Over the past year or so I have been selecting photographs I’ve taken on many travels, and put a story to them.
When I reached a milestone of 50, I decided to make them into a book, and, in doing so, I have gone through each and revised them, making some longer, and almost a short story.
50 photographs, 50 stories. I’ve called it, “Inspiration, Maybe”
It will be available soon.
Yes, it’s dark and late at night on this side of the world, and I’m guessing where you are, it’s probably summer, the sun’s out, the day is warm, even slightly hot, and you’ve got better things to do.
Here, in the so-called land down under, which surprisingly a lot of people from the other side of the world do not know about…
Now, hang on, that can’t be true, because we all know the world is round and there had to be something or somewhere opposite. I know that north we have China, and Europe, and further away, the United States.
Been to China, and Europe and the United States, so I know you’re all there, somewhere.
And, as you can see, the rain and the cold has amped up the boredom factor and pushing me to do anything other than writing. I have three jobs I’m supposed to be doing,
None of them is appealing to me at the moment.
Instead, I find myself looking at what is showing on Summer TV in the US, one of which is called Reef Break with Poppy Montgomery. Interesting show, it is filmed in Australia at the Gold Coast, about 30 minutes south of where I live, and it’s a treat to see all those places we are so familiar with, on your TV. I wondered why it was shot in Australia, then I discovered Poppy Montgomery is Australian.
Fascinating,
Then there’s one of my favourites, Elementary. I’m a Sherlock Holmes nut, but what’s getting me is the fact Lucy Liu has blondish hair. Sorry, it’s distracting.
There’s the InBetween, you know, that spooky place between life and death, much the same as saying I see dead people, hang on, didn’t Bruce Willis say that once upon a time? It seems interesting, but time will tell.
But, my favourite at the moment, Blood and Treasure. Indiana Jones without Indiana Jones, but I like the travelogue, an adversary that I last saw in Covert Affairs, and a good and bad guy, now a thoroughly bad guy. I still think he works for Israeli Intelligence in some sort of cross-over. Nazis though, why is it the Nazis keep raising their heads?
Maybe Grand Hotel will give me some light-hearted relief. No, sorry, a suspicious death, a wicked stepmother trying to get rid of the hotel, a porter who’s investigating said susp[icious death, and the usual smattering of spoilt rich kids who don’t seem to learn anything, and mostly manners and humility, at those expensive finishing schools.
There’s more, but I better get back to work.
This is Chester. He’s miffed that I didn’t tell him about China.
Sorry, already had this discussion a month ago, and I’m beginning to think he’s losing his marbles. Perhaps he didn’t remember me saying I hadn’t run into any of his relatives on the Chinese side. Dodging cars and scooters, you know…
The blank look says it all. Oh, well, if we must…
So…
This morning he decided to jump up on the desk and sit beside the keyboard. He was going to sit on it, but a stern look from me deterred him.
Or am I deluding myself, and we’re playing a game.
But I get it. China. The gossip, now.
Well, Beijing airport is the same as anywhere else in the world, except I had to battle the fingerprint machines.
A look tells me that any fool can get a paw, well, fingers, on the glass plate. Next time I go, I tell him, he’s coming and I’d like to see his efforts. It’s not as easy as it looks, and I wasn’t the only one.
After exiting the airport, a train ride to the baggage belt then out to find our guide, it takes about an hour and a half just to get to the bus, then another hour in the bus to our hotel.
He looks at the cup of tea I’ve made, attention span coming to an end. Tea leaves from China, I say. Good for you. Saw it dissolve iodine right before my eyes.
Of course, the retort is, what idiot drinks iodine?
Just in case, I say. You can never be too prepared, can you?
He takes a sniff, turns up his nose, and jumps down. Enough of ‘travels without my cat’ for today.
I just shake my head and get back to work.
Venice is definitely a city to explore. It has an incredible number of canals and walkways, and each time we would start our exploration from St Marks square.
Everyone I have spoken to about exploring Venice has told me how easy it is to get lost. It has not happened to me, but with the infinite number of ways you can go, I guess it is possible.
We started our exploration of Venice in St Marks square, where, on one side there was the Museo di Palazzo Ducale and, next door, the Basilica di San Marco. Early morning and/or at high tide, water can be seen bubbling up from under the square, partially flooding it. I have seen this happen several times. Each morning as we walked from the hotel (the time we stayed in the Savoia and Jolanda) we passed the Bridge of Sighs.
Around the other three sides of the square are archways and shops. We have bought both confectionary and souvenirs from some of these stores, albeit relatively expensive. Prices are cheaper in stores that are away from the square and we found some of these when we walked from St Marks square to the Railway station, through many walkways, and crossing many bridges, and passing through a number of small piazzas. That day, after the trek, we caught the waterbus back to San Marco, and then went on the tour of the Museo di Palazzo Du which included the dungeons and the Bridge of Sighs from the inside. It took a few hours, longer than I’d anticipated because there was so much to see.
