On The Road

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On The Road – A Month in London

On September 1st, 2018 I moved into my cute flat in Covent Garden – oh to own a flat in this amazing location. I step out of doors into a vibrant cosmopolitan part of central London. I can walk to Trafalgar Square in ten minutes. I am in the yellow section of the English Monopoly board. The flat is lovely – larger than I expected and well appointed. It is ironical but we both think we got the better deal.

I was settled in by 2:00. It was a gorgeous late Summer day in London and I immediately took off for a walk through the three Royal parks – St James, Green and Hyde Park. This took me to Trafalgar Square, on to the Mall, past Buckingham Palace and numerous monuments and memorials. I returned via Kensington palace, past 10 Downing Street and to Parliament to find Big Ben silent and wrapped in scaffolding for repairs. I walked along the Thames to Victoria Embankment then spotted a short cut to Covent Garden past the Savoy Hotel. I was in bliss.

Day 2 I was meeting a friend for lunch at Sloan Square and I walked the 15 minutes through Trafalgar Square, down the Mall and around Buckingham Palace and onto Eaton Square which for some reason reminds me of Downton Abbey. We had a lovely lunch in Chelsea and then I walked across the Thames and through Battersea Park to the new power station development which is most impressive. Along the way I encountered a Peace Pagoda which was somewhat of a surprise but quite lovely. Unfortunately the walk on the south side is not complete and I had to cross back and walk on the north side of the Thames.

Day 3 took me to the National Gallery, a free concert at Saint Martin’s on the fields then I met my brother Paul for lunch at the National Theater. It was great to see him and plan our time together in London. Then I walked along the south side of the Thames on the Jubilee walk which took me to the Tate Modern Gallery where I spent an hour but was a little disappointed the Mark Rothko paintings were not on display. Finally a walk cross the river to Saint Pauls Cathedral where I stayed for evensong or at least half of it. I always leave when the words start.

Day 4 I actually rode the underground to Greenwich. My first stop was a tour of the Cutty Sark, the famous clipper that had the speed record for bringing tea from China to England in the mid 1800s. Then I walked to the observatory where the museum explains everything I have a wanted to know about longtitude and how sailors of old never really knew exactly where they were. The motivation to solve this became acute when four ships of the British Navy ran aground on reef near the Scilly Isles and 1600 sailors drowned. I took the river boat back on the Thames an enjoyable if more expensive way to travel. In the evening I went to the theatre to see The Kings Exit, a play by Ionesco on Death. It was absorbing and a great deal for the £15 ticket.

Day 5 was one of those magical days full or surprises. I set out to go to the British and V & A museums.I decided to walk to the V & A first (Victoria and Albert) and found my self wandering along Piccadilly Street when I saw a market in the courtyard of St James Church I popped inside and found a street quartet practicing I asked what they were playing (Beethovens Opus 131) then found they were doing a free recital in 50 minutes. I changed my plan and explored the rest of Piccadilly, went on to Park Lane then down Curzon Street. On my way back to the church I ducked into a small lane and found myself in an area you would not have anticipated, cute stores, pubs and restaurants completely hidden from the main drags. It was called Shepherd market and was developed in the 1700s in Mayfair. (Named after the May fair that used to be held each year.) Apparently it was where the eighteenth century lotharios would procure ladies of the night. I got back to the church in time for the recital which was beautiful and this piece was apparently written at the end of Beethoven’s life when he was entirely deaf. As I left the church I found myself in a beautiful garden containing some lovely sculptures.

Then it was on through Green Park into Kensington and the V and A museum which was a great surprise both from the quality of its food in the cafe and the upgrading of the museum since I was there as a school boy and all I recall is being bored to death by dolls houses of the Victorian era. There is a full size copy of the David which I originally had seen in Florence. It was almost as impressive as the original. It was a long walk home but it was a gorgeous day and I love the scenery overground rather than on the tube.

