Venezia the terrible......

Perhaps it was just that the day got off to a bad start.........

I caught a bus to the Bologna Railway Station, noticed on the large electronic boards that a train was due to leave shortly for Venice and hurried to the automatic ticket machines. After two attempts it became apparent that foreign credit or debit cards were not the flavour of the day and I had to queue at the ticket office. Of course by now the train had already left....

A second class single to Venice was €10.50 and the next train was some 50 minutes later. Luckily there were lifts down to the platforms, not so luckily there were too many people around me smoking.

I was sitting in luxury heading for Venice when an inspector came along and told me that my ticket was not valid for the train that I was on and that I would have to cough up a further €26. I pleaded both ignorance and poverty and he told me to get off at the next stop and wait for the "ordinarie". It was not far behind and not too packed. I managed to sit with my case and next to an open window, joy of joys - a breeze to reduce the thirty degrees and an opportunity to take photos as we approached Venice.

To the left...



And to the right....




The prepaid data micro sim that I had purchased yesterday came online and I was busy emailing Peter when my iPad suffered a heat stroke and switched off. Luckily as with all things Apple it cooled down, switched back on and there was my email waiting to be finished. Why can't all computers work like that.

My next problem was the left luggage at S. Lucia station. I had been spoilt last year in Paris and Barcelona by the left luggage lockers which were coin operated and allowed you to sort out what you wanted to leave and what you needed to take with you. You could leave loose stuff as well as your case. In Venice it was the old cloakroom ticket system with a charge per case and nowhere to sit and re-organise. I was carrying my hiking boots in my rucksack and Peter's fleece was now in the suitcase which I had needed to sit on to close that morning. I decided to take the case along.

I had written down the walking directions to the hotel from Google Maps and set off confidently to the Hotel Bernardi Semenzato. What a maze of small streets and passageways! Bridges to cross with steps to be negotiated with the suitcase, crowds to avoid and street names to be spotted.

I got lost and had to get the iPad out to find myself on the map with the gps system. By the time I reached the hotel it was around 2pm, more than 5 hours since I had left Bologna.

Well it was a relief to jettison the luggage and set off to explore. But even with the city map that the hotel receptionist had provided I found it tricky to find my way around. Other tourists all over the place were stopping and looking at their maps. I would start to follow signs to the Piazza San Marco or the Rialto bridge and then at one of the turns the sign would be missing and I would guess - usually incorrectly.

I walked in quite a few circles!

Of course my first photo had to be of a gondola....



And a water taxi....



I stopped and had a really bad pizza for lunch and a bottle of water that exceeded even the cost of a Sun City bottle. I asked for an iced coffee and it came in a mug. Still, at least I got to sit down for a while. There was no 3G signal in the city so I made use of the wireless network in the restaurant to catch up on some emails.

Then the view of the Grand canal from the Rialto bridge..




In both directions...


Shops selling masks.....







Or glass....



Or pottery....



En route to...


The views from the top.....


The liner leaving down one of the canals....








One of the bells...



Back down in the square..






And to cap it all I became thirsty in the evening and went in search of a beer.
My first stop was at an outdoor restaurant which charged €5 for a small glass, not even a half.

Then, marking the landmarks carefully for my return to the hotel in the dark I stumbled on the ubiquitous Irish Pub.


It just happened to be half time in Euro 12 Italy v Republic of Ireland. The Italian guys were signing and jumping around. Especially when the second goal was scored. Beer was delivered to the tables in bulk in containers that had the appearance of giant blenders. Here a pint of Pilsener was €5 - a much better proposition.

As I was watching the match it took me back in time....
Last week I was in Spain watching Spain take on the Republic of Ireland, now I was watching Italy v Ireland in Italy.

It reminded me of Soccer 2010 when Peter, Geoff and Graham had travelled to Rustenburg to watch England v USA and then a group of us had watched South Africa play Uruguay at Loftus Versveld in Pretoria. We then went on holiday to England and watched England v Germany in Robin and Wendy's house in Milton Keynes and then once back again in South Africa, Peter and Graham had gone to Johannesburg for the final between Spain and Holland.
Memories.... That was a great holiday in England.

