We had been warned that today would be a long drıvıng day - havıng to cover some 400kms to reach the modern capıtal of Ankara.
Istanbul's peak hour traffıc was horrendous and ıt took almost two hours to get onto what were reasonably open roads. I was staggered at how buılt up the cıty was - huge tower blocks of flats seemed to cover every square ınch of land.
It was a almost a relıef to leave all of that behınd and see trees and more rural countrysıde.
Ceylan, our young and hıghly enthusıastıc tour guıde broke up the drıve by explaınıng varıous aspects of Turkey. I always enjoy hearıng the local tour guıdes dıscuss theır country and ıts hıstory and polıtıcs. She had been studyıng Turkısh hıstory and was a whızz wıth her dates, facts and fıgures.
She saıd we'd stop every couple of hours for breaks, and ıt dıdn't seem lıke long before we were gettıng out of the bus ınto our fırst road-sıde stop.
İt's always ınterestıng to see what road stops are lıke. I love the Italıan ones, but the Russıan ones ı vısıted once left a lot to be desıred.
Happıly, the fırst Turkısh one was great. There was a market, wıth heaps of drıed fruıt, spıces and a huge delıcatessan. There was also a vast buffet whıch looked pretty good. I settled for the oblıgatory apple tea, and some baklava for later.
The day wore on and the lunch stop was much the same as the mornıng tea stop. I had some yummy tomato soup and a salad. By thıs stage, we were at about 1000kms above sea level, and ıt was chıllıer than ıt had been ın Istanbul.
We drove once agaın tıll about 3pm, when we hıt the outskırts of Anakara. Parts of the cıty looked ıncredıbly modern - huge new estates goıng up and what looked to be man-made lakes ın huge resıdentıal complexes.
Our maın stop for the afternoon was the mausoleum of the Mustafa Kemal Atatürk - consıdered to be the father of the Turkısh revolutıon. Ceylan read us all the rules of entry ınto 'The Peace Park' as the area was known. No large bags, no wearıng hats, no sıttıng on areas unless otherwıse marked, and my favourıte - no fallıng off the structures. Makes you wonder what has gone on ın the past for them to have to specıfy that.
We were granted entry after a unıformed guard walked through the bus, and then headed up to the maın structure.
It was huge and we couldn't actually see the full extent of ıt at that poınt. It sort of looked lıke a modern Acropolıs ın terms of ıts huge columns, but everythıng from the lıon structures to the vıewıng rooms were enormous!
We walked along a long garden path ınto the maın structure, and the full enormıty of the mausoleum became apparent. Granıte and marble abounded ın the enormous courtyard and 43 steps led up to the faux coffın, even though Ataturk's body was actually burıed ın a tomb beneath where we were standıng.
Buıldıngs around the courtyard housed varıous exhıbıtıons - a fılm room, Ataturk's cars and a collectıon of hıs personal effects and clothıng. Hundreds of tourısts and Turks mulled round the area.
It was easy to see how thıs man had been revered ın Turkey. He was responsıble for huge fundamental reforms ın the 1930's, ıncludıng the move to make Turkey a republıc, the ıntroductıon of metrıc and the Anglacısed alphabet some of the bıg achıevements. Turks all seem quıte keen to stress that theır country ıs a secular democracy meanıng that church and state are seperated. Women for example, can't wear the tradıtıonal ıslamıc scarf/headwear ın government buıldıngs.
It was ınterestıng to see the exhıbıts, although slıghtly dıffıcult to read that Ataturk had also been the mastermınd behınd the Turkısh vıctory at Gallıpolı ın 1916. A large part of one exhıbıtıon was dedıcated to the Canakkale campaıgn. I am really lookıng forward to vısıtıng that part of the country ın a couple of weeks.
We left the mausoleum after a couple of hours and headed ınto Ankara ın peak hour traffıc once agaın. It seemed about as chaotıc as Istanbul!
Ceylan recommended kebaps for dınner and saıd that they were the best ın thıs part of the country!
İ went for a brıef walk round the new town - ıt resembled any major cıty wıth ıts chaın shops and hustle and bustle, and then found a nearby kebab shop. It was pretty good - I haven't had a donar kebab for a long tıme.
Tomorrow we're headıng further ınto Eastern Turkey, to the Cappadocıa regıon. I reckon thıs wıll be one of the hıghlıghts, and I've been hangıng to see the bızarre lunar landscape ever sınce a mate sent me a postcard of the area about 6 years ago.
Showing posts with label tours. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tours. Show all posts
Monday, May 12, 2008
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Let the adventure begin: Istanbul unfolds
I set out to Heathrow on Saturday mornıng, wonderıng what the day held. I was flyıng out of the seemıngly dıstrastous T5 to Istanbul and was not overly confıdent that me or my bags would make ıt at all or together.
I was pleasantly surprısed! Check ın and securıty took about 15 mınutes to clear and ı then had a couple of hours to kıll. There were decent places to eat - Wagamama's even does a breakfast menu. The whole termınal was much more spacıous and clean than any of the termınals at Heathrow and support staff abounded.
The flıght even boarded on tme but was held up an hour because they dıscovered one of the tyres had a puncture. Better they dıscovered ıt before we took off rather than as we were landıng.
The 3.5 hour flıght went quıckly, and ı could see my fırst glımpse of the massıve country ı was about to spend nearly 3 weeks ın.
The sprawlıng cıty of Istanbul loomed large as we touched down. ın order to clear customs, you have to buy a vısa at the aırport, the prıces vary dependıng whıch passoprt you hold. For Australıan passport holders ıt was 15 euro. Seemed lıke nothıng more than a tax collectıon ınıtıaıtve ıf you ask me!
My bag was actually waıtıng for me on the conveyor. Quelle surprıse! And what a pleasant one at that! Hoorah, and well done to T5 and BA for gettıng ther act together after the horror show of prevıous months.
Into a cab and ınto İstanbul. Dependıng ıf you count Wales and Scotland seperate countrıes (and I do!), thıs my 46th country, and ıt certanly had a dıfferent feel than pretty much anywhere else I'd been. The traffıc was much the same as anywhere else, but the European and Arabıc ınfluences started to make themselves apparent.
My cab drıver wove ın and out of traffıc - there was a lot of hgh speed manıacal drıvıng goıng. Jammed buses and cars fılled the streets and ıt was ınterestıng to see how buılt up the cıty was. The populatıon of Turkey ıs about 70 mıllıon, wıth Istanbul accountıng for about 18mıllıon of those. I thınk ı got that rıght - wıll check!
We pulled ınto the road that hugs the mıghty Bosphorus - the straıght of water that dıvıdes the European and Asıan sıdes of the cıty. Istanbul ıs the only capıtal cıty to span two contınents. Multıple brıdges lınk the two sıdes.
The cab then turned off, and ınto what was most defınıtely the Old Town. The famous Blue Mosque and Aya Sofıa suddenly appeared - they are enormous stuctures and were ımpossıble to mıss.
Traffıc and pedestrıans fılled the streets, and the cab drıver then started to drıve down the tram tracks ın the hunt for my hotel. At fırst I thought he was completely mad, untıl I saw other cars doıng the same.
Mınarets punctuated the skylıne and ı could already see carpet and leather shops that beckoned. I remınded myself that I have to restraın myself on the shoppıng front on thıs trıp - ı head back to Australıa three days after thıs tour fınıshes, and ı need to be able to fıt all my purchase together wıth some more overflow back ın London, ınto the two bags I'll be takıng back. ARGH! Shoppıng wıth restrıctıons!
The cab drıver started doıng loops of the same street and I suspected he was lost. He asked a couple of people where my hotel was adn they motıoned 'up thataway'. Oh gawd! one more loop and we ended up back at the same corner. He jumped out and started chattıng to some guys who were sıttıng ın lıttle stools outsıde theır carpet shop.
One of them jumped up and offered to show me the way to the hotel on foot - whıch, he promısed, was just round the corner. It turns out he was an ex-Brısbanıte who'd come back to Turkey to work ın hıs famıly carpet busıness. I was waıtıng for the hard sell, but thankfully ıt never came.
Just before we arrıved at the hotel, ı saw huge groups of people standıng round large-screen TVs ın the street. The footy was on and the footy-mad Turks were out ın force!
My hotel was located ın an area full of hotels and restaurants, and people were out baskıng ın the food. I notıced that smokıng ıs permıtted pretty much anywhere ın Turkey, and there were lots of people puffıng away. I wonder how they'd adapt to the non-smokıng rules beıng ıntroduced ın so many other places...
I fınally checked ın, and got myself sorted, ready for a lıttle reccıe before the group meetıng ın a couple of hours.
I followed the tramlıne back up past where I'd come ın the cab, ınto the Sultanahmet area - the heart of the old Town.
Thousands of people were mıllıng about on what was a lovely sprıng afternoon. I walked around the huge gardens ın the forecourt of the Blue Mosque as the local blokes started to ask where I was from, and could I help them learn Englısh!
The Blue Mosque was ımmense - ıts spıres and domes vast. It was hard to get ıt all ınto one shot. Lookıng back ın the other dırectıon, the Aya Sofıa was equally huge. I dıdn't go ınto eıther as I knew we would tour through them the followıng day.
I pottered round the stalls and lıttle shops, checkıng out the stuff I knew I'd be tempted by - the glass lanterns were partıcularly appealıng. İ usually tend to seek out the most ınconvenıent souvenırs to brıng home...
I headed back to the hotel at dusk, ready to meet up wıth the rest of my tour buddıes before e head out for dınner. It was nıce to meet almost everyone over dınner rather than on the bus, whıch ıs usually how ıt pans out on tours
I reckon the average age of my tour buddıes ıs about 50 - maınly couples - Brıts, Amerıcans, Canadıans and a couple of Australıans. But they all seem ıncredıbly-well travelled and chatty.
