Posts tagged ‘Europe’

Oct 8

London

If you’ve been to London, you’ll know how expensive it is, and accommodation is ridiculous (unless you’re on a corporate account and don’t care).

When we arrived in April we stayed in Camberwell. Not a great part of London, but convenient. However, the AirBNB we stayed is not somewhere I would visit again.

I started looking way back in April for accommodation in October.

I found an early bird special and booked us into Palmers Lodge; a boutique hostel with good reviews, located centrally in the north west. Even a hostel was costing £80 (AUS$160 per night) for a private room.

The Lodge website provided directions from the Eurostar to Finchley Station. I had diligently planned the most direct route. I had even sent both Don and Jane the instructions (just in case we got separated – a possibility, for reasons I can’t put in writing).

Of course, neither Don or Jane had read them and were relying on me. The instructions direct you to Finchley road station, I discovered three stations; West, East and Central Finchley.

I made, what I thought was an intelligent assumption; that there are a) three stations on Finchley Road and b) Finchley Central would be the correct station, give the instructions did not mention West or East.

It’s been a long day – we’ve been transiting for over 10 hours, having taken the TVG from Lyon to Paris and changed in Paris to the Eurostar.

Over the last 7 months Don and I have learnt a few things about what works well (& what doesn’t) between us.

We clearly nagivate life in very different ways. Generally, we are both heading in the same direction, but we both get there by very different routes.

At times (like today), this can cause some friction; after a long day of travel, we are tired and conversations are snappy.

We board the train for Finchley Central. Realising it was a 30 minute ride probably should have caused some concern. I knew the Hostel was centrally located, one of the reasons we chose it. We seem to be heading too far out of London.

But I am also adamant that this is the directions the hostel gave. At Finchley Central station we ask the attendant for directions to College Cresent.

His blank look confirmed that this was possibly not the right spot. We told him we were staying at Palmer Cottage and that’s when the light bulb went on.

“Oh, you need Finchley Road, not Finchley Central, people make that mistake all the time”.

He promptly pulled out his smartphone, looked up the best route to get us there and directed us to the bus on the corner.

OK, I have trouble admitting I am wrong and this would have to be the first time I’ve put it in writing: “I was wrong”!

But really, four tube stations all named Finchley and the fourth is nowhere near the others? We could do nothing but laugh as we hopped on the bus for a 40 minute ride back the other way.

It seemed today was meant to be a comedy of errors. I’ve booked two ‘twin’ rooms, thinking nothing of the use of the word ‘twin’. Having spent many a night in twin accommodation, I assumed it would be two single beds!

Well, I should have read the fine print – twin in this case means two bunks! If you’ve been to London, you will also know that rooms are generally tiny. This one was no exception.

Two of the smallest bunk beds are crammed behind the door. The beds are so small you have to wake-up and think about rolling over so as not to fall out. We couldn’t both be in the room unless one was sitting on a bed.

A pre-moulded bathroom is also squeezed into another corner, it’s a bit like getting into a port-a-loo with a shower. That’s what you get for £80.

The hostel is pretty nice; a large Victorian mansion, with a lovely common room full of comfy leather lounges. There is also a bar area serving drinks and food at backpacker prices.

It was well located (once you got there) and served us well for our short stint in the city.

We are relieved to see a mix of ages amongst the guest. We are not the only ‘oldies’ staying at a hostel.

One of the things that strikes us is how quiet the lounge room is. Both Jane and I stayed in hostels/backpackers pre-smartphones and laptops. It was a place to meet people; people from all over the world, who all share a common passion – travelling on the cheap.

You made friends, shared travel stories, hooked-up (in the innocent, or not so innocent sense), to travel to the next destination, or simply to share a meal and have a beer with.

Here, no one is talking, they are all staring at an illuminated screen.

Maybe they are all chatting with each other online via tinder, Facebook or whatever the latest messaging app is? But if not, they are surely missing out on one of the most significant and enriching aspects of travel?

Jane has one full day in London. We decide to spend the day around Shoreditch. It’s a busy area with lots of Sunday markets.

Our favourites are the Food Market in the old Trueman Brewery and the Spitalfields Markets which host an eclectic range of stalls from jewellery and clothing (vintage and new), to door knobs and sheepskins.

Angela (My Niece/Jane’s Daughter) has generously offered to shout the three of us a meal in London. This is to celebrate Jane’s recent birthday, Don’s upcoming 50th and that I am simply her favourite Aunt!!