Not too impressed with Venice although the ice creams are delicious.....
Perhaps a guided tour would have been a better option?


Oh and just to round the day off nicely, I did a bit of laundry when I arrived at the hotel, 12 hours later it is still wet....
Off to Cortina in the Dolomites tomorrow. The temperature on the weather forecasts is half of what it is here. Still warmer than England???

Location:Venice

Travelling from Alicante to Bologna

I had made the mistake of leaving my camera in my bag - so no photos. Wrote this particular blog to remind myself of some travel tips for future reference.....

After spending a few hours exploring the Esplanade area of Alicante with Graham and Myriam we headed back south on the A70 for the 12 km drive to the airport. They were due to fly to Barcelona and then hire a car to drive to Graham's sister just across the French border in Argeles whilst I was flying to Italy to start the next chapter of my journey. Our flights were scheduled for 18h10 and 18h15 and were both with RyanAir. They left their hire car with a parking service outside the new departures hall.

The check in was fairly quiet and we proceeded to security within ten minutes. I was travelling in my hiking boots which are far too heavy and bulky to pack in any bag. I was asked to remove them whilst passing through security. I had travelled many times locally and internationally with my iPad in my cabin baggage and had never bothered to remove it and send it through the x-ray machine separately as a computer. This time the scanner picked it up and I was asked to go back, remove it from the bag and go through again. We did not go through a separate passport control.

After the security check the route to the boarding gates takes you temptingly through the middle of a large duty free shop. You are permitted to carry an airport shopping bag on to the plane in addition to your strict allowance of one bag. I could not shop as I had absolutely no space left in my medium sized suitcase for onward travel. It already contained hiking poles, gaiters, waterproofs, hat, gloves, compass etc - all the stuff required for 7 days of hiking at an altitude of over 2000 meters in the Dolomites. This alongside the cold weather clothes for the UK, hot weather clothes for Spain and some of the shopping that Myriam had lured me into buying in the Spanish markets........


Eventually my flight left Alicante fifty minutes late at around seven pm, but looking on the bright side at least it left. I am still nervous after the EasyJet flight which Peter and I had checked in for in June 2010 was cancelled when we were supposed to be flying from Luton to Inverness - that flight had clashed with a certain World Cup Soccer game between England and Germany and the crew had not pitched for work!!! Luckily, Spain did not have a Euro 2012 match scheduled.

At this point in the blog I would just like to divert your attention for a word of warning. At the Boarding Gate for RyanAir a guy was pulling passengers out of the queue and asking them to slot their cabin baggage into a metal frame to check that the dimensions did not exceed those advertised. The attention of the entire queue of waiting passengers was diverted as person after person had their luggage red carded. Whilst it relieved the boredom of waiting it was excruciatingly embarrassing for those that were being picked on. Weight did not seem to matter - most bags failed on thickness, some were successfully squeezed into the blue frame but then became stuck and could not be pulled out again without the assistance of friends - be warned. If your bag failed you were sent to pay excess baggage. You were also not permitted more than one piece of luggage, handbags had to go inside cases, not even pouches around the waist were allowed. Even if hidden they were discovered at the security check. Two enterprising ladies in the queue ahead when pulled aside and told that they had too many separate pieces of luggage went directly to the nearby airport shop and asked for plastic carrier bags. They then put all of their bits and pieces into a plastic bag and passed the test! Crazy!

The flight from Spain to Italy across the Mediterranean was surprisingly long at just over 2 hours. You forget how large the sea is, even this western end. The plane headed north east over Benidorm, the islands of Ibitha and Majorca and then along the south coast of France and Monaco before descending over Italy. Coming down towards Bologna airport I was impressed by the endless neat fields surrounding large square farm houses. I did not notice any signs of the recent earthquake. It was also greener than south eastern Spain.

Luckily you could get off down stairs at the front and the back of the plane as the Boeing 737-80 had been almost full. It had 3 seats either side of the aisle and 33 rows. I am always amazed at how many people need to travel. Two buses waited to carry us the short distance to the arrivals hall.