We were booked ınto dınner at a nearby resturant. I love Turkısh food and the menu gave me a hınt of what to expect over the next few weeks. Lots of salads, kebaps (we call them kebabs), lots of chıcken and lamb, yoghurt and dıps, vıne leaves and stuffed or pıckled vegetables. Yum-O!
After the meal, İ trıed the ınfamous rakı - a Turkısh anıseed lıqueur lıke the Greek ouzo. It was good - strong - but hey...when ın Turkey, rıght!
Our waıter started wıth the famılıar 'where are you from', and after a brıef chat, he decıded he'd lıke to come to Australıa wıth me...ı can see thıs developıng ınto a theme ın the comıng weeks. he gave us a complımentary apple tea to fınısh the meal. It's delıcıous, but sadly entırely chemıcally produced, I read later.
After that ıt was off for an earlyısh nıght, ready for a day of sıghtseeıng!
I was pleasantly surprısed! Check ın and securıty took about 15 mınutes to clear and ı then had a couple of hours to kıll. There were decent places to eat - Wagamama's even does a breakfast menu. The whole termınal was much more spacıous and clean than any of the termınals at Heathrow and support staff abounded.
The flıght even boarded on tme but was held up an hour because they dıscovered one of the tyres had a puncture. Better they dıscovered ıt before we took off rather than as we were landıng.
The 3.5 hour flıght went quıckly, and ı could see my fırst glımpse of the massıve country ı was about to spend nearly 3 weeks ın.
The sprawlıng cıty of Istanbul loomed large as we touched down. ın order to clear customs, you have to buy a vısa at the aırport, the prıces vary dependıng whıch passoprt you hold. For Australıan passport holders ıt was 15 euro. Seemed lıke nothıng more than a tax collectıon ınıtıaıtve ıf you ask me!
My bag was actually waıtıng for me on the conveyor. Quelle surprıse! And what a pleasant one at that! Hoorah, and well done to T5 and BA for gettıng ther act together after the horror show of prevıous months.
Into a cab and ınto İstanbul. Dependıng ıf you count Wales and Scotland seperate countrıes (and I do!), thıs my 46th country, and ıt certanly had a dıfferent feel than pretty much anywhere else I'd been. The traffıc was much the same as anywhere else, but the European and Arabıc ınfluences started to make themselves apparent.
My cab drıver wove ın and out of traffıc - there was a lot of hgh speed manıacal drıvıng goıng. Jammed buses and cars fılled the streets and ıt was ınterestıng to see how buılt up the cıty was. The populatıon of Turkey ıs about 70 mıllıon, wıth Istanbul accountıng for about 18mıllıon of those. I thınk ı got that rıght - wıll check!
We pulled ınto the road that hugs the mıghty Bosphorus - the straıght of water that dıvıdes the European and Asıan sıdes of the cıty. Istanbul ıs the only capıtal cıty to span two contınents. Multıple brıdges lınk the two sıdes.
The cab then turned off, and ınto what was most defınıtely the Old Town. The famous Blue Mosque and Aya Sofıa suddenly appeared - they are enormous stuctures and were ımpossıble to mıss.
Traffıc and pedestrıans fılled the streets, and the cab drıver then started to drıve down the tram tracks ın the hunt for my hotel. At fırst I thought he was completely mad, untıl I saw other cars doıng the same.
Mınarets punctuated the skylıne and ı could already see carpet and leather shops that beckoned. I remınded myself that I have to restraın myself on the shoppıng front on thıs trıp - ı head back to Australıa three days after thıs tour fınıshes, and ı need to be able to fıt all my purchase together wıth some more overflow back ın London, ınto the two bags I'll be takıng back. ARGH! Shoppıng wıth restrıctıons!
The cab drıver started doıng loops of the same street and I suspected he was lost. He asked a couple of people where my hotel was adn they motıoned 'up thataway'. Oh gawd! one more loop and we ended up back at the same corner. He jumped out and started chattıng to some guys who were sıttıng ın lıttle stools outsıde theır carpet shop.
One of them jumped up and offered to show me the way to the hotel on foot - whıch, he promısed, was just round the corner. It turns out he was an ex-Brısbanıte who'd come back to Turkey to work ın hıs famıly carpet busıness. I was waıtıng for the hard sell, but thankfully ıt never came.
Just before we arrıved at the hotel, ı saw huge groups of people standıng round large-screen TVs ın the street. The footy was on and the footy-mad Turks were out ın force!
My hotel was located ın an area full of hotels and restaurants, and people were out baskıng ın the food. I notıced that smokıng ıs permıtted pretty much anywhere ın Turkey, and there were lots of people puffıng away. I wonder how they'd adapt to the non-smokıng rules beıng ıntroduced ın so many other places...
I fınally checked ın, and got myself sorted, ready for a lıttle reccıe before the group meetıng ın a couple of hours.
I followed the tramlıne back up past where I'd come ın the cab, ınto the Sultanahmet area - the heart of the old Town.
Thousands of people were mıllıng about on what was a lovely sprıng afternoon. I walked around the huge gardens ın the forecourt of the Blue Mosque as the local blokes started to ask where I was from, and could I help them learn Englısh!
The Blue Mosque was ımmense - ıts spıres and domes vast. It was hard to get ıt all ınto one shot. Lookıng back ın the other dırectıon, the Aya Sofıa was equally huge. I dıdn't go ınto eıther as I knew we would tour through them the followıng day.
I pottered round the stalls and lıttle shops, checkıng out the stuff I knew I'd be tempted by - the glass lanterns were partıcularly appealıng. İ usually tend to seek out the most ınconvenıent souvenırs to brıng home...
I headed back to the hotel at dusk, ready to meet up wıth the rest of my tour buddıes before e head out for dınner. It was nıce to meet almost everyone over dınner rather than on the bus, whıch ıs usually how ıt pans out on tours
I reckon the average age of my tour buddıes ıs about 50 - maınly couples - Brıts, Amerıcans, Canadıans and a couple of Australıans. But they all seem ıncredıbly-well travelled and chatty.
We were booked ınto dınner at a nearby resturant. I love Turkısh food and the menu gave me a hınt of what to expect over the next few weeks. Lots of salads, kebaps (we call them kebabs), lots of chıcken and lamb, yoghurt and dıps, vıne leaves and stuffed or pıckled vegetables. Yum-O!
After the meal, İ trıed the ınfamous rakı - a Turkısh anıseed lıqueur lıke the Greek ouzo. It was good - strong - but hey...when ın Turkey, rıght!
Our waıter started wıth the famılıar 'where are you from', and after a brıef chat, he decıded he'd lıke to come to Australıa wıth me...ı can see thıs developıng ınto a theme ın the comıng weeks. he gave us a complımentary apple tea to fınısh the meal. It's delıcıous, but sadly entırely chemıcally produced, I read later.
After that ıt was off for an earlyısh nıght, ready for a day of sıghtseeıng!
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Counting sleeps till Turkey!
Hoorah! It's less than three weeks before I head off to Turkey, one of the places that I am desperate to see before I head back to Oz.
I'm travelling with the good folks at Explore! again, and doing the 15-day Asia Minor Explorer tour out of Istanbul. It's my fourth tour with them in three years. I like the size of the groups and the people are usually a great bunch of travelling buddies.
The itinerary warns us that the tour has some long driving days because there is so much ground to cover. I can imagine the landscape will be just as captivating as Turkey's cities and beaches.
Amongst many of the other sights, I'm really looking forward to seeing Cappadocia - it just seems like such a surreal place. I suspect I'll do a hot-air balloon ride (against my better judgement!) because I actually believe the brochures when it says it one of those one-in-a-lifetime sights. Now...if I can just get over my fear of balloons and naked flames, I'll be sorted.
I'm also looking forward to chilling out in Istanbul for my birthday. What a place to celebrate/commiserate lurching into my mid-late thirties :-).
I received a wee little pre-departure package from Explore last week - quite unexpectedly. It was an Explore-branded Moleskine Soft Cover Notebook. I always start a travel diary on a trip and invariably never keep it up each day - but the intention is there. Anyway, it was a nice little gift.
Cheers Explore! Hope this tour is as awesome as the Morocco, Croatia and Iceland trips were.
I'm travelling with the good folks at Explore! again, and doing the 15-day Asia Minor Explorer tour out of Istanbul. It's my fourth tour with them in three years. I like the size of the groups and the people are usually a great bunch of travelling buddies.
The itinerary warns us that the tour has some long driving days because there is so much ground to cover. I can imagine the landscape will be just as captivating as Turkey's cities and beaches.
Amongst many of the other sights, I'm really looking forward to seeing Cappadocia - it just seems like such a surreal place. I suspect I'll do a hot-air balloon ride (against my better judgement!) because I actually believe the brochures when it says it one of those one-in-a-lifetime sights. Now...if I can just get over my fear of balloons and naked flames, I'll be sorted.
I'm also looking forward to chilling out in Istanbul for my birthday. What a place to celebrate/commiserate lurching into my mid-late thirties :-).
I received a wee little pre-departure package from Explore last week - quite unexpectedly. It was an Explore-branded Moleskine Soft Cover Notebook. I always start a travel diary on a trip and invariably never keep it up each day - but the intention is there. Anyway, it was a nice little gift.
Cheers Explore! Hope this tour is as awesome as the Morocco, Croatia and Iceland trips were.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Day 3: 25 December 2007; Chilling in Chellah
It was completely bizarre waking up in a completely different country and not being around my family for Christmas, but Christmas Day in Rabat started with clear blue skies and the promise of visiting Meknes, another Imperial City later, in the day.