Day 6 Every day starts at the Stanford Coffee bar where my frequency over four days encouraged the vivacious Emma to give me a “local’s card” so my coffee is 20% off. After coffee I walked to the Tate Modern where there was an Exhibition of Picasso 1932 – all the paintings he did in 1932. An astonishing collection – it was a special exhibition so not free – £20 but worth it. From there I walked to Southwark cathedral one of my favourite and the oldest in London. From there I walked the road less travelled heading into the old dock area past Tower Bridge that is now converted flats. I passed the dock where the original Mayflower set sail and the pub the captain used to sup his ale. Finally I took a ferry across to Canary Wharf originally developed by the Canadian Reichman brothers who despite having to declare bankruptcy due the original failure of this project still own a large share in what is now one of London’s most flourish business areas. The name of one of the primary hubs is Canada One.

An amazing mosaic unearthed in Cirencester

Day 7 did not quite work out as I planned. I thought I would take a day out in the Cotswolds, a picturesque area of cute villages and rolling hills about an hour by high speed train from London. Unfortunately due to some faulty geography on my part and a complete absence of bus service for most of the day, my Cotswold discoverer pass was almost useless. The town I stopped in Kemble had no trains or buses to the area I wanted to visit so in the end I spent a pleasant but truncated day in Cirencester. The highlights were an amazing museum of Roman remains, an Roman amphitheater that was now a flat grassy area surrounded by a series of grassy knolls. The Coliseum it was not. Finally the Norman church next to Cirencester Abbey that due to Henry VIII’s penchant for destruction was represented only by a series of paving stones marking the original foundations as well as a model in the church. My plan departure was accelerated due to a 2/1/2 hour gap in the evening bus service.

Day 9 which is today Sunday 9th I followed a guidebook I found in the flat – Londons Hidden Walks and took a guided tour of the east end of London. It took me through a series of well know markets: Spitalfields, Brick Lane and Petticoat Lane. It is a vibrant area and Sunday attracts people all over London. The population of this area has become 35% Bangladeshi so mosques have taken over where Synagogues used to be. The east of the city has always been the poorer cousin of the more wealthy centre and west sides. (The main street Whitechapel is at the cheap end of the English Monopoly board) It has been a home of immigrants since development began with the Huguenots who came over from France in the 1700s. Its more ominous claim to fame is that Jack the Ripper stalked these streets back in the late eighteen hundreds. On my walk home I arrived at St Pauls at about 4:45 – I thought it may be time for evensong but found instead an organ recital that gave me a chance to rest my weary feet for half an hour and listen to the glorious resonance of the music bouncing off the great dome.

Well London is now officially my favourite city in the whole world. And I still have three more weeks here. tomorrow my brother Paul and I go to watch the fourth day of a cricket game with England playing India. You really have to be English to appreciate that!

You have to be English!

View from Greenwich Observatory – Olympic Stadium to right

A full size David in the V & A museum. Donated by the Duke of Tuscany

London Reflections Fall 2025

My reflections on my favourite city

I love London. I love the cosmopolitan crowds, the busy—sometimes frantic—but endlessly interesting streets, and the peculiar way I can feel completely lost yet always find my way. The theatres. The free galleries and museums. The spectacular Christmas lights. The churches and cathedrals. The sense of history all around you. The unexpected surprises around every corner.

But there is one thing I truly hate: cyclists.

The Dark Side of Two Wheels

I’ve encountered my share of obnoxious cyclists in Vancouver, but in London they all seem cut from the same cloth. Traffic rules appear to be optional. They ride on the wrong side of the road, weave lanes without warning, barrel up one-way streets in the wrong direction, and take to the pavements whenever it suits them.

Stop signs, red lights, zebra crossings—mere suggestions. Pedestrians? Obstacles to be negotiated rather than people with right of way. I’ve learned to be ultra-cautious. My greatest fear here isn’t pickpockets or getting lost—it’s being taken out by a bike.

The Theatres

Being able to go to the theatre as often as I wish, and to choose from such a dazzling range of productions, is one of the great attractions that draws me back to London year after year.