The baggage was already being put onto the conveyor as we arrived in the baggage hall. Once again there was no passport control or customers check, we simply walked out.

I was a bit apprehensive about arriving at the B&B late. They had only 3 rooms and although I had booked through RyanAir and received a confirmation from EasyToBook, I had not heard from the establishment itself and secondly they did not permit arrivals after 22h00.

I should have liked to have booked their shuttle but they did not have an email address. There was no point in my phoning as a guest review had mentioned that the elderly proprietor did not speak a word of English, and I almost no Italian.The lateness of the flight meant that I did not have time to walk to Via Licinia so I signaled for a taxi and showed the driver the address of the Accorsi B&B. The journey was about 4 kms and it cost €10.50.

When travelling alone I prefer to stay in inexpensive accommodation. You can save a lot of expense if you are prepared to forgo air conditioning and to share a bathroom. I paid €25 per night for bed and breakfast. Villa Accorsi was spotlessly clean and the rooms large. There were 2 bathrooms to be shared by the 3 bedrooms and there was a communal kitchen where you could help yourself to breakfast. Luckily a Polish lady arrived shortly after myself and she could understand some Italian. The owner had thought that I was she and indeed did not have my booking. Luckily there was space for me. Later she found my booking "in the computer".

I wrote out my directions to get to the old city centre and back to the B&B for the next day, I was looking forward to exploring.









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Location:Mediterranean

To the beach....

Before pleasure comes the pain and there were clothes to be ironed...




We drove to the beach close to Villaricos and parked on the sand alongside. There were a few people but it was not at all crowded. The warm Mediterranean water was perfect for floating and shoals of tiny fish jumped above the gentle waves. Myriam was walking amongst the rock pools and called me over to see a squid swimming. I missed it but saw different types of fish and tried to catch them in my hands.

Surely it must get busier in July and August when the rest of England descends here?

In the afternoon we played golf and I was amazed at the long neat road leading up to the golf course - totally deserted and bordered by ornamental trees which appeared to be oleanders growing as standards.



Everything around here appears to be waiting for a time when it will be much busier.

On Tuesday Graham and Myriam went shopping and I finished the ironing and then went to catch some sun on the roof terrace and read the book that Myriam had lent to me. "The Last Rhinos" by Lawrence Anthony. I had previously enjoyed his book "the Elephant Whisperer" which Odette had lent to me back home.

In the evening we drove with Steve to Palomares and ate at 102 Tapas.



We each chose 3 or 4 small plates of Tapas and it reminded me of going with G&M for sushi back in Pretoria. I took a photo of the menu for Peter who was freezing back in South Africa and not yet retired.


This is what awaits you my love.

Wednesday was market day at Mojacar and we set off bright and early. Well early for Spain - 9h30.

Mojacar Pueblo is a village of white buildings on a hillside, with he another market. Great views down to the plains and distant mountains.




Quaint winding alleyways and bougainvillea. Nice to see some colour!





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Location:Villaricos

A weekend in Spain

To describe Los Lobos as a town would be an exaggeration, although it is very well signposted from all directions as you approach by one of the excellent Spanish roads. It is a small village with a shop and a couple of bars, ten minutes or so from the sea.
Los Llanos is a 2 storey complex of just over 30 units built around the four sides of a large swimming pool. Graham and Myriam's apartment has 2 bedrooms and access to a roof area with views of the surrounding hills. Myriam had prepared supper and it was extremely pleasant to eat out in the open as the sun went down.




Steve joined us - he is one of the handful of owners who live permanently at the complex and looks after its well being. He had visited G&M earlier in the year in South Africa so we had met when we played golf at Irene and Wingate. In Los Lobos he is a great source of local knowledge and language.
On Saturday Graham drove us to Aguilas where there was due to be a large market. However much to Myriam's disappointment there were no signs of the market and we had to make do with a couple of supermarkets. We returned home for a lunch of glorious Spanish ham and salads on the small balcony overlooking the pool. Afterwards Myriam and I walked in the nearby Rambla which is a river valley.