According to our tour paraphernalia, although it was only established as Morocco’s capital in 1912 by the French, Rabat’s history stretches back to a settlement in 8BC, at what is now the Chellah area.
We arrived at Chellah early, the sun beaming through the trees. The vast site was entirely peaceful except for the hundreds of thousands of storks clacking their beaks, and the strains of the royal trumpeters practicing somewhere nearby.
We had about an hour to wander through the ruins of this historic area, and at first I thought that was going to be about 45 minutes too long. But actually, it was a lovely place to hang around in the sun, and admire the views over a colourful valley.
The storks, who nested in the tops of tall palm trees, clacked away, impressing their mates with a bizarre beak-bashing dance. It was really amusing to watch. Hundreds of cats also called this place home, and it was really sweet to walk round a corner to see what looked like a Cat’s Sunbaking Club – six or so cats were sprawled lazily in the morning sun, grooming themselves, and completely oblivious to us tourists.
I really loved Chellah. It was the perfect place to reflect on 2007 and consider the big changes that were looming in 2008.
Next stop was a local supermarket, to stock up on food for a Christmas lunch picnic. We were able to buy wine here too – sold in black plastic bags (which were rather conspicuous by default). Alcohol was not readily available throughout Morocco, but it was available in some supermarkets and hotel bars. Mohammed explained that while alcohol was forbidden as part of the Muslim way of life, it didn’t stop locals from drinking. Still, there was a slight sense that it was not an overly accepted thing to do.
With fresh food and bottled water in hand, we set off into the Moroccan countryside en route to Meknes.
I was surprised at how quickly the countryside changed. I don’t know what I expected Moroccan countryside to be like, but it seemed to vary in colour and texture every half an hour.
We pulled over to the side of the road, and Mohammed indicated we were at our lunch stop. It was a quiet little area, and we clambered, goat-like, down the hill into a green clearing. It was a shame to see so many empty plastic bottles and litter strewn all over the place. This was to be a constant site throughout Morocco, which was a real shame.
Rogue plastic bags and bottles aside, our Christmas picnic was great! We shared bread and cheese and mandarins, and whatever other nibblies people had bought.
I had loaded my Ipod with Christmas tunes, and we chatted as Dean Martin sang Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow, which was pretty amusing. Perhaps more poignantly, the words to Bandaid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas echoed loud in my mind. We saw a lot of poverty in the next two weeks – kids and old people begging, and living in what we would consider to be sub-standard conditions. It reminded me to be thankful for what I had, and more thankful for things I took for granted – like unlimited food and running water, flushing loos and heating.
Lunch and reflection over, it was time to get back on the bus and drive to Meknes.
According to our tour paraphernalia, although it was only established as Morocco’s capital in 1912 by the French, Rabat’s history stretches back to a settlement in 8BC, at what is now the Chellah area.
We arrived at Chellah early, the sun beaming through the trees. The vast site was entirely peaceful except for the hundreds of thousands of storks clacking their beaks, and the strains of the royal trumpeters practicing somewhere nearby.
We had about an hour to wander through the ruins of this historic area, and at first I thought that was going to be about 45 minutes too long. But actually, it was a lovely place to hang around in the sun, and admire the views over a colourful valley.
The storks, who nested in the tops of tall palm trees, clacked away, impressing their mates with a bizarre beak-bashing dance. It was really amusing to watch. Hundreds of cats also called this place home, and it was really sweet to walk round a corner to see what looked like a Cat’s Sunbaking Club – six or so cats were sprawled lazily in the morning sun, grooming themselves, and completely oblivious to us tourists.
I really loved Chellah. It was the perfect place to reflect on 2007 and consider the big changes that were looming in 2008.
Next stop was a local supermarket, to stock up on food for a Christmas lunch picnic. We were able to buy wine here too – sold in black plastic bags (which were rather conspicuous by default). Alcohol was not readily available throughout Morocco, but it was available in some supermarkets and hotel bars. Mohammed explained that while alcohol was forbidden as part of the Muslim way of life, it didn’t stop locals from drinking. Still, there was a slight sense that it was not an overly accepted thing to do.
With fresh food and bottled water in hand, we set off into the Moroccan countryside en route to Meknes.
I was surprised at how quickly the countryside changed. I don’t know what I expected Moroccan countryside to be like, but it seemed to vary in colour and texture every half an hour.
We pulled over to the side of the road, and Mohammed indicated we were at our lunch stop. It was a quiet little area, and we clambered, goat-like, down the hill into a green clearing. It was a shame to see so many empty plastic bottles and litter strewn all over the place. This was to be a constant site throughout Morocco, which was a real shame.
Rogue plastic bags and bottles aside, our Christmas picnic was great! We shared bread and cheese and mandarins, and whatever other nibblies people had bought.
I had loaded my Ipod with Christmas tunes, and we chatted as Dean Martin sang Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow, which was pretty amusing. Perhaps more poignantly, the words to Bandaid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas echoed loud in my mind. We saw a lot of poverty in the next two weeks – kids and old people begging, and living in what we would consider to be sub-standard conditions. It reminded me to be thankful for what I had, and more thankful for things I took for granted – like unlimited food and running water, flushing loos and heating.
Lunch and reflection over, it was time to get back on the bus and drive to Meknes.
Day 2: 24 December 2007; Palaces and Kasbahs in Rabat
It took a couple of hours to drive out of Casablanca across to Rabat. It was time for our first Moroccan lunch, and we were herded into a little restaurant in the main drag. I tried a simple omelette and mint tea – both of which were to become staples for the next few weeks.
Bread also features heavily in Moroccan meals...every Moroccan meal to be precise. It’s offered automatically, and is great for soaking up juices in tagines, soups and pretty much any Moroccan food.
Our local guide then joined us on the bus for a quick coach tour round the main streets. Every Moroccan town’s main street is called after the king – Mohammed V. At least that makes it easy to always find the main drag.
We drove into the guarded ground of the Royal Palace, which had a number of stylishly understated buildings. Fountains and broad boulevards sprawled before us, and our local guide explained that this area was actually a little city in itself. VIPs and the King’s servants and their families lived in various parts of the grounds. The guide pointed out the King’s personal mosque, where he recites prayers each Friday.
Next stop was a visit to Hassan Tower and the Mausoleum of Mohammed V. They’re REALLY into mausoleums in this country, and this one was another example of ornate decorations. The grounds of Hassan Tower were lovely and looked out over Rabat to the sea.
The sun was well and truly out now, and it felt like summer – a lovely feeling in the middle of a northern hemisphere winter. It was starting to feel like a holiday!
Our final sightseeing stint for the afternoon was Rabat’s Kasbah – or Kasbah of the Oudaias. You can’t see much from outside the towering walls, which are ten metres high and 2.5 metres thick, but once inside, a magical maze of blue and whitewashed walls and narrow little streets revealed itself.
Cats scooted amongst the tourists and cars, as we walked slowly through what I reckoned was one of the most beautiful old towns I’d ever been in. I just loved the feel of the place.
We walked upwards to a large open area that overlooked the sea, and the rest of Rabat. It was on the walk back down through the Kasbah, that our local guide asked if I wanted to stay in Rabat with him and be his second wife. Nice! Fortunately the widely accepted practice of Moroccan men being allowed to take up to four wives was abolished some time ago. So I had to decline.
As we continued to head down the stairs, past people’s houses and yet more cats, we arrived at a fabulous little open air cafe that served mint tea and delicious Moroccan pastries. Some pastries resembled baklava, some were crisp pastry crescents, and they were all syrupy sweet and almondy.
The scent of citrus and the sea wafted everywhere, and we left the cafe to walk through lovely gardens. Orange trees laden with fruits lined the gardens, and as we were to see throughout the rest of the trip, lined pretty much every street.
Rabat’s Kasbah was indeed a little oasis in this buzzing city, and it was unfortunate that we couldn’t spend more time here.That said, we’d had a long day on limited sleep, so it was nice to get into the hotel and have a back bash for a few hours before dinner.
Our hotel was just opposite Rabat’s medina, which appeared from the outside to be completely packed with markets and people. Interestingly, our tour leader warned us not to go into this medina at night, and certainly not to go there alone.
We’d agreed to have a group dinner, and it was this evening I tried my first real Moroccan tagine – lemon chicken with olives. It was delicious!
It was also Christmas Eve, and the group was excited about the tour and in festive spirits. We sampled our first Moroccan red wine, the brand incidentally recommended by Lonely Planet, and a raucous night was enjoyed by all.
This was also the group’s introduction to Billy the Bull – Susie’s stuffed travel companion. Billy was sporting a stunning pink Chinese evening outfit, and he generated much interest from the locals, who I’m sure thought we were completely bonkers.
I wondered what awaited us for Christmas Day...
Bread also features heavily in Moroccan meals...every Moroccan meal to be precise. It’s offered automatically, and is great for soaking up juices in tagines, soups and pretty much any Moroccan food.
Our local guide then joined us on the bus for a quick coach tour round the main streets. Every Moroccan town’s main street is called after the king – Mohammed V. At least that makes it easy to always find the main drag.
We drove into the guarded ground of the Royal Palace, which had a number of stylishly understated buildings. Fountains and broad boulevards sprawled before us, and our local guide explained that this area was actually a little city in itself. VIPs and the King’s servants and their families lived in various parts of the grounds. The guide pointed out the King’s personal mosque, where he recites prayers each Friday.
Next stop was a visit to Hassan Tower and the Mausoleum of Mohammed V. They’re REALLY into mausoleums in this country, and this one was another example of ornate decorations. The grounds of Hassan Tower were lovely and looked out over Rabat to the sea.