So far, with a week still to go, I’ve seen: The Importance of Being Earnest, The Producers, All My Sons (Arthur Miller), The Devil Wears Prada, Moulin Rouge, Just For One Day (the Live Aid story), Woman in Mind (very bizarre, but only £12), Titanique (a big mistake), Witness for the Prosecution, A Christmas Carol, and High Noon. Then last night Hadestown, a musical based on confusing two different Greek myths to the seeming delight of the enthusiastic audience.

And that’s still less than ten percent of what’s on.

Just Wandering (and Spending)

I love London’s streets. They may not be paved with gold—in fact, quite the opposite, as my gold will be significantly diminished once the credit card bills catch up.

Apart from wine, which is slightly cheaper in the grocery store (yet twice as expensive in the Theatre – one night I spent twice as much as wine as my ticket and I only had two glasses) London feels about twice as expensive as Vancouver, made worse by the Canadian dollar hovering at what seems like an all-time low.

I’ve chosen to stay near Russell Square, which puts me within walking distance of almost everywhere. The West End is a 25-minute walk; getting home by tube takes about ten. Often, I don’t know where I’m going when I leave—I simply turn down whichever street catches my eye. Suddenly there’s the Old Curiosity Shop, or Somerset House, where a skating rink has been set up. Watching the talents of the average British ice skater is endlessly entertaining.

Then there’s the Thames. The South Bank is my favourite stretch: Tate Modern, the Globe, Southwark Cathedral to the east, and across the river the skyline of the City—St Paul’s, Parliament, and Big Ben.

The Galleries and Museums

I could happily visit a gallery or museum every day. This trip has included Tate Modern, Tate Britain, the National Gallery, the Portrait Gallery, the Wallace Collection, and Sir John Soane’s Museum—bizarre, eclectic, and utterly fascinating. Soane built the house around his collection and left it to the state on the condition that nothing be changed and they are all free! Perfect for someone whose attention span is relatively short!

A famous painting of Cupid by Caravaggio in the Wallace

The Parks and Squares

Then there are the parks and squares. It starts with the Royal Parks—St James’s, Green Park, Hyde Park, and Regent’s Park—and continues with the extraordinary network of squares dotted throughout the city. Russell Square near where I stay, Bloomsbury Square just up the road, Queen’s Square around the corner and Tavistock a block away. Some are private, some reserved for residents, but many are public. There are around 600 in total in London. All with their own history and a welcome place for a rest or for lunch.

The Churches and Cathedrals

There are so many wonderful churches and cathedrals in London. The major ones St. Paul’s and Westminster require payment unless you go to evensong which itself is a delightful experience. Each year I discover a new delight. This year it was St. Brides, known as the journalist’s church because it’s on Fleet Street. This year I attended in error an Advent service, I had a wonderful surprise because it celebrated the reopening of the church after the great fire of London exactly 350 years earlier the priest delivered exactly the same sermon that was delivered on that day – honouring the special guests including Sir Christopher Wren who has designed the church and Samuel Pepys who was in attendance – only in London! (Ironically the cost to rebuild was £11,000, today they’re doing repairs and renovations which will cost £1.4 million the equivalent to £11,000 in 1675.)

A Fun London Encounter

Walking through Somerset House towards Waterloo Bridge, my path was briefly blocked by a small group gathered around someone having their photograph taken. He looked vaguely familiar, so I asked the young woman standing in front of me whether he was someone I should recognize.

She burst into peals of laughter and shared my question with two others, who joined in. Feeling slightly bemused, I then heard one of them call out, “Hey Tom—this fellow wants your autograph!”

The man immediately came over, asking where the necessary materials were for signing. I explained that I’d only been wondering whether I should recognize him, and that the autograph story had been invented at my expense. He looked mildly chagrined, muttered, “Thanks, guys,” and walked back to his spot..

I carried on, intrigued. His behaviour had been unmistakably that of someone who was somebody.

Halfway across Waterloo Bridge, I pulled out my phone, typed in “Tom,” and the penny dropped. It had been Tom Hiddleston—star of The Night Manager and several Marvel films.

London, as ever, delivers its surprises when you least expect them.