Note Myriam's pink outfit which later became notorious for colouring the entire wash!
In the dry summer months the river is not much more than a trickle and we hoped to see terrapins basking on the rocks. We did see a frog and a rabbit and there were plenty of birds. There are low growing cypress trees and aromatic herbs.
We passed a field with a ripe golden crop which we thought might be wheat.




One of the features of the Los Lobos landscape is the abandoned building on top of the hill which overlooks the village. It was intended to be a Farmer's Market. It looks to me as if a little more erosion could cause it to topple into the Rambla.








In the evening we were due to go to the bar to listen to local group Los Gringos. As we walked down the road we were transported back to the late sixties as a couple of Cream numbers blasted down the road. The band were amazing and performed rock numbers for 3 hours or so. It made me think of Nico, my MD at Tongaat who loved rock and used to have a guitar in his office. The lead singer is a talented seventeen year old who Myriam insisted on posing with. I think she is hoping to sell the photo when the band becomes world famous.



It was almost midnight and still warm when we strolled the couple of hundred metres back to Los Llanos.
Late nights are followed by late mornings. Myriam's shopping bag on wheels was straining at the bit to find a market that was open so we drove to Villaricos. A South African braai was planned for the evening, with more than a dozen fellow Los Llanos residents invited. Myriam was to purchase the salads whilst Graham and I went to the supermarket in Garrucha for tinfoil, mayonnaise and bread. After living in South Africa for so long it seemed strange for us to find that the supermarkets were closed on Sundays. Do they only open in peak season? Our shopping mission was a failure and when Graham pulled up outside a hotel and asked me to run in and buy him a newspaper I didn't suspect any subterfuge. As I crossed the foyer to the shop I glimpsed what appeared to be naked men in the reflection of a mirror across the wall. I thought it was a picture and looked again. There was a bar over to the left populated entirely by naked old men and then I recalled that Myriam had recounted the tale of how Graham had duped her into going into the same nudist hotel last year. As I walked back to the car I was heading directly towards a naked eighty year old who was walking into the door of the hotel from THE STREET.
Graham smiled sweetly as I opened the car door and said that he hadn't been able to resist playing the same trick on me.
We returned to Villaricos to find Myriam with a full shopping bag but not yet finished at the market. She took me on an initiation course of negotiation in pigeon Spanish round the remainder of the stalls where she haggled for clothes for the grandchildren, friends, bridge partners, god daughters, brothers, son, in fact the entire world could benefit from a Myriam shopping expedition. She just loves shopping in the Spanish markets and her generosity is legendary amongst her friends and family.
Graham waited at the cafe in the square and eventually we joined him for aqua con gas and an ice cream. I was fascinated by the trucks which parked at the market whose sides rolled up to reveal that they were giant chicken roasting stalls.



The European Cup had started and there were English as well as Spanish flags on display.




We strolled back to the car and ate lunch in a restaurant owned by English people. Then it was back home to prepare the salads for the evening braai.
The guests seemed to enjoy the tasters of boerewors and dry wors followed by beef fillet, kudu and ostrich meat. But most of all they enjoyed the Dom Pedro's that followed, made from ice cream and Baileys and sipped through a straw.
Another late night......

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Location:South Eastern Spain

Sunny Spain

One of life's pleasures must be to fly out of Manchester on a gloomy, cold and wet day and then to land 3 hours later on a warm Spanish evening with endless blue skies.

Graham met me at Murcia airport in his rented Polo and it took around an hour to drive to the small village of Los Lobos where Myriam was waiting in their Los Llanos apartment.

On first impressions the scenery in this part of Spain is sandy and barren with very little greenery, which results in a rather scruffy appearance. In parts the soft rock is home to people living in caves which have the frontage of a "normal house" and then extend back into the hillside.

Despite the apparent dryness there are fields of melons and artichokes and plastic tunnels sheltering crops such as tomatoes. Regular "explosions" in the fields chase away marauding birds, rabbits and wild boar day and night.