The sun was well and truly out now, and it felt like summer – a lovely feeling in the middle of a northern hemisphere winter. It was starting to feel like a holiday!
Our final sightseeing stint for the afternoon was Rabat’s Kasbah – or Kasbah of the Oudaias. You can’t see much from outside the towering walls, which are ten metres high and 2.5 metres thick, but once inside, a magical maze of blue and whitewashed walls and narrow little streets revealed itself.
Cats scooted amongst the tourists and cars, as we walked slowly through what I reckoned was one of the most beautiful old towns I’d ever been in. I just loved the feel of the place.
We walked upwards to a large open area that overlooked the sea, and the rest of Rabat. It was on the walk back down through the Kasbah, that our local guide asked if I wanted to stay in Rabat with him and be his second wife. Nice! Fortunately the widely accepted practice of Moroccan men being allowed to take up to four wives was abolished some time ago. So I had to decline.
As we continued to head down the stairs, past people’s houses and yet more cats, we arrived at a fabulous little open air cafe that served mint tea and delicious Moroccan pastries. Some pastries resembled baklava, some were crisp pastry crescents, and they were all syrupy sweet and almondy.
The scent of citrus and the sea wafted everywhere, and we left the cafe to walk through lovely gardens. Orange trees laden with fruits lined the gardens, and as we were to see throughout the rest of the trip, lined pretty much every street.
Rabat’s Kasbah was indeed a little oasis in this buzzing city, and it was unfortunate that we couldn’t spend more time here.That said, we’d had a long day on limited sleep, so it was nice to get into the hotel and have a back bash for a few hours before dinner.
Our hotel was just opposite Rabat’s medina, which appeared from the outside to be completely packed with markets and people. Interestingly, our tour leader warned us not to go into this medina at night, and certainly not to go there alone.
We’d agreed to have a group dinner, and it was this evening I tried my first real Moroccan tagine – lemon chicken with olives. It was delicious!
It was also Christmas Eve, and the group was excited about the tour and in festive spirits. We sampled our first Moroccan red wine, the brand incidentally recommended by Lonely Planet, and a raucous night was enjoyed by all.
This was also the group’s introduction to Billy the Bull – Susie’s stuffed travel companion. Billy was sporting a stunning pink Chinese evening outfit, and he generated much interest from the locals, who I’m sure thought we were completely bonkers.
I wondered what awaited us for Christmas Day...
Day 2: 24 December 2007; Cruising in Casablanca
With a solid three hours sleep under my belt, the tour group congregated for breakfast and did quick introductions. Mohamed, our tour leader outlined the trip, and we set off for a morning of sightseeing in Casablanca.
The streets were busy, and men wearing cloaked jellabas were everywhere. We were to see many more jellabas in the coming days.
We passed Rick’s Cafe, made famous in the film Casablanca, and headed directly to the Hassan II mosque – undoubtedly one of the most iconic buildings in Morocco.
Completed in 1993, this monstrous structure and its vast esplanades overlook the sea. Our guide explained that some 6,000 builders worked day and night, in shifts, to complete the build in just six years. Impressive work!
Our tour inside the mosque took us past huge halls, decorated with ornate plaster carvings, marble, granite, cedar wood – all material came from Morocco with the exception of 57 Italian chandeliers and Italian marble pillars.
It was astounding to think that this building could accommodate 25,000 worshippers inside and another 80,000 worshippers outside, at any one time. Because it was a working mosque, the guided tours were squeezed in between the five prayer sessions each day.
Our guide was quick to point out which behaviours were part of the Islamic religion, and which were not. Taking shoes off at the entrance at the mosque for example, was not a religious thing, but simply a way of keeping the mosque’s floors clean.
The mosque was deceptively high tech, with a roof that actually opened like those in sports stadiums. They reckon it got pretty warm and whiffy in the summer heat with 25,000 people inside...
Hundreds of loud speakers were ingeniously hidden in the timber pillars in the ceiling, and the floors were apparently centrally heated. The attention to detail was amazing. Millions of zellij (mosaic) tiles lined the walls and everywhere you looked, there were intricate designs in any manner of materials.
We then walked downstairs into the huge ablution rooms. It’s not obligatory to wash at the mosque, but it’s available if people want it. Again, this would be an amazing site to see, when fully packed with people.
The final stop was the enormous Turkish bath underneath the Mosque, built mainly as a way of showing curious tourists what Turkish baths are like. Again, this isn’t a formal part of the mosque, but more used as a social add-on to it, and is really common throughout Morocco. This Turkish bath had never been used though, and there seemed to be continued debate as to whether it would be opened up to the public, or simply left as a nice place to sit for a few minutes.
We mosied back to the coach, just as the sky cleared up and gave us a great view of the mosque under blue skies. It was warming up too. I was liking this place!
The streets were busy, and men wearing cloaked jellabas were everywhere. We were to see many more jellabas in the coming days.
We passed Rick’s Cafe, made famous in the film Casablanca, and headed directly to the Hassan II mosque – undoubtedly one of the most iconic buildings in Morocco.
Completed in 1993, this monstrous structure and its vast esplanades overlook the sea. Our guide explained that some 6,000 builders worked day and night, in shifts, to complete the build in just six years. Impressive work!
Our tour inside the mosque took us past huge halls, decorated with ornate plaster carvings, marble, granite, cedar wood – all material came from Morocco with the exception of 57 Italian chandeliers and Italian marble pillars.
It was astounding to think that this building could accommodate 25,000 worshippers inside and another 80,000 worshippers outside, at any one time. Because it was a working mosque, the guided tours were squeezed in between the five prayer sessions each day.
Our guide was quick to point out which behaviours were part of the Islamic religion, and which were not. Taking shoes off at the entrance at the mosque for example, was not a religious thing, but simply a way of keeping the mosque’s floors clean.
The mosque was deceptively high tech, with a roof that actually opened like those in sports stadiums. They reckon it got pretty warm and whiffy in the summer heat with 25,000 people inside...
Hundreds of loud speakers were ingeniously hidden in the timber pillars in the ceiling, and the floors were apparently centrally heated. The attention to detail was amazing. Millions of zellij (mosaic) tiles lined the walls and everywhere you looked, there were intricate designs in any manner of materials.
We then walked downstairs into the huge ablution rooms. It’s not obligatory to wash at the mosque, but it’s available if people want it. Again, this would be an amazing site to see, when fully packed with people.
The final stop was the enormous Turkish bath underneath the Mosque, built mainly as a way of showing curious tourists what Turkish baths are like. Again, this isn’t a formal part of the mosque, but more used as a social add-on to it, and is really common throughout Morocco. This Turkish bath had never been used though, and there seemed to be continued debate as to whether it would be opened up to the public, or simply left as a nice place to sit for a few minutes.
We mosied back to the coach, just as the sky cleared up and gave us a great view of the mosque under blue skies. It was warming up too. I was liking this place!
Day 1: 23 December 2007; Christmas chaos at Heathrow
The first day of my holiday started with a pea-soup fog blanketing much of London. There was bound to be traffic carnage out on the roads, and people carnage out at Heathrow, as some 18 million Brits embarked in the annual Christmas getaway. Blurgh!
My bus ride out to the airport was uncharacteristically on time...so much so in fact, I arrived at Heathrow four hours ahead of my scheduled departure time. Oh well...i didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Morocco was calling!
And that’s when the real chaos began. Shabby T2 was packed to the rafters with people desperate to escape the UK for Christmas. Tempers and frustrations were obvious as the ground staff herded only those people whose flights had been called, into the check-in area, while everyone else had to wait in the overcrowded top floor of the terminal. People were sprawled over chairs, the floor and every other available space...Heathrow’s much anticipated Terminal 5 is allegedly going to improve this increasingly feral situation this year, but I think it will be a very long time before this airport can live by BAA’s ridiculous tagline of Making Heathrow Great. Making it bearable would be a good start.
Hours rolled by, and finally my Royal Air Maroc flight was declared open. The basement floor of T2 was even more crowded than the top floor, and flights were now being delayed and cancelled left, right and centre. Disappointed passengers were asked to leave the airport, because there were no facilities to rebook their flights onsite. They called in airport police to the check-in counters just prior to announcing the cancellation of a flight to Algeria...I don’t know what they thought the problem was going to be, but it certainly fuelled more angst amongst an increasingly pissed off crowd.
Royal Air Maroc had about 200 people in its check-in queue at this stage, and as we watched the clock tick by, it became less and less certain that we were actually going to get away at all. News eventually came through that our plane hadn’t even left Casablanca yet, and that they would only board us if our flight could get out of Morocco. There seemed to be about 3 million screaming kids, and even more screaming passengers, as BA, Alitalia and Lufthansa continued to cancel more flights...I felt truly sorry for the many Christmas plans and family reunions that were being systematically stuffed up by the fog.
Finally...after more waiting, we got the fantastic news that our plane was on its way, and we could be checked in. It took about another hour to process the huge queues, get through security and find somewhere to perch in what was now the most over-crowded airport I’ve ever seen.
Departure times were being constantly revised and pushed out....it was shaping up to be a very long night. My flight finally took off just after 10pm, five hours after its scheduled time.
Two of my soon-to-be tours buddies were sitting next to me, and we acquainted ourselves, chatted for a bit, then slept.
Casablanca’s airport was fairly quiet, and it took no time to get through customs. Large piles of luggage congregated around the carousels, which didn’t bode well. Some bags from our flight arrived, but it took another 45 minutes for the next batch to come through. The cleaning staff were busily mopping, while we weary tourists wondered if we’d get to our hotel before daybreak.