The invitation came with a couple of recommendations; Hawksmoor being one that happens to be in Spitalfields. We couldn’t secure a table until late afternoon, but that suited us. It could be a late lunch/early dinner.

Hawksmoor specialises in meat and we haven’t had a good steak in months, probably not since Turkey (of all places). The steaks are sold by the gram and the smallest started at around 500 grams. We are not gluttonous people – even when someone else is paying.

None of us could devour a 500gm steak on our own, but we could share one. We opted for the most expensive cut (of course) – the Chateaubriand.

It was a succulent 800gms cooked to perfection (medium rare of course). At £13.00/100gms (you do the maths), it would possibly be the most expensive piece of meat I have ever eaten.

The meal is savoured with a decent bottle of red and triple cooked chips, it was also one of the best. Thanks Ang and Ben – it was a great meal.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Bon voyage ma soeur

After 24 days of traveling, Jane is ready. I can see the travel fatigue setting in and the longing for her family, or at least her own bed!

She’s enjoyed herself, I have no doubt, but she is ready to go home.

What not many people know is that it had been touch and go that she even made the trip. My Niece Victoria (Torsie) had been in hospital just a week before Jane departed and I knew Jane was apprehensive about leaving her.

Torsie is fully dependant on Jane for care and my Sister excels at the care she gives her. It’s a fulltime job, not just 9 to 5, it’s 24 x 7. Somehow she also fits in working part time and being a wonderful mother to 4 more.

Upon turning 19 in November, the respite care that gives Jane exactly that: well deserved respite, disappears. This was perhaps a last opportunity, because leaving Torsie in the future for any great length, will be more complex.

Torsie is the youngest of five, she has three adoring sisters and a brother, as well as three brother-in-laws and some doting grandparents. It is with their encouragement and confidence in their support (along with the assurances from Doctors), that Jane got on the plane.

It is over the past three weeks that I have truly gained an insight into what giving that ‘care’ really means.

By watching Jane enjoy what we take for granted; waking when you want; taking afternoon siestas; being able to make plans as we go and change them at the last moment. Not living everyday by a schedule is a luxury for her.

There had been regular updates of course, with photos and Skype. Torsie was well looked after; apparently enjoying her holiday and all the attention. She had endless visitors, including frequent visits from her 87 year old grandparents, I think my Mum enjoyed being able to Skype us with the latest news.

I should at this point, also make special recognition of Don, who did not hesitate to include my Sister in our travels. Even contributing his own frequent flyer points!

Don has spent the last three weeks patiently waiting for Jane and I; as we visited churches (lots of churches), shopped or at least window shopped in every town and generally dawdled about. He quickly came to expect us to be late to every rendezvous!

But, it was a rare opportunity to spend this time with my Sister and hopefully provide her with a bit of adventure! It is a time that I will always treasure.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Just a little bit more…

I’d like to end the post there, but we still have two more days in London.

Seven months ago, our first destination had been Johannesburg, where we had stayed with the Browns. They have now moved back to the UK and it seemed fitting to spend one of our last nights with them.

We spend the night out at Woking, taking them through the tales of our travels and catching up on their news. We get to say Hi to Alison’s parents via Skype, who we stayed with in Choma (Zambia), many months ago.

On our very last night we have dinner with some of Don’s old work colleagues (from Planwell); Leeanne, Dale, Elissa and partner Ian – all doing different things around the world.

Before we know it, our time in Europe is over and we are on a plane to the USA.

Oct 4

Lyon

Lyon is our final destination on the (Continental) European leg of our trip.

I’ve done well by finding a gorgeous little B&B, 8km from the centre of town.

Thanks again to chambresdhotes.org, Villa Cazot is a lovely home, just 8km from the centre of town.

We arrive in time to enjoy afternoon tea in the garden, catching the last warm rays of the sun.

Lyon has been claimed by many to be the gastronomic capital of France, some so bold to claim the world. We are going to see what all the fuss is about. Don has picked a restaurant with good reviews for dinner called La Gargotte.

We head back into town planning to have a look around and maybe a pre-dinner drink somewhere. Well, after a horrendous battle through Lyon traffic (the 8km takes over an hour), we just make it to the restaurant in time for our booking.

Word of advice: don’t drive in Lyon, if you can avoid it.

Dinner La Gargotte

Arriving at La Gargotte, we are greeted by the owner. It turns out to be Croatian – an affable, over excited character who I think is louder than even Don can be after a few drinks.

His enthusiasm for the menu is contagious and he explains in detail the ingredients in each item.