The next day, we caught the waterbus from San Marco to the Ponte di Rialto bridge. Just upstream from the wharf there was a very large passenger ship, and I noticed there were a number of passengers from the ship on the waterbus, one of whom spoke to us about visiting Venice. I didn’t realize we looked like professional tourists who knew where we were going. After a pleasant conversation, and taking in the views up and down the Grand Canal, we disembarked and headed for the bridge, looking at the shops, mostly selling upmarket and expensive gifts, and eventually crossing to the other side where there was a lot of small market type stalls selling souvenirs as well as clothes, and most importantly, it being a hot day, cold Limonata. This was my first taste of Limonata and I was hooked.
Continuing on from there was a wide street at the end and a number of restaurants where we had lunch. We had a map of Venice and I was going to plot a course back to the hotel, taking what would be a large circular route that would come out at the Accademia Bridge, and further on to the Terminal Fusina Venezia where there was another church to explore, the Santa Maria del Rosario.
It was useful knowledge for the second time we visited Venice because the waterbus from the Hilton hotel made its first stop, before San Marco, there. We also discovered on that second visit a number of restaurants on the way from the terminal and church to the Accademia Bridge.
Items to note:
Restaurants off the beaten track were much cheaper and the food a lot different to that in the middle of the tourist areas.
There are a lot of churches, big and small, tucked away in interesting spots where there are small piazza’s. You can look in all of them, though some asked for a small fee.
Souvenirs, coffee, and confectionary are very expensive in St Marks square.
It’s one of those grey, dark, wet mornings where you can inadvertently sleep in because the bedroom remains dark for an extra two hours.
That could be a problem if you have a day job, like most of us.
But, today is Sunday, and it’s just what I need.
Time to mull over the latest storyline, marshal my thoughts, write the prose in my head.
OK, that not working for me.
The rain is getting heavier, and is splashing outside; the steady waterfall of overflow from the gutters is taking away my concentration.
Rain, rain, go away …
I have two different visions.
A cold, grey day in London (is there any other sort of day?) waiting for a train, and seeing the woman of your dreams go past, standing in the doorway, and in that fraction of a second your eyes meet, a connection is made.
I suspect it has fuelled many a song such as ‘The Look of Love’.
The second is on a desolate section of coastline as for north as you can go in Scotland (yes, I am a glutton for punishment), and she is standing on the cliff top gazing out to sea, hair blowing in the wind. Silent, strong, resolute.
The rain has gone.
Notes hastily scribbled in a notebook for later reference.
It’s time to get up and contemplate a late breakfast or maybe an early lunch.
It is an amazing coincidence that both times we have flown into New York, it is the day after the worst snow storms.
The first time, we were delayed out of Los Angeles and waited for hours before the plane left. We had a free lunch and our first introduction to American hamburgers and chips. Wow!
I had thought we had left enough time with connections to make it in time for New Year’s Eve, like four to five hours before. As it turned out, we arrived in New York at 10:30, and thanks to continual updating with our limousine service, he was there to take us to the hotel.
The landing was rough, the plane swaying all over the place and many of the passengers were sick. Blankets were in short supply!
We made it to the hotel, despite the snow, traffic, and the inevitable problems associated with NYE in New York, with enough time to throw our baggage in the room, put on our warm clothes, and get out onto the streets. We could not go to Times Square but finished up at Central Park with thousands of others, in time to see the ball drop on a big screen, exchange new year’s greetings, and see the fireworks.
Then, as luck would have it, we were able to get an authentic New York hotdog, just before the police moved the vendor on, and our night was complete.
The second time we were the last plane out of Los Angeles to New York. After waiting and waiting, we boarded, and then started circling the airport waiting for takeoff permission. We stopped once to refuel, and then the pilot decided we were leaving.
This time we took our eldest granddaughter, who was 9 at the time, and she thought it was an adventure. It was.
When we landed, we were directed to an older part of the airport, a disused terminal. We were not the only plane to land, at about one in the morning, but one of about four. The terminal building filled very quickly, and we were all waiting for baggage. The baggage belts broke so there were a lot of porters bring the baggage in by hand.
One part of the terminal was just a sea of bags. To find ours our granddaughter, who, while waiting, sat on top of the cabin baggage playing her DSI until the announcement our bags were available, walked across the top of the bags till she found them. Thankfully no one was really looking in her direction.