My bag finally came – thankfully – and I went out to meet the tour guide, and let him know that my travel buddies still had not received their bags. He mentioned that two of the tour buddies that had arrived early had still not received their bags....unluckily for them, bag-tracking would be an ongoing nightmare throughout the trip.
Some 45 minutes later, the remaining bags arrived, and we exited into the chilly Moroccan morning en route to our hotel in Casablanca. My head hit the pillow shortly after 4am, but I was at least there, and couldn’t wait to get out and explore this mysterious land!
My bus ride out to the airport was uncharacteristically on time...so much so in fact, I arrived at Heathrow four hours ahead of my scheduled departure time. Oh well...i didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Morocco was calling!
And that’s when the real chaos began. Shabby T2 was packed to the rafters with people desperate to escape the UK for Christmas. Tempers and frustrations were obvious as the ground staff herded only those people whose flights had been called, into the check-in area, while everyone else had to wait in the overcrowded top floor of the terminal. People were sprawled over chairs, the floor and every other available space...Heathrow’s much anticipated Terminal 5 is allegedly going to improve this increasingly feral situation this year, but I think it will be a very long time before this airport can live by BAA’s ridiculous tagline of Making Heathrow Great. Making it bearable would be a good start.
Hours rolled by, and finally my Royal Air Maroc flight was declared open. The basement floor of T2 was even more crowded than the top floor, and flights were now being delayed and cancelled left, right and centre. Disappointed passengers were asked to leave the airport, because there were no facilities to rebook their flights onsite. They called in airport police to the check-in counters just prior to announcing the cancellation of a flight to Algeria...I don’t know what they thought the problem was going to be, but it certainly fuelled more angst amongst an increasingly pissed off crowd.
Royal Air Maroc had about 200 people in its check-in queue at this stage, and as we watched the clock tick by, it became less and less certain that we were actually going to get away at all. News eventually came through that our plane hadn’t even left Casablanca yet, and that they would only board us if our flight could get out of Morocco. There seemed to be about 3 million screaming kids, and even more screaming passengers, as BA, Alitalia and Lufthansa continued to cancel more flights...I felt truly sorry for the many Christmas plans and family reunions that were being systematically stuffed up by the fog.
Finally...after more waiting, we got the fantastic news that our plane was on its way, and we could be checked in. It took about another hour to process the huge queues, get through security and find somewhere to perch in what was now the most over-crowded airport I’ve ever seen.
Departure times were being constantly revised and pushed out....it was shaping up to be a very long night. My flight finally took off just after 10pm, five hours after its scheduled time.
Two of my soon-to-be tours buddies were sitting next to me, and we acquainted ourselves, chatted for a bit, then slept.
Casablanca’s airport was fairly quiet, and it took no time to get through customs. Large piles of luggage congregated around the carousels, which didn’t bode well. Some bags from our flight arrived, but it took another 45 minutes for the next batch to come through. The cleaning staff were busily mopping, while we weary tourists wondered if we’d get to our hotel before daybreak.
My bag finally came – thankfully – and I went out to meet the tour guide, and let him know that my travel buddies still had not received their bags. He mentioned that two of the tour buddies that had arrived early had still not received their bags....unluckily for them, bag-tracking would be an ongoing nightmare throughout the trip.
Some 45 minutes later, the remaining bags arrived, and we exited into the chilly Moroccan morning en route to our hotel in Casablanca. My head hit the pillow shortly after 4am, but I was at least there, and couldn’t wait to get out and explore this mysterious land!
Friday, December 14, 2007
A belated Turkey for Christmas
I've always found one of the best ways of beating the post-holiday blues is to ensure I have another holiday booked....and Turkey has been somewhere I've wanted to go for a long time!
So...this is the next big trip on the list after Morocco...a two-week birthday present to myself :-).
* This picture is courtesy of Explore UK.
So...this is the next big trip on the list after Morocco...a two-week birthday present to myself :-).
* This picture is courtesy of Explore UK.
Show me the Souk!
I'm SO excited! Only a few sleeps to go before I head off on a two-week tour through Morocco.
I've previously spent one day in the Moroccan port town of Tangier, but two weeks of roaming round the imperial cities and out the Sahara desert will be something altogether unique.
I'm travelling once again with the good people at Explore. I liked the length of their tour, and that it covered all the imperial cities as well as the desert. Bring on the souks and the mint tea! The optional night's camping in a Bedouin tent in the Merzouga Sand Sea and the camel ride should be unforgettable.
The travel dossier warns me that it can get rather chilly out in them thar hills....freezing in fact...snowing in fact! Should be interesting.
I look forward to many blogs posts with amazing desert pics, and am most curious about what Christmas Day in Rabat will be like.
Whoohoo...not long to go!
I've previously spent one day in the Moroccan port town of Tangier, but two weeks of roaming round the imperial cities and out the Sahara desert will be something altogether unique.
I'm travelling once again with the good people at Explore. I liked the length of their tour, and that it covered all the imperial cities as well as the desert. Bring on the souks and the mint tea! The optional night's camping in a Bedouin tent in the Merzouga Sand Sea and the camel ride should be unforgettable.
The travel dossier warns me that it can get rather chilly out in them thar hills....freezing in fact...snowing in fact! Should be interesting.
I look forward to many blogs posts with amazing desert pics, and am most curious about what Christmas Day in Rabat will be like.
Whoohoo...not long to go!
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Contiki takes advantage of facebook
I've still got my nose in facebook, which is proving to be way too addictive. Interestingly, I found Contiki in a related group (though listed as sponsored) on the Explore the World group.
Does advertising belong in social networking applications? I reckon yes, if it's relevant. Contiki as a tour company is clearly offering tours that are of relevance to this particular group. so it makes perfect sense for them to be there. From a marketing perspective, they also using the site to create conversations amongst their potential and existing customers, in the very place where those users are spending a lot of time.
There's also a group for Kumuka travellers, called Kumuka Overland, although this doesn't appear to have been set up by the company - it doesn't confirm this one way or the other. Great for Kumuka if their customers are starting such groups.
The rules of marketing are definititely changing. I reckon travel companies like Contiki, Kumuka and Explore are doing a good job of using new forms of media to get to their customers. Will be interesting to see how things evolve in this space.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Explore's travel blog
Ok, so I'm a bit slow on the update, but I'm liking Explore's blog. They seem to be in touch with their customers - highlighting their blogs, and participating in all conversations travel.
The folks there seem to like raising funds for charity, with the blog highlighting some of their employees most recent endeavours.
And I like that they've introduced podcasts. I think it's such a brilliant idea to be able to download travel podcasts and listen to them as you're wandering through the place being discussed.
I'm eagerly awaiting the release of the 2008/2009 Explore brochure so I can ponder the next big adventure....South America!
The folks there seem to like raising funds for charity, with the blog highlighting some of their employees most recent endeavours.
And I like that they've introduced podcasts. I think it's such a brilliant idea to be able to download travel podcasts and listen to them as you're wandering through the place being discussed.
I'm eagerly awaiting the release of the 2008/2009 Explore brochure so I can ponder the next big adventure....South America!
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
New Explore brochure available
Drool. Several emails this week alerted me to the fact that the 2007/2008 Explore brochure is out now and on its way to me in the post. I can't WAIT to browse through its pages.New and interesting tours that instantly caught my attention included the 15-day part-train based journey through Moldova, Crimea & Kiev and the 8-day trip through Austria, Slovenia and Italy. I know pretty much nothing about Moldova, which makes me want to visit the place all the more. And any trip that involves hiking through the Julian Alps would be stunning...I'd say Spring would be a great time to do that tour, when it's not so hot.
My dream tours from the brochure are any of the expedition voyages, which truly do look like "trip of a lifetime" experiences. My dilemma is: one lifetime, so many trips of a lifetime to fit in. Hmm...methinks I need to start saving.
The 34-day Patagonia, Pacific Islands & Panama Canal sounds entirely awesome. I have wanted to see the Chilean glaciers and fjords ever since I saw my first glacier in Norway. The fact that the cruise mosies by Argentina and Peru is an added bonus.
My ultimate dream expedition, which isn't new to the 2007/2008 brochure, but one I've drooled over in previous brochures, is the 24-day Spirit of Shackleton cruise around the Falkland Islands and then down, down, down to the Antarctic Peninsula & South Shetland Islands. My father has often warned me that the seas in that part of the world are horrific, but I think the experience of setting foot on Antarctica truly would be a "once in a lifetime experience" - and one of the things I'd like to do in my lifetime. *sigh*. One day.
Categories: Tours
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
A refreshing approach from Explore
I had an experience last week that personally proved to me that companies who take the time to engage with bloggers can start to truly get to know their customers in a way that database segmentation or direct marketing campaigns could never achieve.
On this blog, I have written about some of the tours I’ve done lately with Explore. My experiences with the company have been entirely positive – the tours I did around Iceland and Croatia with Explore this year were excellent, and I would not hesitate to recommend them to family and friends. Explore tours are well organized, great value for money, FUN, and have a great combination of structured and free time. What really appeals to me is that they get to some really obscure places. I plan to do more Explore tours as time and money allow – and no, they are not paying me to say this!
What impressed me about Paul, the “ECommerce Bod” from Explore who emailed me, was that he offered help in getting me more information if I needed it, offered some information about their affiliate program (which I may or may not pursue, but it wasn’t a hard sell), and shared some personal observations about Lake Bled, Slovenia, where we’d both visited recently. It was clear he knew his stuff. He was authentic – and that’s important.
When I replied, he continued our conversation about the rather scary cable car that scales the cliffs surrounding Lake Bohinj en route to the ski resort that overlooks the entire valley. Talk about great views! He mentioned that the next Explore brochure was coming out soon, and to keep an eye out for more tours. As if I need any encouragement!