On The Road – UK Fall 2025

I arrived in London on Saturday, October 29th, after a slightly anxious beginning. Vancouver lay under a red rain alert, baggage was delayed, and we pushed back from the gate forty minutes late. My connection time in Calgary shrank to twenty minutes. Yet, midway through the flight, my watch buzzed with unexpected grace: the London plane would be held. Thirteen of us were making the same connection. In the end, the hop to Calgary was quick, and the transfer—once a looming cliff-edge—became effortless.

At Heathrow I passed through the passport gates in five minutes and boarded the Piccadilly line. By 2 p.m. I had checked into my modest but comfortable hotel and, despite almost no sleep, set out toward Trafalgar Square between showers. I wandered the National Gallery—grateful that last year’s oppressive airport-style security had vanished. A £4.80 flat white delivered my first reminder that this trip would not be inexpensive, but the paintings offered their own kind of wealth. I stayed awake until ten and slept nearly ten hours.

The next day was for reconnecting. Coffee and lunch with my brother at the British Library—good to see him after a year. The Treasures Room, partly under maintenance, still whispered its wonders: illuminated sacred texts, Leonardo’s hand, Jane Austen’s neat script, and the restless creativity of the Beatles. Later I met my friend Jan at the Royal Academy, and afterwards wandered home through the familiar Monopoly squares—Piccadilly, The Strand, Covent Garden. My sleep that night was lighter, but the shift in time felt surprisingly gentle.

On my third day I attempted too much. I walked to Southwark Cathedral, crossing Blackfriars Bridge and passing the Globe, the Tate Modern, the fragments of the Bishop of Winchester’s palace, and the Golden Hind. I sat listening to the richness of the organ before heading to Borough Market through a heavy shower. The market heaved with people sheltering from the rain; my newly waterproofed jacket, it turned out, had not yet learned its role. A worrying omen for two weeks of Welsh weather.

Will Shakespeare Memorial in Southwark Cathedral

The clouds parted on my return walk. I paused briefly at the Tate, then at the National Theatre, before recrossing Waterloo Bridge for a rest. That evening I went to Carmen at the English National Opera—£15 for the ticket, nearly as much for the wine. Sung in English, though it might as well have been French. No matter: the music carried me. I was home by 10:15 and slept well. A wonderful beginning and worth the fatigue!

Chester

On Saturday I took the train from Euston to Chester—160 miles in two smooth hours—and walked half an hour to my Airbnb. A spacious room awaited.

Chester’s Roman wall, begun in 275, encircles the city like a vast stone memory. Walking it felt astonishing—history underfoot, with views of the cathedral, racecourse, and the River Dee. Rain arrived, then sunshine, and finally a full rainbow arched above the city as if to bless the journey.

After completing the circuit, I explored the historic centre, bought a new rain jacket (£44), and ate dinner beside the river.

The next day dawned miraculously clear. I visited the partially excavated Roman amphitheatre—once seating 7,000—then Chester Cathedral, a great weaving of Norman, Gothic, and monastic eras somehow spared Cromwell’s fury. A walk along the Dee took me briefly into Wales on part of the 870-mile Wales Coast Path. A cream tea, the Roman Gardens, and stories of Cromwell’s bombardment filled the afternoon.

A spontaneous half-hour river cruise completed the day. The commentary noted that the Grosvenor family still owns 11,500 acres here—and much of Mayfair. Land held because a conqueror granted it a millennium ago. It struck me as strange, one of the reasons I once left this country. The next morning I walked a pleasant route to the station ironically through Grosvenor Park and boarded the train for Bangor, Wales.

Criccieth & Pwllheli

I reached Bangor intending to visit the cathedral but, staring at the gloom, decided to continue to Criccieth. I caught the 12:34 bus by a whisker and arrived in a scene of sideways rain and howling wind.

After unpacking, I went out in full rain gear. The soaking I felt was not rain but sea spray flung high by the breakers. For two hours I wandered the village, the tiny station, and the lonely, closed castle.