Leaving us to contemplate, he then passes via our table with someone elses meal, so we can view our options. I think he would even have let us taste it if we’d asked.

The presentation and flavours are delicious, each course is just the right size, to allow enough room for dessert. It was a superb meal and I would recommend to anyone – spend time in Lyon just for the food!

By-the-way; our journey home is nearly as long, even at 10:30pm the traffic struggles to move through Lyon.

The next day is a slow one, we don’t head off to explore Lyon until 11am, opting to take the bus rather than endure the stress of driving and parking.

Perched 2km above the city is the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourvière. It looks like a daunting climb, but we couldn’t not visit- at the time, Jane and Don thought otherwise. We stop for pancakes on the way to give us a good reason to continue our hike up the hill.

The view from the top makes the effort worthwhile, the inside of the Basilica even more so.

The site has held religious significance dating back to the 12th Century, the current church was built in the late 1800’s; dedicated in 1896. Perched above the city is provides a spectacular vista over Lyon.

The inside is just as impressive, if not somewhat excessive; a richly decorated interior of gilt, marble, stained glass and mosaic murals. It stands out as one of the most opulent churches we have seen.

In general, Lyon is not an attractive city, it has nothing on Bordeaux or Paris. However, give it time. Significant restoration works are underway, along with new (and controversial) modern developments like the Musee de Confluence – it looks like a spaceship.

The Musee is located in what once was the seedy part of town. The right blend of new with old should bring about a much more cosmopolitan city.

We had skipped lunch and after returning to our B&B, we head out for a dinner locally. We really didn’t want to drive far, even parking in the suburbs is a challenge.

As Don struggles to reverse into a narrow spot, the elderly Frenchman in the car behind, kindly says he will move his car back. He keenly assists us print a parking ticket for the car and I’m sure he even intends to watch the car for us whilst we eat.

The recommendation provided by the teenager daughter of the B&B, turns out to be a pizzeria – what would you expect from a teenager! No one else had been home at the time.

It’s not really what we had in mind for our last French hurrah. We scout the town (passing our car and we are sure we see the Frenchman).

Dinner options are not looking good. We ask in the local Cave (wine shop), also intending to purchase a couple of bottles (if all else failed we could end up with red wine and chocolate for dinner).

Of course, good fortune is on our side (we have Jane with us); he not only recommends a restaurant 10 min away, he calls them and makes a reservation for us.

Le Crouton does not disappoint and perhaps exceeds La Gargotte. Don and I went all duck with Foie Gras followed by Duck Magret, a fitting last French meal. Jane opted for the beef which was also mouth-watering delicious.

It was a fitting last supper; having dined our way through 13 countries, the French cuisine is our favourite, it never fails to impress. The Greeks and Italians are both a close second. But, I decline from commenting further.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Oct 2

One night Layover in Switzerland

We know this great B&B in Lausanne. It’s well located and the bed and shower are among (if not ‘the’) best we’ve had in Europe. Our host is warm and welcoming, she makes you feel like one of the family and it’s a great family.

They are an ‘Ozrish’ blend that we fondly know as the Ryan clan. We couldn’t resist the chance to spend one last night catching-up with them.

We take our time, driving up from Lake Maggiore through the dramatically scenic Simplon Pass into Switzerland. At the highest point we are over 2000m above sea level and on this particular day, sitting in fog.

We stop off for a morning coffee at a non descript town (OK, it probably is worthy of a description, I just don’t remember the name). Based on the price for an average, yet expensive coffee (I miss Italy already) and pastry, we are clearly in Switzerland.

In preparation for a picnic lunch, we detour to a supermarket to buy ham, cheese and baguettes. We arrive at Lake Geneva at the town of Montreux, where we stop for our picnic and enjoy the vista across the lake.

On our last trip we had been surprised to discover that Switzerland produces a considerable amount of wine (on a per capita basis) running along the steep slopes leading into the lake, there are over 15,000 hectares of vines.

Switzerland produces around 1.1 mhl (million hectoliters) per year. To put it into perspectives; Australia in comparison produces about 13.5 mhl. The swiss love their wine, only exporting 1.5% of what they produce and importing considerably more.

Australia (based on the varying statistics I came across), exports somewhere between 40%-60% of what it produces. Just under 17% of wine consumed in Australia is imported.

Our plan was to visit some of the Swiss wine makers along our journey, but being harvest time, they are all busy picking.

We arrive at the Ryan’s late in the afternoon, just in time to do a load of washing before a pre-dinner drink. Penny as usual is running around with kids sporting commitments, ensuring homework is done and planning the logistics for the following day. Just observing is exhausting.