I thought it was cool. And relevant and appropriate. It makes me feel like the people at Explore are actually interested in what their customers are saying about their company – good or bad. They talk to me about stuff that interests me, and not in polished corporate speak but with a friendly, conversational tone. The tours themselves are great, but this personal touch, way after the fact, is really refreshing.
He also said he’d keep reading my blog. So, Paul, if you are reading this, thanks for your emails, and I hope you get to do one of the Explore train tours soon.
On this blog, I have written about some of the tours I’ve done lately with Explore. My experiences with the company have been entirely positive – the tours I did around Iceland and Croatia with Explore this year were excellent, and I would not hesitate to recommend them to family and friends. Explore tours are well organized, great value for money, FUN, and have a great combination of structured and free time. What really appeals to me is that they get to some really obscure places. I plan to do more Explore tours as time and money allow – and no, they are not paying me to say this!
What impressed me about Paul, the “ECommerce Bod” from Explore who emailed me, was that he offered help in getting me more information if I needed it, offered some information about their affiliate program (which I may or may not pursue, but it wasn’t a hard sell), and shared some personal observations about Lake Bled, Slovenia, where we’d both visited recently. It was clear he knew his stuff. He was authentic – and that’s important.
When I replied, he continued our conversation about the rather scary cable car that scales the cliffs surrounding Lake Bohinj en route to the ski resort that overlooks the entire valley. Talk about great views! He mentioned that the next Explore brochure was coming out soon, and to keep an eye out for more tours. As if I need any encouragement!
I thought it was cool. And relevant and appropriate. It makes me feel like the people at Explore are actually interested in what their customers are saying about their company – good or bad. They talk to me about stuff that interests me, and not in polished corporate speak but with a friendly, conversational tone. The tours themselves are great, but this personal touch, way after the fact, is really refreshing.
He also said he’d keep reading my blog. So, Paul, if you are reading this, thanks for your emails, and I hope you get to do one of the Explore train tours soon.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
A daytrip to Lokrum
July 23 (Day 3): A couple of the more adventurous tour buddies set off early morning for a bus trip to nearby Montenegro.
After a late night and a couple of shared bottles of Croatian chardy, I decided to join another bunch of more laidback tour buddies, and we headed over to the small nature reserve of Lokrum, a 30-minute ferry trip from Dubrovnik harbour.
The water is so incredibly clear and junk-free, and as the temperatures soared, so did the number of people we could see swimming off the rocks. There were clearly no inhibitions (or acceptable legal limits) about the amount of flesh and lard that could be flashed about...
We decided to go for a bit of trek around the island, and a couple of hours into it, and heading uphill in the extreme heat of the day, wondered what in god's name we were doing!
The walk afforded us though, with great views of the moored cruise ships and a view back over the city. From a distance, it really became clear how important Dubrovnik's fortress-like walls had been in the city's history. We were told that Dubrovnik had never actually fallen in any attack.
Lunch on Lokrum was awesome. We stopped at an open-air restaurant in amongst some old ruins near where we started the walk, and pigged out on ice-cold pivo and seafood risotto under shady trees. The waiter was a huge Croatian bloke who seemed slightly amused (and impressed) at our attempts to speak Croatian.
The rest of the afternoon was a lazy haze of swimming and dozing under trees. Interestingly, we came across a bunch of gum trees in the botanical gardens, and I had a wee sentimental twinge of Oz. It was easy to see why gum trees thrived in the conditions though. It was still as hot as Brisbane in summer!
Later that evening, we headed back into Dubrovnik to see the night lights, and another seafood dinner rolled by. Dubrovnik harbour has a really chilled but lively feel about it at night - the streets are lined with people dining out, and munching yet more icecream.
We kicked on for a bit longer at the local bar back at Lapad, and were later seen singing karoke-style into the night. This will not come as a surprise to anyone who knows me well....
Categories: Croatia, Tours
After a late night and a couple of shared bottles of Croatian chardy, I decided to join another bunch of more laidback tour buddies, and we headed over to the small nature reserve of Lokrum, a 30-minute ferry trip from Dubrovnik harbour.
The water is so incredibly clear and junk-free, and as the temperatures soared, so did the number of people we could see swimming off the rocks. There were clearly no inhibitions (or acceptable legal limits) about the amount of flesh and lard that could be flashed about...
We decided to go for a bit of trek around the island, and a couple of hours into it, and heading uphill in the extreme heat of the day, wondered what in god's name we were doing!
The walk afforded us though, with great views of the moored cruise ships and a view back over the city. From a distance, it really became clear how important Dubrovnik's fortress-like walls had been in the city's history. We were told that Dubrovnik had never actually fallen in any attack.
Lunch on Lokrum was awesome. We stopped at an open-air restaurant in amongst some old ruins near where we started the walk, and pigged out on ice-cold pivo and seafood risotto under shady trees. The waiter was a huge Croatian bloke who seemed slightly amused (and impressed) at our attempts to speak Croatian.
The rest of the afternoon was a lazy haze of swimming and dozing under trees. Interestingly, we came across a bunch of gum trees in the botanical gardens, and I had a wee sentimental twinge of Oz. It was easy to see why gum trees thrived in the conditions though. It was still as hot as Brisbane in summer!
Later that evening, we headed back into Dubrovnik to see the night lights, and another seafood dinner rolled by. Dubrovnik harbour has a really chilled but lively feel about it at night - the streets are lined with people dining out, and munching yet more icecream.
We kicked on for a bit longer at the local bar back at Lapad, and were later seen singing karoke-style into the night. This will not come as a surprise to anyone who knows me well....
Categories: Croatia, Tours
Walking the walls of Dubrovnik
July 22 (Day 2): The warm weather continued, and it was a balmy 25C over breaky on the balcony, with temperatures continuing to head north.
Our brief bus journey took us along a small stretch of the coast, and the Adriatic sea was the most amazing shade of blue – that continued throughout the entire trip. The Dalmation Coast is truly stunning!
Into Dubrovnik on a guided tour, and the huge high walls that have enclosed and protected the city for thousands of years loomed large. Offset by the huge mountains we’d seen in shadow the night before, and the crystal blue waters, it was easy to see how Dubrovnik had been named the “Pearl of the Adriatic”.
More superlatives - George Bernard Shaw once said, “Those who seek paradise on earth should come to see Dubrovnik”. He’s not wrong! One step inside the huge walls, and it was love at first site with a city that has been attacked and re-built many times over.
Our guide showed a map of the Old Town that depicted where the damage took place in the siege of Dubrovnik in 1991. It was hard to believe that this World Heritage site had been bombed to bits quite recently, and eerie to know that we were walking down the very streets that had been under attack. We then walked through the cobbled streets, checking out the oasis-like Franciscan and Dominican Monasteries, the cathedral and the Rector’s Palace.
The waterfront heaved with people - a couple of large cruise ships had deposited thousands of passengers for the day, and ice-cream munching tourists weaved in and out of the streets and atop the city’s walls.
By noon, the sun was a scorching 36C. That became the benchmark for the next week! A bunch of us decided to have lunch in one of the (many) restaurants on the high side of the Old Town, and we got acquainted with the typical Croatian menu of risotto, pasta and salads, and pivo (beer) of course. It was so bloody hot that beer was the only answer. In later days we became rather familiar with Croatian wine, but for lunch, it was always a large pivo! God it was good!
That afternoon, we continued to wander through the maze of streets, observing locals and tourists swimming off the sheer rocks and occupying every square foot of water available. It’s like Australia in that it’s a water–loving country, and you could tell the English or Australian tourists by the shade of pink in their sunburn.
After the first of many awesome Croatian icecreams, most of the tour group reconvened late afternoon to walk the city’s walls – this is a must do in Dubrovnik, and it’s definitely much better done in the early morning or late afternoon to avoid the sun. There’s minimal shade up on the walls, and potential to be burnt to a crisp, but the views are entirely worth it.
We could see many of the 1180-plus islands that flank the coast of Croatia, the nature reserve of Locrum being the closest.
Everywhere, people were diving off the rocks into the sea, and boats floated by, while people lounged around open-air cafes and 13th buildings – there was a distinctly Mediterranean feel to the place, but with an equally distinct and proud Croatian heritage. The Wall Walk was awesome, and gave a really good view of the city.
We headed back out to Lapad for a quiet pivo and a bit of a rest before dinner. Later that night, we walked down the very resort-y feeling promenade at Lapad, into a huge bunch of restaurants that overlooked another pebbly beach. People were still out swimming late, as we scoffed down some great seafood, and had our first taste of Croatian chardy – or whatever the equivalent there is called.
We were truly getting the hang of the Croatian lifestyle, with the biggest decision of the day, being what to do the following day…go island hopping, shopping, hang by the beach or take a day trip to Montenegro, which is one of Europe’s newest countries.
I decided to sleep on such a momentous decision, after yet another icecream…
Categories: Croatia, Tours
Our brief bus journey took us along a small stretch of the coast, and the Adriatic sea was the most amazing shade of blue – that continued throughout the entire trip. The Dalmation Coast is truly stunning!
Into Dubrovnik on a guided tour, and the huge high walls that have enclosed and protected the city for thousands of years loomed large. Offset by the huge mountains we’d seen in shadow the night before, and the crystal blue waters, it was easy to see how Dubrovnik had been named the “Pearl of the Adriatic”.
More superlatives - George Bernard Shaw once said, “Those who seek paradise on earth should come to see Dubrovnik”. He’s not wrong! One step inside the huge walls, and it was love at first site with a city that has been attacked and re-built many times over.