The next day promised more rain. After a full Welsh breakfast I walked while the weather cooperated, then took the train to Pwllheli. I had once planned to stay there because of Bill Nighy’s Most Scenic Railway Journeys, but research had persuaded me otherwise—and wisely. Pwllheli felt bleak; the café I sought was shut; I fled back on the very train I came in on. £3.20 well spent. Returning to Criccieth, I was revived by the café staff greeting me as “my lovely.”

My final morning began calmly until Trainline announced: trip cancelled. Flooding had closed the line. No guidance. I checked Transport for Wales—vague talk of replacement buses. Eventually I went to the station and found a sign about Lloyd’s buses—but at a stop an hour’s train ride away.

ChatGPT found a local Facebook post mentioning a stop opposite the library. I headed there. While asking a local woman if I was in the right place,, a coach rounded the corner like a benign apparition. I was the sole passenger. The driver wasn’t sure where he would end up but ultimately delivered me 44 miles to Machynlleth. From there it was only 71 minutes to Shrewsbury, and I reached my destination exactly on schedule.

The Bridge Not Crossed – the train crossed here to explore the scenic coast, sadly not for me.

Shrewsbury

Two hours later I arrived at my inn, instantly discouraged: bathroom across the hall, weak Wi-Fi, cluttered room, live music in the bar below. I needed an attitude adjustment. Once I stepped outside, Shrewsbury cast its charm.

The medieval town is a living history book. I wandered Butcher Lane, Fish Lane, the infamously named Grope Lane; visited St Alkmund’s, St Julian’s, and the magnificent St Mary’s with its medieval glass; saw the remains of Shrewsbury Castle and the abbey—partially spared after the Dissolution. Richard II once held parliament here in an attempt to secure his throne. It did not work; Bolingbroke soon returned.

I ended in the sweeping Quarry Park beside the Severn, though some paths were closed by flooding. An Italian dinner completed the day.

Hereford & Monmouth

This stop wasn’t planned. I realised how close I would be to Jane and Hubert Messing, with whom I had once house-swapped. On a whim I contacted Jane; she instantly invited me.

After a short train ride to Hereford, they collected me for a cosy pub lunch beneath pouring rain. Later they dropped me at a small wood for a walk—one must get one’s steps in—then welcomed me into their home, Hunters Post.

The next morning sunlight poured across the landscape, and the views were breathtaking. Before I headed to Abergavenny, we visited their new house in Monmouth, giving me time to explore the ancient town where Henry V was born. I wandered the medieval gate by the calm Monnow River, the church, and the castle ruins. It was idyllic—astonishing to think the street I stood on would be under four feet of water within days.

Cardiff

The 40-minute train to Cardiff was effortless. I walked to the Bay in fine weather, had coffee, visited the Senedd, and took the riverboat back to the centre. An afternoon wander through Bute Park yielded grand views of the castle. The museum had closed, so I planned a return the next day—forecast to be very wet.

And wet it was. I spent the morning in the superb art gallery of the National Museum, especially the remarkable Davies sisters’ collection—Monet, Pissarro, Van Gogh, Degas, Renoir, Turner. It was one of the main draws of this whole journey, and it exceeded expectations.

Next came the castle: the wartime tunnels in the walls where they simulated an air raid (terrifying – up to 20,000 people sheltered here), the extravagant 19th-century interiors fashioned by the immensely wealthy Marquesses of Bute, and the Norman keep. The Butes inherited their Cardiff lands through an 18th-century marriage and became unimaginably wealthy from the coal beneath. They gifted the castle to the city in 1947 to offset death duties. Curiously, the present marquess is now a chef in a Korean-fusion restaurant in London.

I intended a walk to the cathedral, but the rain grew biblical. Even my umbrella surrendered. I retreated to my hotel.

Mumbles

The next morning I took the train to Mumbles near Swansea and a bus to my first class Airbnb. I walked along Langland Bay that afternoon—dramatic waves, fierce wind, another rainbow. The coastline recalled North Devon in wild weather.

The following day, to my surprise, stayed mostly dry, and I walked in both directions along the coast, pausing for coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon. Despite the season, the cafés remained open, offering glorious views of the restless sea.