This area lying in the provinces of Andalusia and Almeria has a huge, if migratory, English presence. So much so that there is even a branch of Iceland supermarkets which is staffed by imported workers from England. I wonder if it's a performance incentive back in the UK? Excel at your till and earn a 3 month stint in sunny Spain? Luckily for us many of the Spanish in the area also speak excellent English.

A very obvious feature of the landscape is the large number of partly built housing developments. Apparently some have been standing for 3 or 4 years, now owned by the banks and waiting patiently for an upturn in the economy. It lures one into thinking that there could be bargain buys around every corner but the banks appear to be hanging on for better prices.

We played golf at San Juan where an entire development appears to have been completed and never put on the market.



It is protected around the clock by patrolling security guards, the swimming pools are maintained and the golf course is pristine. A vivid streak of green in the dry landscape.



The long evenings meant that we could start to play at 16h30 when it was a little cooler. Although it was still a pleasant 31 degrees after 21h00 when we finished. The €35 per person include a golf cart a bottomless free beer or Tintoretto Di Varona (a mixture of red wine and summer fruits that disappears like cool drink) from 2 pumps outside the pro shop after the round.

On the back nine a swirling fierce wind suddenly reared up from the dusty land and started to move twister-like carrying the grey dust towards us. Steve shouted for us to get into the carts but just as suddenly it veered away and went in a different direction.


The golf was fiercely contested with many balls being lost in scrubby ravines or half empty artificial lakes, however Graham excelled on the last few holes to give us a win. The free drinks were on Steve and Ron and a return match was planned for Friday before we leave for Alicante airport. Graham and Myriam to fly to Barcelona en route to inspect their new house in Argeles sur la Mer and myself to Bologna, one step closer to the Dolomites.





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Location:Andalusia

Morecambe Bay Walk

Although I was born in Morecambe almost 60 years ago I had never ventured on the famous walk across the bay and consequently it had become one of the items on my "Bucket List".
The guided walks take place on Saturdays from the end of April until late September at low tide. They need to be guided as the bay is treacherous with sinking sands, river estuary crossings, shifting channels and a tidal bore. In fact one of our fellow scholars had sadly drowned as a result of the tidal bore some 50 years ago.
I joined the walk with my sister Jen, her husband Jem and their Springer Spaniel, Jake.











If my son Mike sees a photo of me in these shorts he will disown me.

We were surprised at the number of people gathering at Hest Bank Foreshore to participate - there must have been at least 80.




We were to be accompanied by the guide, Alan Sledmore and a couple of helpers on Quad Bikes and later, Tractors. The Quad Bikes rush ahead and "scout" the safest route through the channels. Alan himself has a pole with which he can test the depth of the water and strength of the current.
Our target was Grange over Sands 9 miles away across the Bay but it had to be changed to Humphrey Head due to changes in the channels.
We set off across the wet sand and it didn't take long for many of us to remove our shoes and roll our shorts up.




Although it wasn't raining there were low clouds which spoilt our view of the Lake District mountains across the bay.

We let Jake off his lead and he went tearing off to meet the other dogs, but always coming back when whistled.

I was interested to see Warton Crag, Yealand Woods and Silverdale from a new angle. This was where my brother Ian, Jen and I had grown up and our mother, grandparents and great grandparents before us.

We had 3 major channels to cross of varying depth. One across the River Kent was flowing quite swiftly out to sea and a lady lost her balance and fell. She was carrying her her small dog which she managed to protect whilst falling. Rather like a man tripping but holding onto his precious beer.




Jake was managing to swim rather well.

Every now and again we could feel patches of sand which were much less firm. The infamous sinking sands - we were instructed to keep moving.




In places the sand was littered with the famous cockle shells which are harvested and sold. We also came across some small jellyfish with the appearance of glass marbles.

We could make out the ugly block of flats that mark the start of Bare Lane close to where Mum lives and the other eyesore of the nuclear plant at Heysham Head.