Our guide showed a map of the Old Town that depicted where the damage took place in the siege of Dubrovnik in 1991. It was hard to believe that this World Heritage site had been bombed to bits quite recently, and eerie to know that we were walking down the very streets that had been under attack. We then walked through the cobbled streets, checking out the oasis-like Franciscan and Dominican Monasteries, the cathedral and the Rector’s Palace.
The waterfront heaved with people - a couple of large cruise ships had deposited thousands of passengers for the day, and ice-cream munching tourists weaved in and out of the streets and atop the city’s walls.
By noon, the sun was a scorching 36C. That became the benchmark for the next week! A bunch of us decided to have lunch in one of the (many) restaurants on the high side of the Old Town, and we got acquainted with the typical Croatian menu of risotto, pasta and salads, and pivo (beer) of course. It was so bloody hot that beer was the only answer. In later days we became rather familiar with Croatian wine, but for lunch, it was always a large pivo! God it was good!
That afternoon, we continued to wander through the maze of streets, observing locals and tourists swimming off the sheer rocks and occupying every square foot of water available. It’s like Australia in that it’s a water–loving country, and you could tell the English or Australian tourists by the shade of pink in their sunburn.
After the first of many awesome Croatian icecreams, most of the tour group reconvened late afternoon to walk the city’s walls – this is a must do in Dubrovnik, and it’s definitely much better done in the early morning or late afternoon to avoid the sun. There’s minimal shade up on the walls, and potential to be burnt to a crisp, but the views are entirely worth it.
We could see many of the 1180-plus islands that flank the coast of Croatia, the nature reserve of Locrum being the closest.
Everywhere, people were diving off the rocks into the sea, and boats floated by, while people lounged around open-air cafes and 13th buildings – there was a distinctly Mediterranean feel to the place, but with an equally distinct and proud Croatian heritage. The Wall Walk was awesome, and gave a really good view of the city.
We headed back out to Lapad for a quiet pivo and a bit of a rest before dinner. Later that night, we walked down the very resort-y feeling promenade at Lapad, into a huge bunch of restaurants that overlooked another pebbly beach. People were still out swimming late, as we scoffed down some great seafood, and had our first taste of Croatian chardy – or whatever the equivalent there is called.
We were truly getting the hang of the Croatian lifestyle, with the biggest decision of the day, being what to do the following day…go island hopping, shopping, hang by the beach or take a day trip to Montenegro, which is one of Europe’s newest countries.
I decided to sleep on such a momentous decision, after yet another icecream…
Categories: Croatia, Tours
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Drooling in Dubrovnik
JULY 21 (Day 1 of tour): The 2.5 hour flight from Dubrovnik was painless enough, and as soon as I stepped off the plane, I knew the next week was going to be a tad warm - it was a steamy 30C at 10.30pm! 
Jo, the tour manager, welcomed me and pointed me towards the coach that would become home for the next week. Misha, our ever-smiling Croatian driver met me at the bus, and other tour buddies started to arrive.
The drive into Dubrovnik took us around a winding road, that as we would see the next day, hugged high rocky mountains that plunged into the Adriatic sea below. The lights of Dubrovnik's Old Town soon twinkled below us, and we could just make out the borders of the giant walls that have surrounded and protected this city for thousands of years.
Our short journey for the evening finished at Lapad, a residential area about 10 minutes out of the Old Town. We rolled our bags down a wide pedestrian promenade lined by palm trees and soaked up the balmy atmosphere (and strains of "American Pie" at a local bar), as we came to the charming Hotel Zagreb.
Rooms and room-buddies were allocated quickly, and we spent our first night in Dubrobnik in air-conditioned bliss.
Categories: Croatia, Tours
Jo, the tour manager, welcomed me and pointed me towards the coach that would become home for the next week. Misha, our ever-smiling Croatian driver met me at the bus, and other tour buddies started to arrive.
The drive into Dubrovnik took us around a winding road, that as we would see the next day, hugged high rocky mountains that plunged into the Adriatic sea below. The lights of Dubrovnik's Old Town soon twinkled below us, and we could just make out the borders of the giant walls that have surrounded and protected this city for thousands of years.
Our short journey for the evening finished at Lapad, a residential area about 10 minutes out of the Old Town. We rolled our bags down a wide pedestrian promenade lined by palm trees and soaked up the balmy atmosphere (and strains of "American Pie" at a local bar), as we came to the charming Hotel Zagreb.
Rooms and room-buddies were allocated quickly, and we spent our first night in Dubrobnik in air-conditioned bliss.
Categories: Croatia, Tours
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Roll on Croatia!
2 more sleeps till I fly out to Croatia! I'm doing an 8-day tour with Explore that starts in Dubrovnik, heads up to Split and then high into the hills to the Plitvice Lakes National Park.
We'll then come back down the coast to Petracane, Zadar and Trogir, before heading back to Split.
I'm doing the tour represented by the red line on the map, although I have to say, it was a pretty tough choice between the inland tour and the cruise tour off the Dalmation Coast.
It will be my first visit to Croatia. I've heard that it was hitting temps of 40C last week...pretty warm in anyone's book. I'm really looking forward to exploring the walled city of Dubrovnik, checking out the cellars in the Diocletian's Palace, and pigging out on what is meant to be fantastic seafood!
We'll then come back down the coast to Petracane, Zadar and Trogir, before heading back to Split.
I'm doing the tour represented by the red line on the map, although I have to say, it was a pretty tough choice between the inland tour and the cruise tour off the Dalmation Coast.
It will be my first visit to Croatia. I've heard that it was hitting temps of 40C last week...pretty warm in anyone's book. I'm really looking forward to exploring the walled city of Dubrovnik, checking out the cellars in the Diocletian's Palace, and pigging out on what is meant to be fantastic seafood!
Friday, June 30, 2006
Heading north...to Edinburgh
* The next two posts are about a long weekend in August 2005 to see the Military Tattoo in Edinburgh.
Early on in the year, I found that Contiki ran a 4-day tour up to the Edinburgh Military Tattoo, and as soon as I saw the tour advertised, I knew I wanted to do it. I don't know why I became obsessed with going to the Tattoo - I was never outrageously interested in anything military, nor bagpipe-ish - in fact, when we used to watch the Tattoo on the ABC at home as kids, I thought it was about as interesting as watching paint dry.
Anyway, on the last weekend in August, me and 50 other nutters set off on a four-day Contiki tour (my shortest tour ever), on the very long drive up to Edinburgh. It’s basically straight up the infamous M1 – the main road north from London.
Other than a few stops, and introductions of everyone on the bus, the 10-hour bus ride was as boring as hell. But…at 6.30pm or so, we reached Edinburgh, where it was a balmy 12-13C (quite noice for “summer” weather), and were shown to our accommodation in Pollack Halls – part of the student accommodation arm in the University of Edinburgh, about 15 mins walk out of the city.
Bags stowed, we hit the town, which, in the final weekend of the Edinburgh Fringe festival, was going off. The festival is a month long celebration of everything and seems to be one of the largest combined festivals in the world.
Despite the wet, freezing weather, my first impression of Edinburgh was that it is a beautiful city – quite like anything else I’ve seen in the UK. The buildings are stunning – old and grey/black, with loads of character. Like the Scottish people, the buildings stood tall and proud, as if not taking any crap from anyone.
It was surprising to see girls walking round in the near arctic conditions in micro skirts and ugg boots – seems to be the fashion in the northern parts of this country….speaking of nutters. Perhaps I’m getting prudish in my old age.
Early on in the year, I found that Contiki ran a 4-day tour up to the Edinburgh Military Tattoo, and as soon as I saw the tour advertised, I knew I wanted to do it. I don't know why I became obsessed with going to the Tattoo - I was never outrageously interested in anything military, nor bagpipe-ish - in fact, when we used to watch the Tattoo on the ABC at home as kids, I thought it was about as interesting as watching paint dry.
Anyway, on the last weekend in August, me and 50 other nutters set off on a four-day Contiki tour (my shortest tour ever), on the very long drive up to Edinburgh. It’s basically straight up the infamous M1 – the main road north from London.Other than a few stops, and introductions of everyone on the bus, the 10-hour bus ride was as boring as hell. But…at 6.30pm or so, we reached Edinburgh, where it was a balmy 12-13C (quite noice for “summer” weather), and were shown to our accommodation in Pollack Halls – part of the student accommodation arm in the University of Edinburgh, about 15 mins walk out of the city.
Bags stowed, we hit the town, which, in the final weekend of the Edinburgh Fringe festival, was going off. The festival is a month long celebration of everything and seems to be one of the largest combined festivals in the world.
Despite the wet, freezing weather, my first impression of Edinburgh was that it is a beautiful city – quite like anything else I’ve seen in the UK. The buildings are stunning – old and grey/black, with loads of character. Like the Scottish people, the buildings stood tall and proud, as if not taking any crap from anyone.It was surprising to see girls walking round in the near arctic conditions in micro skirts and ugg boots – seems to be the fashion in the northern parts of this country….speaking of nutters. Perhaps I’m getting prudish in my old age.
A date with 1000 pipers and haggis
Anyway, we partied hard into the wee hours of the morning and fronted up some time later at the food hall for a canteen-style breakfast. Black pudding was on offer, but the prospect of pig’s blood and guts for breakfast didn’t bode well after a night on the razzle. I settled for the far more comforting bacon and eggs.
We spent the morning exploring the historic Edinburgh Castle – a massive old fort perched on top of the highest hill in the city. It afforded great views of Edinburgh, out across the mountains and sea. It was blowing a gale and bloody cold, but very scenic.