My journey back to Barnstaple involved some travel anxiety, three trains, one cancelled by a fallen tree, but a slightly unnerving detour still got me in on time, where my smiling sister stood waiting.

PS:

Only in Devon did I realize how charmed my path had been. As I travelled south, the storms intensified. The route I had just taken from Shrewsbury to Cardiff was soon closed by Storm Claudia. The street I had walked in Monmouth lay beneath four feet of floodwater. And the railway from Exeter to Barnstaple shut down an hour after I arrived.

Touring The “Rock” – Newfoundland in 6 Days

Day 1 At 8 o’clock on Friday the 16th, we gathered in the small boardroom of the Holiday Inn for a familiarization meeting. It was an interesting occasion meeting the seven people with whom I would be spending the next six day. The curiosity about whether we will get on, will there be a “trickster” in our midst? After introducing ourselves to each other, Simon the guide gave us some overall details about the six days we will be together and some specific details about the day ahead. We left the hotel on a bright sunny morning in a brand new Ford van heading to Gros Morne National Park.

The Magnificent Seven – Pat, Marie, Liesl, Zoe, Me, Amy, Tony

There were seven of us altogether, six from Canada and one from the UK. (Interesting trivia it costs $200 less from London and takes only an hour longer than from Vancouver!) Two from Ottawa, two from Barrie and one from Edmonton – Zoe almost 60 years younger than me. I was significantly older than everyone else in the group. I wonder if people worried I would not be able to keep up.

Our first stop in Gros Morne National Park, was the Discovery Centre, which coincidentally had the rarest of things – an espresso machine! I told the barista how to make a flat white and it was pretty good. The park had only officially opened on the Monday. It was a lovely modern building. Gros Morne, named after the imposing mountain in its centre, is one of Newfoundland two national parks. The scenery is spectacular and it was a great place to spend two days in.

Then we moved on to the Tablelands. This is a unique phenomenon – geologically because about 500 million years ago, two tectonic plates, collided, and by the unusual process of obduction, part of the mantle was forced to the surface. Usually tectonic plates rest on the mantle, but on this occasion, the mantle was forced up to become the surface of the earth. We walked a 2 1/2 mile trail to a viewpoint and back. It was strange to reflect that we were walking on something that is normally buried deep under the crust and is at 1200C to 1500°C. This rock is now called peridotite which is very high in minerals, low in nutrients and toxic to most plant life.

I took a detour called Serpentine trail. The name derived from a pattern in the rocks that was created when water managed to penetrate them. It was a great start to our trip except somehow I managed to lose my sunglasses.

After this excursion, we drove to Woody Point, a small coastal town for lunch encountering wonderful views of Gros Morne, the mountain the dominates the park. It is not actually that high, (at 2644 feet) but it looks very impressive and is still snow capped.( I realized that the mountains outside my window at home are over 4000 feet high). Lunch was mediocre to say the least, the menu, very pedantic and mostly deep-fried. Not an impressive culinary start.

In the afternoon, we drove through the park retracing our steps around the south arm heading for Rocky Harbour where we were staying. Once we turned onto the north arm the views were spectacular of both the Tablelands and Gros Morne.

Finally we arrived and checked in at these incredibly cute cabins on the waterfront. Dinner was in a “downtown” restaurant. The menu was much better and I enjoyed a fresh lobster dinner. The season just opened two weeks ago and only lasts for eight weeks in this area. It was a real treat, accompanied by a couple of glasses of less than inspiring Sauvignon Blanc.

Day 2

We set off at about 10:15 to drive north from Rocky Harbour along the coast to Westbrook Pond parking area. Newfoundlanders refer to almost all enclosed stretches of water as ponds. This pond is over 18km long and was originally a fjord created by glaciation. After the ice retreated, the land began to rise and the fjord lost its connection to the ocean so now it is a landlocked lake with very pure water. It is a 40 minute walk to the lake along an easy trail with spectacular mountain views ahead. We were going to take a tour boat on the lake for a two hour cruise. We got there early and lined up so we could have decent seats on the upper deck.