We spend a lovely night chatting with Ed, Olivia, Jack and Steph, as well as Penny of course. Donal, unfortunately had work commitment and he departs

The next morning we again bid farewell, we have left departing gifts, or should I say; offloaded our excess: two bike helmets, some food provisions and a french GPS for the car. Hopefully Ed (having just got his learners) will make use of the GPS in the future.

Our European adventure is nearing an end – one more stop, Lyon.

PS: Not many photos, I can’t seem to locate the file.

Swiss grapes

Swiss Winery

Sep 30

Lago Como & Lago Maggiore

Early Sunday morning we depart Rapallo, heading north to Lake Como. George was off getting married in Venice so unfortunately we couldn’t stay with him!

The GPS decides it knows a quicker route around Milan and takes us off the freeway. It’s looking like a dodgy part of town and this is confirmed when we spot a frequency of scantily glad women standing on street corners. We’ve hit ‘that part of town’ again.

Our thought is to stop at the town of Como, situated at the southern end of the Lake. On approach it’s looking very busy and the main piazza near the waterfront is crowded with people making the most of a sunny Sunday. We can’t say we gave it much of a look, but decided it didn’t ooze enough charm to stop.

We continued driving up the west side of the lake, passing through little villages nestled on the waters edge, but didn’t find anywhere that enticed us to stop. A little disillusioned with our plans to stay somewhere on the lake we arrive at the village of Argegno and decide to stop for a bite to eat.

We stumbled upon La P’osteria. Nestled beside the canal, the colourful italian buildings line the wide walkway where a dozen or so tables are laid in waiting.

The setting looks good and the meal proves to be just as good. Fresh pasta’s and a wine list from which they will open anything and serve it by the glass. A pity we had to continue driving, or it would have been a very long lunch.

We had decided that Lake Como was not the place, I know everyone raves about it and George clearly loves it; but none of the small villages we had passed seemed to offer much.

Lake Maggiore lies a bit further to out west so we head there. We take a very windy road up behind Argegno over the mountains, it takes us briefly into Switzerland and back.

It might have been the most direct route (if you’re a mountain goat), but I am not sure it was the quickest. Don was driving, but I think I was concentrating harder on the road, so as to avoid throwing up.

We eventually arrive at Laveno on the east side of Lake Maggiore . We’ve timed it perfectly to catch the next ferry across to the town of Verbania on the opposite shore.

So far today, Jane is taking credit for us finding the delightful lunch spot and for our good timing with the ferry!

From Verbania we drive south along the shoreline checking out possible accommodation options. Lonely Planet recommends Stresa and it was clearly the spot. The little town presented more charm than any of the others we had seen on the way.

We follow the standard program – find a bar with wi-fi, order a drink and start searching. Don went off to check out a couple of places nearby and came back with rooms secured. It wasn’t anything flash, but it was clean and well located.

The guide books also rave about how spectacular the sunrise is over the Lake. So, next morning, I dragged myself and Don out of bed for an early morning walk. Jane declines and goes back to bed.

Whilst there was a bit of fog and cloud around, it was an impressive sight to watch the pale morning light break through the clouds as it rises up over the horizon.

On the way back we stop for a coffee – local style (standing up at the bar). The cafe is like stepping back into the 1950’s, art deco decor and mirrored walls. It made great coffee.

The breakfast in the hotel was basic, the coffee like dishwater, the cereal and breads stale. The best option being a yoghurt and watery juice. So, it goes without saying that the first stop each day was our coffee bar.

We spend three nights in Stresa; exploring the little islands in the lake, checking out the surrounding towns and local markets (which I can say didn’t rate at all).

It’s close proximity to Milan has made Stresa a popular holiday destination for Italians. Grand villas and palatial hotels enjoying spectacular lakeside views. A piece of trivia: Hemingway recuperated here from a war injury in 1918.

The three Borromean Islands sit just off Stresa ; once predominately fishing villages they are now predominately tourist traps! I’m being very cynical as they do posses some charm, but you pay ‘captive’ prices for everything and besides getting off the ferry, walking around the island and hopping to the next, there isn’t much to do. Regardless, it is a pleasant way to spend a few hours.

We sent Don off to play golf. It was a poignant thing to do that day, being the anniversary of Ann (Don’s Mother) dying suddenly a year ago. He did confess to thinking as he teed-up up on the last par 3, how fitting it would be to have a hole-in-one; “for Annie” and perhaps she could lend a hand?