I headed down into the Royal Mile, which is the heart of the city’s Old Town. I find when I’m travelling these days, I avoid the hideous High Streets and shopping malls, and seek out the old, quaint parts. The Royal Mile stretches from Edinburgh Castle at the top of the hill, down to Holyrood Palace at the bottom. Holyrood Palace is one of the royal residences in Edinburgh, and while not as flash as Buckingham Palace, it’s not bad for a wee cottage up north.
All sorts of quaint boutiques lined the streets, together with loads of Scottish paraphenlia like kilts, fake bagpipes, tartans and all sorts of warm wooly stuff.
I found fantastic little arts and crafts markets in an old cemetery in the streets below the castle and wandered back up the Royal Mile, checking out the many buskers and street performers that were there as part of the festival.
I recently heard a comedian describing the Edinburgh festival, and how “every corner is home to a bloke with bagpipes in a kilt” – and that was certainly the case. It was a scream!
After a mid-afternoon backbash, the group headed back into town and had a quick dinner and beer before joining the massive queue for the Military Tattoo. Here’s the thing with the Tattoo…it was the final night of the Tattoo, which had been playing for about a month, with two performances each night. They jam about 10,000 people into a purpose-built stadium in the car-park of Edinburgh Castle. Police line the streets, and they close of many of the main access ways into the castle, and pretty much filter people in, while also doing security searches. When the early show finishes, they have to get 10,000 people out, and let another 10,000 people in, which equates to a truck load of people in the narrow cobbled streets around the castle.
I spose it took about an hour to get in, but when we eventually got seated, the atmosphere was electric. By 10.30pm, when the show was due to start, the sky was pitch black and the castle was illuminated with flaming torches. It was even colder and windier than it had been during the day, but at least the rain held off.
The first pipers burst into the stadium and for the next couple of hours I sat mesmerized by what the Scots consider to be a deeply traditional and proud celebration of their military might.
Pipe bands from around the world performed various songs, and when the Scottish band played Scotland the Brave, the crowd went completely nuts. My favourite part of the show was when the entire 1000 or so performers played Mull of Kintyre – one of the best songs ever! And then they played “Sailing”, which again, with the strength of several hundred bagpipes, was awesome.
The grand finale was a haunting rendition of the Last Post, played by a loan piper at the top of the castle. Throughout the show, the wall of the castle had been used as a huge projection screen, and lit various colours – but for the last song, they turned out all the lights, had huge flaming torches on the castle’s main pulpits and focused a spotlight on the piper.
It actually moved me to tears – the whole Last Post thing. It was an extraordinary setting, and having spent the day in Edinburgh, it became very clear that the Scots are intensely strong, proud people. The show concluded with huge fireworks over the castle and the predictable rush and crush to get out, but it was one of the most amazing shows I’ve ever seen – and well worth it if you’re able to get tickets.
We kicked on at one of the many overflowing nightclubs and once again, partied our little hearts out.
The next day, I wandered round some more, before meeting Iain, an old IR colleague, who lives in Edinburgh, for lunch. We hadn’t seen each other for yonks, and it was a great to catch up. Cheers Iain!
The atmosphere in the city was fantastic, and the people-watching opportunities were spectacular. I spent the rest of the day pottering round the streets and checking out the main points of interest.
That evening, there was an option restaurant visit for what, we were promised, was a traditional Scottish meal. I had been debating whether to try haggis (mashed up, cooked offal), and decided that out of respect to the locals, I should give their celebrated delicacy a go. Holding my nose and shutting my eyes, I threw it down the hatch and managed to keep it there. The morsel I had was well cooked, so I couldn’t taste any of the potentially gross stuff…so there you go. I can at least say I tried haggis. Probably not likely to give it another go however…
After the main meal, we were treated to Andy the Piper/Comedian – a solo piper, who cranked up his bagpipes and between tunes, chatted about the history of the pipes and heckled everyone in the room. He was rude, completely un-PC and thoroughly hilarious. His finale was to play the theme song from Star Wars, which was one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever heard.
We kicked on at one of the many overflowing nightclubs and once again, partied our little hearts out. One travel buddy partied so hard he wound up in Edinburgh hospital at 5.00am with a torn ligament. This was of course, the morning we had to drive back to London. With an 8.00am departure, we all (somehow) managed to make it back onto the bus for the long drive home.
Things were predictably quiet for the first few hours, then the natives got restless, talked crap, asked if we were there yet (10 thousand times), pondered the horrors of M1 traffic, talked more crap, and finally, some 10 hours later, pulled into the now familiar Bedford Way at Russell Square – Contiki’s drop off point.
As we said our goodbyes, Scotland the Brave was no doubt ringing loudly in our minds, after one truly awesome long weekend.
We spent the morning exploring the historic Edinburgh Castle – a massive old fort perched on top of the highest hill in the city. It afforded great views of Edinburgh, out across the mountains and sea. It was blowing a gale and bloody cold, but very scenic.I headed down into the Royal Mile, which is the heart of the city’s Old Town. I find when I’m travelling these days, I avoid the hideous High Streets and shopping malls, and seek out the old, quaint parts. The Royal Mile stretches from Edinburgh Castle at the top of the hill, down to Holyrood Palace at the bottom. Holyrood Palace is one of the royal residences in Edinburgh, and while not as flash as Buckingham Palace, it’s not bad for a wee cottage up north.
All sorts of quaint boutiques lined the streets, together with loads of Scottish paraphenlia like kilts, fake bagpipes, tartans and all sorts of warm wooly stuff.
I found fantastic little arts and crafts markets in an old cemetery in the streets below the castle and wandered back up the Royal Mile, checking out the many buskers and street performers that were there as part of the festival.
I recently heard a comedian describing the Edinburgh festival, and how “every corner is home to a bloke with bagpipes in a kilt” – and that was certainly the case. It was a scream!
After a mid-afternoon backbash, the group headed back into town and had a quick dinner and beer before joining the massive queue for the Military Tattoo. Here’s the thing with the Tattoo…it was the final night of the Tattoo, which had been playing for about a month, with two performances each night. They jam about 10,000 people into a purpose-built stadium in the car-park of Edinburgh Castle. Police line the streets, and they close of many of the main access ways into the castle, and pretty much filter people in, while also doing security searches. When the early show finishes, they have to get 10,000 people out, and let another 10,000 people in, which equates to a truck load of people in the narrow cobbled streets around the castle.
I spose it took about an hour to get in, but when we eventually got seated, the atmosphere was electric. By 10.30pm, when the show was due to start, the sky was pitch black and the castle was illuminated with flaming torches. It was even colder and windier than it had been during the day, but at least the rain held off.
The first pipers burst into the stadium and for the next couple of hours I sat mesmerized by what the Scots consider to be a deeply traditional and proud celebration of their military might.
Pipe bands from around the world performed various songs, and when the Scottish band played Scotland the Brave, the crowd went completely nuts. My favourite part of the show was when the entire 1000 or so performers played Mull of Kintyre – one of the best songs ever! And then they played “Sailing”, which again, with the strength of several hundred bagpipes, was awesome.The grand finale was a haunting rendition of the Last Post, played by a loan piper at the top of the castle. Throughout the show, the wall of the castle had been used as a huge projection screen, and lit various colours – but for the last song, they turned out all the lights, had huge flaming torches on the castle’s main pulpits and focused a spotlight on the piper.
It actually moved me to tears – the whole Last Post thing. It was an extraordinary setting, and having spent the day in Edinburgh, it became very clear that the Scots are intensely strong, proud people. The show concluded with huge fireworks over the castle and the predictable rush and crush to get out, but it was one of the most amazing shows I’ve ever seen – and well worth it if you’re able to get tickets.
We kicked on at one of the many overflowing nightclubs and once again, partied our little hearts out.
The next day, I wandered round some more, before meeting Iain, an old IR colleague, who lives in Edinburgh, for lunch. We hadn’t seen each other for yonks, and it was a great to catch up. Cheers Iain!
The atmosphere in the city was fantastic, and the people-watching opportunities were spectacular. I spent the rest of the day pottering round the streets and checking out the main points of interest.
That evening, there was an option restaurant visit for what, we were promised, was a traditional Scottish meal. I had been debating whether to try haggis (mashed up, cooked offal), and decided that out of respect to the locals, I should give their celebrated delicacy a go. Holding my nose and shutting my eyes, I threw it down the hatch and managed to keep it there. The morsel I had was well cooked, so I couldn’t taste any of the potentially gross stuff…so there you go. I can at least say I tried haggis. Probably not likely to give it another go however…
After the main meal, we were treated to Andy the Piper/Comedian – a solo piper, who cranked up his bagpipes and between tunes, chatted about the history of the pipes and heckled everyone in the room. He was rude, completely un-PC and thoroughly hilarious. His finale was to play the theme song from Star Wars, which was one of the most bizarre things I’ve ever heard.
We kicked on at one of the many overflowing nightclubs and once again, partied our little hearts out. One travel buddy partied so hard he wound up in Edinburgh hospital at 5.00am with a torn ligament. This was of course, the morning we had to drive back to London. With an 8.00am departure, we all (somehow) managed to make it back onto the bus for the long drive home.
Things were predictably quiet for the first few hours, then the natives got restless, talked crap, asked if we were there yet (10 thousand times), pondered the horrors of M1 traffic, talked more crap, and finally, some 10 hours later, pulled into the now familiar Bedford Way at Russell Square – Contiki’s drop off point.
As we said our goodbyes, Scotland the Brave was no doubt ringing loudly in our minds, after one truly awesome long weekend.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
WIWT: Ice Caves on Fox Glacier, New Zealand
Fox Glacier's ice caves provided a stunning playground one winter's afternoon in July 2004. Flying up to the glacier by helicopter, we spent several hours hiking over the ice. Click here for details about New Zealand's glacier flights.
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