The cruise was spectacular, we had the wind behind us on the way out and in the bright sun it was very pleasant. Some of my tour mates had failed to put on sunscreen and suffered the consequences. It had some beautiful waterfalls, some interesting commentary but the way back seemed long and much colder.

I went to the lower deck for shelter and met a lovely woman from Blue Mountain in Ontario where I had learned to ski. She was very impressed with my life at eighty and introduced me to a term “health-span” describing the span of one’s health. She somewhat insightfully observed that I wanted my healthspan and my lifespan to be the same.

After the 40 minute walk back to the parking lot, we headed back towards Rocky Harbour stopping on the way at two interesting attractions. The first was Green Point, a geological phenomenon, where the cliffs offer you an amazing spectrum of the geology of the area 500 million years ago when a series of sediments were laid down on the ocean bottom. Due to plate tectonics the sediment was lifted vertically, and as you walk along at the base of the cliffs, you see written in the stone millions of years of time. It also provides an area where geologist can distinguish from fossils that defined the boundary between the Cambrian and Ordovician ages. Then we had a tour of the lighthouse at Lobster Point named because of the great lobster fishing in the area. Dinner that night was fairly uninspiring fish cakes with copious chips.

Each stratum represents a few million years

Day 3 we had a big driving day to get to Twillingate where we were going to take a cruise to see icebergs. Twillingate is a small spread out village wrapped around the ocean with a tourist season lasting about 10 weeks while the icebergs are around. Last year, they did not turn up at all but this year apparently we would find some. When we got there they had oversold the boat and told us that we would not get on till 430, this was frustrating but our guide Simon filled in the time well by taking us to various vistas in the area including Crowe Point, French Beach and Long Point Lighthouse with its spectacular views of the rocks and ocean below. The cruise boat was running late but eventually at 10 to 5 we took off. It was a long haul to the ice flows, about an hour and a half, but was well worth it. We saw four spectacular examples. The captain was great, taking us very close to them, going around them both clockwise and anticlockwise.

It was an amazing moment. There is something very dramatic about these great ice monuments that had calved from Greenland glaciers over a year ago when they were about four times their current size then drifted on the currents until they got stuck on the sea bed close to Twillingate. However, by the fourth one I had enough and felt the whole trip took far too long and most of us became almost hypothermic because there was no heating on the boat at all.

Was a huge relief to get to shore at about 815 and Simon had arranged an amazing dinner at the Pier 39 restaurant where I enjoyed lobster bisque, a lobster croissant, and two glasses of delicious wine. It wasn’t cheap but well worth it.

Day 4 we only spent one night in Twillingate so it was back in the van the next day heading toward Trinity Village. Simon took us on a detour to see an iceberg that was marooned close to shore. It must have been a magnificent site to wake up to every morning, and I realized I could’ve walked to it in 20 minutes from our accommodation.

Next we stopped at the Beothuk visitor centre about half an hour outside Twillingate; it was fascinating, but I felt exceedingly sad as it concerned, the indigenous Newfoundland Indians, who became extinct in1829. It was basically an act of genocide caused by European diseases, conflict, and pushing the Indians out of their coastal settlements. (It was almost impossible to survive in the interior of Newfoundland.) There is a spiritual garden that is in many ways a memorial. The Beothuk were the original “red” Indians as they covered every part of their bodies in ochre.

Memorial for the Most Compassionate City

We drove on to Gander where we saw the memorial celebrating Gander as the most compassionate city and featuring a piece of metal from one of the world trade centres provided in gratitude by the New York Fire Department. Zoe had not been born when the tragedy occurred. I believe most of us had seen Come from Away, the amazing musical about this event when 6000 people descended on Gander from the 38 flights which were diverted. The total population at the time was only 9651. On the way out, we stopped at the Gander Airport Museum; it was interesting as Gander has had more than its fair share of unexpected drop-ins including Fidel Castro, Frank Sinatra, Mohammed Ali, much British Royalty and Russell Crowe who commented that the airport had better coffee than Tim Hortons. Not a very high bar in my opinion however, Tim Hortons is Canada‘s favourite coffee by far.