Annie would be having a chuckle and saying “it doesn’t work that way.” He promptly thumped it into the bushes.

Meanwhile, Jane and I decide to peruse the shops – without Don lurking in the shadows. Of course, we’ve timed it with lunch and all the shops close between 12-2. There is nothing we can do, but find somewhere to enjoy a leisurely lunch.

We choose a restaurant outside in the little Piazza, but after considering the menu we both agree there is nothing that really grabs us. No point staying for the sake of it, so we up and leave.

Circumnavigating the village, we choose another restaurant. Probably a bit more expensive than the last; the more hungry you are the more you’re prepared to pay. However, minutes after we sit a tour group arrives and is ushered in. Oh no, we’re not eating with a tourist group, as we get up to leave the man besides us comments that he would too if he could (he’d already ordered).

Just down the alley is a little wine bar I had spotted earlier that did share plates. It had a spot for us outside in the shade ready and waiting. Well, after 2 disasterous attempts we enjoyed a platter of meats and cheeses along with a bottle of wine (actually 2 carafe’s, so it was a litre).

Hence, we both decided an afternoon nap was required after that. I think we were lucky to even see Jane again that night.

We make a day trip to Largo d’Orta and the medieval village of Orta San Giulio, a very quaint town. In the central piazza the 16th Century Town Hall shows the remains of its frescoed facade. In a narrow cobblestone street hidden from the main thoroughfares we find Al Boeuc, little wine bar serving simple tapas style bruchettas brunettes for lunch.

One of the things I discover about my sister is her total lack of sense of direction. Stresa is a tiny village, a little piazza and maybe 6 streets running around it. Jane confesses to having ‘misplaced’ the hotel on several occasions, only by luck eventually finding it again.

On our last night we designate the task of choosing the restaurant for dinner to Jane. She takes her task seriously – as she should; we’ve been pretty lucky with the meals we’ve had and she wouldn’t want to be responsible for a bad one!

Jane reports during the day, she has found a spot. The only problem was finding it again – which we eventually did. And yes, the meal was another great Italian fare.

This is our last night in Italy, it’s been a brief gourmet tour. We have excelled at eating and drinking our way through Tuscany, the Italian Riviera and Lakes regions. Our waistlines have no doubt expanded, but it was worth it.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Sep 28

Italian Riviera

It’s time to farewell Tuscany and head north to the Italian Riviera.

Our route from Tuscany takes us through Pisa. We can see the leaning tower from the freeway. Don hasn’t been there, so we make a quick detour.

And I mean quick; we drop him off, do a lap around the block whilst he goes in for a look, collect him and keep going.

Don checks out the leaning Tower of Pisa

THE place on the Riviera is Portofino, it’s the holiday destination for the rich and famous, the St Tropez of Italy.

Lonely Planet’s description aptly sums us up: “Spending the night here might stretch the wallets of mere mortals, but it’s worth splashing out on an expensive cappuccino next to Portofino’s yacht-filled harbour, logging the ubiquity of Ferrari key-rings and Gucci handbags”.

So we opted to stay in Rapallo. We did as Lonely Planet suggested and indulge in some people watching, sipping slowly our €4 Cappuccinos (CPI all-time high).

Rapallo is easily accessed from the motorway, the first of the three well known towns along this part of the coastline, it is perhaps the less pretentious of the three and feels more of a working town than just a resort location. It holds its own charm and character.

Our hotel is right in front of a tiny 16th Century Castle, sitting on the edge of the water. The hotel balcony provides a wonderful vista across the town and the perfect place to enjoy a picnic dinner and obligatory bottle of vino.

There is a small beach bordered in blue changing boxes and palm trees. We wake in the morning to Italian opera being sung by a man tanning himself on the rocks beneath the castle.

One of the most striking features of the town are the fresco painted buildings. The window trimmings look three dimensional and it is almost impossible to tell which are real windows and which are not.

The technique has been handed down through generations. Apparently there was a window tax imposed in the 18th Century, so few were built. To keep the symmetry of the facades looking balanced, the Ligurian’s painted false windows and avoided the tax.

Santa Margherita is the town nestled between Portofino and Rapallo. A statue of Christopher Columbus greets passengers from the ferry. Born in Genoa he is a prominent figure in the Riviera.

There is a market selling locally made pottery and things, which kept Jane & I entertained. We then had Focaccia for lunch which turns out to be another version of a pizza, with just a slightly thicker crust.

We stayed: Hotel Italia e Lido Rapallo

This slideshow requires JavaScript.