Once again we kept our limousine service updated, and, once we knew what terminal we were at, he came to pick us up. This time we arrived some days before NYE, so there was not so much of a rush. We got to the hotel about 3:30 in the morning, checked in, and then went over the road to an all-night diner where we ordered hamburgers and chips.
And a Dr Pepper.
Next: New York after a snow storm.
Funerals are by definition sad occasions. It is a time to reflect on the life of the deceased, a time when everyone who knew them to come together to celebrate their life.
It is also usually a time when the whole family comes together, like births and weddings, and can take an interesting turn given the right set of circumstances.
And, depending on how old you are at the time, you could start reflecting on your own mortality, and how much or how little time you have left, and, quite possibly, what it is you have or haven’t done with your life.
Perhaps the question should be, are you going to put off till tomorrow what you can do today.
The sad fact is, we all do. We all believe we will have plenty of time to get things done, with a motto of, old enough to know better and young enough not to care.
What happens when you die at 44?
It’s one of those questions that we face when attending the funeral of the daughter of one of my in-laws.
It’s a well-known fact that a great many of us look forward to retirement, and having reached that age, generally in the mid to late 60’s, that we will be settled in our life, all major commitments completed, we will be in reasonably good health, our children will be old enough to look after themselves, and we have an adequate retirement plan to see us through to old age.
Until then, we sacrifice a great deal, spending our time either working, or helping our children on their way to an equally successful life.
There never seems to be time for those holidays overseas or doing those things near and dear to us, putting it off till ‘tomorrow’.
No one realizes ‘tomorrow’ never comes.
There’s nothing like ‘hitting the wall’. It’s a rather quaint expression used when you have used up all your energy and there’s nothing left. A lot of sportspeople are very familiar with this expression.
But it doesn’t have anything to do with hitting a real wall, you know the sort, made out of plaster, or bricks, or timber. Some people hit the wall in this case too, and soon find out what it’s like to have a broken hand.
There’s wall street, you know the one, it has a bull in it, and it’s in New York, down that end of the city where the Twin Towers used to be. It’s rumoured lots of ‘jiggery-pokery’ goes on there.
Try stonewalling, you know, give answers to questions that don’t answer the questions, or find something else to do and put off being questioned. I’m not sure, however, that’s how Stonewall Jackson got his name.
We can climb the walls, metaphorically speaking, but it is something we don’t actually do when we’re bored.
And, I’m sure everyone has heard of the Great Wall of China. Even those who travel in space have seen it, from a long, long way away. I’ve tried walking along it, and up it, yes, parts of it go up the sides of mountains, and it’s challenging. Maybe you should try it sometime.
Perhaps a few others, just to finish with, like
I got hit by a wall of water – yep, watch out for them tidal waves
There’s a wall between us, nope, not gonna talk to you
His stomach wall is failing, which means he’s in very bad shape, and
He couldn’t get through the wall of players, oh, well, maybe we’ll win the FA cup final next year!
Hotels can also be one of the major let downs of a trip for whatever reason. If you are going to use a travel agent to pick a hotel for you, make sure you check as much as you can because no matter how it is described, seeing it, in reality, is always completely different than the pictures in a brochure and sometimes on the Internet.
It requires research and a good look at TripAdvisor. Or word of mouth by someone you know and trust who has stayed there.
Take, for instance, staying in a five-star hotel, the usual stomping ground of the rich and famous. It is always interesting to see how the less privileged fare. Where hotel staff are supposed to treat each guess equally it is not always the case. Certainly, if you’re flashing money around, the staff will be happy to take it though you may not necessarily get what you’re expecting.
Currently, we are lucky to be in the highest loyalty level and this affords us a number of privileges; this time working in our favour. But it’s not always the case. Privilege can sometimes count for nothing. It often depends on the humour of the front desk clerk and woe betide you if you get the receptionist from hell.
Been there, done that, more than once.
Then there is the room. There is such a wide variety of rooms available even if the hotel site or brochure had representative pictures the odds are you can still get a room that is nothing like you’re expecting or was promised. Believe me, there are rooms with a view, overlooking pigeon coops or air-conditioning vents. And if you’re lucky, at Niagara Falls, it might be that six inches of window space that allows a very limited view of the falls. Still, why should I complain, you can see the Falls can you not?
Then, if there is one, there is access to the lounge, usually bestowed upon high-level loyalty members, and those who win the check-in lottery. Yes, guests can be ‘selected’ to be given lounge privileges. I’ve learned the hard way that sometimes having a high level in loyalty does not necessarily get you lounge access.
Kind of beats the purpose of being loyal does it not?
A bone of contention often can be the location of the hotel and sometimes parking facilities, not the least of which is the cost of Valet parking. In some cities, it is astronomical, which, on top of the cost of the hire car, can be a reason to select a more convenient hotel in the inner city area.
