
Others may call it vacation.
It depends on what part of the world you live in.
But the end result is the same, you do not go to work, so you stay home and do all those things that have mounted up, you drive up, and for some reason it is always up, to the cabin, for a little hunting shooting a fishing, or you get on a planr or a ship and try to get as far away from home and work as possible.
That’s called going overseas. It seems if there is an ocean between w there you go and where you live, no one will be able to disturb you.
Sorry, I bet you didn’t leave that mobile phone or iPad home did you?
But, of course there are a few other obscure references to the word holiday.
For instance,
It can be a day set aside to commemorate an event or a person, a day when you are not expected to work, e.g. Memorial Day, Christmas Day, Good Friday. In Britain they used to be called Bank Holidays.
It can be a specified period that you may be excused from completing a task, or doing something such as getting a one year tax exemption, which maifh also be called a one year tax holiday.
Yes, now that is an obscure reference, particularly when no tax department would ever grant anyone an exemption of any sort.
After arriving latish from Toronto, and perhaps marginally disappointed that while in Toronto, the ice hockey didn’t go our way, we slept in.
Of course, the arrival was not without its own problems. The room we were allocated was on the 22nd floor and was quite smallish. Not a surprise, but we needed space for three, and with the fold-out bed, it was tight but livable.
Except…
We needed the internet to watch the Maple Leafs ice hockey game. We’d arrive just in time to stream it to the tv.
But…
There was no internet. It was everywhere else in the hotel except our floor.
First, I went to the front desk and they directed me to call tech support.
Second, we called tech support and they told us that the 22nd-floor router had failed and would get someone to look at it.
When?
It turns out it didn’t seem to be a priority. Maybe no one else on the floor had complained
Third, I went downstairs and discussed the lack of progress with the night duty manager, expressing disappointment with the lack of progress.
I also asked if they could not provide the full service that I would like a room rate reduction or a privilege in its place as compensation.
He said he would check it himself.
Fourth, after no further progress, we called the front desk to advise there was still no internet. This time we were asked if we wanted a room on another floor, where the internet is working. We accepted the offer.
The end result, a slightly larger, less cramped room, and the ability to watch the last third of the Maple Leaf’s game. I can’t remember if we won.
We all went to bed reasonably happy.
After all, we didn’t have to get up early to go up or down to breakfast because it was not included in the room rate, a bone of contention considering the cost.
I’ll be booking with them directly next time, at a somewhat cheaper rate, a thing I find after using a travel wholesaler to book it for me.
As always every morning while Rosemary gets ready, I go out for a walk and check out where we are.
It seems we are practically in the heart of theaterland New York. Walk one way or the other you arrive at 7th Avenue or Broadway.
Walk uptown and you reach 42nd Street and Times Square, little more than a 10-minute leisurely stroll. On the way down Broadway, you pass a number of theatres, some recognizable, some not.
Times Square is still a huge collection of giant television screens advertising everything from confectionary to TV shows on the cable networks.
A short walk along 42nd street takes you to the Avenue of the Americas and tucked away, The Rockefeller center and its winter ice rink.
A few more steps take you to 5th Avenue and the shops like Saks of Fifth Avenue, shops you could one day hope to afford to buy something.
In the opposite direction, over Broadway and crossing 8th Avenue is an entrance to Central Park. The approach is not far from what is called the Upper West Side, home to the rich and powerful.
Walk one way in the park, which we did in the afternoon, takes you towards the gift shop and back along a labyrinth of laneways to 5th Avenue. It was a cold, but pleasant, stroll looking for the rich and famous, but, discovering, they were not foolish enough to venture out into the cold.
Before going back to the room, we looked for somewhere to have dinner and ended up in Cassidy’s Irish pub. There was a dining room down the back and we were one of the first to arrive for dinner service.
The first surprise, our waitress was from New Zealand.
The second, the quality of the food.
I had a dish called Steak Lyonnaise which was, in plain words, a form of mince steak in an elongated patty. It was cooked rare as I like my steak and was perfect. It came with a baked potato.
As an entree, we had shrimp, which in our part of the world are prawns, and hot chicken wings, the sauce is hot and served on the side.
The beer wasn’t bad either. Overall given atmosphere, service, and food, it’s a nine out of ten.
It was an excellent way to end the day.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 