Our 3 hour walk turned into 4 and a half hours as the guide routed us around the channels. Apparently there were sections of rock that had become exposed over the previous 12 months and new sand banks more than 20 feet high.

Jake formed an attachment to another male dog - an older black Labrador who wasn't in the least interested but couldn't shake him off. However he redeemed himself by presenting a fish to Jeremy. It was a flounder and Jake looked so proud.

We could see the point at Humphrey Head getting closer, it was pretty cold in the late afternoon, not at all summery.




The tractors were offering rides to those who were becoming a tad weary.
As we drew nearer land I could hear a collective sigh of relief from all those who were becoming desperate for a loo! I just hoped that there would be more than one, or the queue would be very long.

We emerged onto a field of cows as we climbed up Humphrey Head and shoes were rapidly put back on as protection against the many thistles. Filtering through 3 or more stiles broke the group up into a long line.
Someone observed that most people's left leg was muddier than their right. Wonder why that was?
Oh the blessed relief of the Humphrey Head Outdoor Centre with its MANY loos and even showers.
A gentle walk down the road to the awaiting coaches and the entire party, muddy dogs and all was transported in luxury back to our cars at Hest Bank.
Couldn't wait for a hot shower!
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Location:Hest Bank to Humphrey Head

A Drive in the Yorkshire Dales

I'd forgotten how beautiful the Dales are, a different landscape from the Lakes, sweeps of hillside pleasing to the eye, drystone walls, sheep and at this time of the year swathes of yellow buttercups in the lower pastures and glorious yellow gorse bushes higher up.
Lynne offered me a day out in her Freelander and I hadn't explored the Dales for many years. I last hiked there in the seventies with my school friends when we were completing our Duke of Edinburgh's Award. That's 40 years ago!
We drove north from Halton to Kirkby Lonsdale and were soon caught up in a traffic jam behind Travellers making their way to the Appleby fair.




Although we had lived within a few miles of Kirkby Lonsdale until 1964 we had not owned a car and so I was unfamiliar with the quaint town and eager to explore it.




The flags were on display for the Royal Jubilee, even on the cross in the square.




We parked near the River Lune to admire the view and the bridge.








And a bit of bird watching to test Barrie and Sue.....




Several Travellers had made camp and were grazing their horses nearby.




From Kirkby Lonsdale we travelled north to Sedbergh and took a back road to the quaint village of Dent.
At the end of the eighteenth century Dent was a centre for a thriving home industry, knitting socks, woollen caps and gloves, which were sent far and wide. Such was the industriousness of Dent folk, who knitted so fast and furiously, they were known as the Terrible Knitters of Dent. Elizabeth Middleton and her colleague, Betty Hartley, kept the memory of these old skills alive by demonstrating in schools, museums and country shows until they both passed away in 2007, the last of the "Terrible Knitters of Dent".
The Heritage Centre in Dent provides a fascinating insight into how life was lived in the past, using displays based on rooms in a house.












The village has an active community judging by the local notice board which makes use of a couple of shed doors.












From Dent we travelled to Hawes and visited the Wesleydale Cheese Factory for lunch.




Homemade Broccoli and Ham soup and Wesleydale cheesecake with ginger. Yummy!
Hawes was quite busy and the weather was becoming chilly, we decided to head north for Swaledale and the villages of Muker and Keld which I remembered from hosteling days.
Everywhere there were fields of buttercups which took me back to the days when we used to press wild flowers at school.




Beautiful Swaledale, remote but stunning.




The village of Muker and it's Methodist Chapel with a beautiful English country garden decorated for the jubilee.












Memories of our friends from Aireborough Grammar School and our hiking days.
We couldn't reach Keld because of road resurfacing so we retraced our journey back towards Ribblesdale and Ingleton, passing the famous viaduct and glimpsing the famous 3 Peaks of Ingleborough, Whernside and Pen y Ghent when the clouds permitted.









Ingleborough has always been special to those of us who were brought up in Yealand Conyers with distant views of its distinctive shape.
A wonderful trip out, thank you Lynne, and many memories revisited.
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Location:England