This time we are reasonably near transport, yes, if we could walk the distance (which feels like the length of a marathon) to the nearest bus or tram stop. The problem is we both have trouble with knees and ankles and walking distances are difficult at the best of times, and for us, it is a long, long way when you can’t walk and that’s when the hotel starts to feel like a prison. Taxis may be cheap but when you have to use them three or four times a day it all adds up.
Also, be wary when a hotel says it is close to public transport. While that may be true in London, anywhere else and especially in Europe, you could find yourself in the middle of nowhere. It’s when you discover your travel agent didn’t exactly lie but it is why that weekly rate was so cheap. In the end, the sum of the taxi fares and the accommodation turns out to be dearer that if you stayed at the Savoy or the Ritz, or the Waldorf Astoria.
Unfortunately, I still can’t afford to stay at the latter hotel.
So airline, hire car and hotel aside those front line experiences are fodder for the travel blogger, these people who are also known as road warriors.
I wondered why until we started travelling and discovered the incredible highs and lows, of flying, yes there are good and bad airlines and the bad are not confined to the low cost, of rental cars and of hotels. There is a very large gulf between five stars and three and sometimes three can be very generous. And of course, l now have a list of hotels l would never stay in again, the names of which might surprise you. That said, five stars sometimes can be two too many.
And those hotels who have self-rated themselves, well, that’s another story altogether.
We manage to arrive early at the airport. Rather than wait three hours for our flight we decide to try and get on an earlier departure. This will depend on our ticket type and whether there are seats available, preferably together.
We line up in the service queue, which by its very description means you have a long wait as service is mostly between difficult to impossible depending on the request. We wait for twenty minutes. There’s a long queue behind us. Our request is taken care of quickly and efficiently making it almost seamless, certainly painless. I’m sure our request was one of the very few easy ones the staff will get.
Today it seems it is our lucky day. The transfer to an earlier flight is free and there are two seats available together. All we have to do is alert the pickup driver at our destination we are going to be an hour earlier. Done.
Checking in bags is usually the bane of the traveller’s existence. No matter which airport in whatever country you are departing from the only difference is the length of the queue; from incredibly long with a half hour wait to the head of the line to up to an hour. Our queue is 15 to 20 minutes.
One assumes this is why intending passengers are asked to go to the airport two hours ahead of their fight. There are times of the day where the queues are horrendous, and that not only applies to Heathrow.
And if you are late, just panic.
And if your bags are overweight be prepared to have your credit card hammered. Especially if you’re flying Air France from Venice to Paris.
Now it’s time to relax. There is an hour before we have to be at the gate so just enough time to get coffee and a doughnut.
And be horrified at what shops charge for simple items like sandwiches. I think $10 is very expensive. But if you’re hungry and forgot to eat before getting to the airport then be prepared to pay more than you usually would for the same fare.
It’s also time to observe our fellow passengers, and there is always the one who has a last minute dash for a plane that is just about to leave, passengers with panic-stricken looks. We all know what happens if you miss the flight even as you’re downing that last cocktail in the airline lounge while thinking, yes they’ll hold the flight for me!
Apparently not, these days, because airlines want to keep their ‘on time’ record.
Even so, there’s still three more calls for the missing passengers and then nothing. If they missed the plane then their problems are just beginning. It’s the same feeling you have when your name is called out before the flight starts loading. Only once have we been called up and given an upgrade, and once in the US to be told we could take another flight because our flight was overbooked. Business class was greatly appreciated and was worth the extra hour we had to wait.
The next bottleneck is the scanners and sometimes the queue here is very long and moving slowly because the scanners are set to pick up belts and shoes so people are scattered everywhere getting redressed and putting shoes on. Today being a weekday the queue is not so bad.
Loading is painless and reasonably organized except when the passengers in high numbered rows try to board by the front door instead of the rear door and clash midway in the plane. After they untangle themselves and get to their seats we’re ready to go.
This flight still has a manual safety demonstration which most people ignored but is slightly better than the video demonstration. Let’s hope we don’t go down over the water. I’ve charted my path to the emergency exit and l have quite a few people before me. I guess there’s more than one way to be last off the plane.
Sometimes you get to pick who you get to sit next to, especially if you are travelling with your partner which this time I am, but in a three-seat arrangement you have no control over who takes that third seat. We are lucky this time because it will not become a tight squeeze but unfortunately, our fellow traveller has a cold and in a confined space for several hours it could turn out to be a problem.
But, in the end, the flight is smooth, the snacks edible. Unfortunately, there is no liquor service like the full-service rival but that might be a good thing. No air rage on this flight.
Time flies, pardon the pun, and we have arrived. Even though it took forever for the baggage to be delivered we still got home early.
Until the next time we fly.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 