Next, we made the 2 Hour drive to Trinity where we had a guide arranged for 4 PM. Tour. Trinity was a lovely surprise, a restored traditional village on the coast of Newfoundland. It was very quaint and our guide Kevin Toop provided an excellent commentary on the development of these towns from the 1700s on, originally as seasonal fishing locations and then finally year round. The stories of deprivation, brutality and lawlessness were fascinating and gave a glimpse into a life fortunately, none of us had ever experienced. There were some nice walks around Trinity, a couple of good restaurants and place that made decent coffee a rarity in Newfoundland so far.

Day 5 we spent two nights in Trinity. Our second day we got an a true Rock experience of fog, wind, and cold with dramatic views of the rugged coastline. We began at an out-of-the-way, traditional, fishing village, then moved onto Elliston, famous for its colony of Atlantic puffins. They had just arrived back from the many places they migrate to and have started nesting. Most of them are on an island that is inaccessible to us, but we had a good view of them however one had decided to nest in the area beside the hiking trail so we got an excellent close-up. They really were a highlight of the trip.

Next, we drove on to Bonavista lighthouse. The lighthouse caretaker was kind enough to let us have our picnic lunch in the visitor centre there. It was a relief to be out of the cold and wind. Then we did a tour of the lighthouse itself. The current lighthouse is a disembodied light on top of a metal pole with no romance attached to it. The old one however, is a delightful recreation of the original paraffin fire lighthouse. The guide showed us how the rotation of the light was caused by a pulley with a weight on the end of it with a two hour cycle so the lighthouse keeper was responsible for pulling the weight up every two hours for the whole night. The paraffin lights had been reinstalled thanks to the lighthouse keeper when the conversion to electricity was made storing the old ones rather than disposing of them like everyone else. So it was a fascinating look back at the history and tradition of this area.

Day 6 our final day together and we had to make the long drive to St. John’s, which would take us over three hours. We left at 9 o’clock and we were on the outskirts of St. John’s by just after midday. We decided to go directly to Cape Speare which features the most Easterly spot in Canada. By the time we got there, some of us were looking forward to the washrooms however, obviously the guardians of this piece of our national heritage had not got the email that the tourism season had started and everything was closed up.

We did a circular walk in a stiff wind and 3c but it was worth it. They used to be a fort here during the second world of war as German submarines attacked Newfoundland on a number of occasions and sank a number of ships. The first soldiers had lived in tents – which seemed hard to imagine.

We returned to the van and headed to the hotel. We could check in early and took a break until three in the afternoon. The Ault Hotel is lovely and I was glad I had booked a couple of extra nights to relax after the tour. We finished the day touring around St. John’s, going to the top of Signal Hill, where the first Marconi radio transmission was made to Cornwall in England; it has spectacular views of St. John’s and of the ocean.

Our final activity was a group dinner and then the Screech Ceremony. For those of you who have not become honorary Newfoundlanders, it has four aspects to it:

You must eat something from Newfoundland.

You must say something like a Newfoundlander.

You must kiss something from Newfoundland.

You must down a shot of screech rum.

We had a very genial and amusing host. We got a piece of spam to eat, we did our best to say. “Deed I is, me ol’ cock! And long may yer big jib draw!” Basically “indeed I am your old friend, may the wind be always behind your sails” Then we downed the screech which is in fact Jamaican rum. Traditionally the Newfoundland is exchanged salt cod for Jamaican Rum. And we all got our certificates! A great way to end our trip.

Some final reflections we were incredibly fortunate with the weather in the National Park when it was most important we had sunshine and more benign temperatures. On the East Coast, we got to experience the more dramatic, but it gave us a great contrast. We drove a long way over 1200 km and much of the inland scenery is basically scrubby spruce fir, which is the national tree.

Once you explore the East Coast, it is more what I had imagined about Newfoundland, cast expenses of dark rock, violent ocean,steep cliffs and unique headlands. I really enjoyed the group experience, fun to have company and we all got on very well. I set up front most of the way because no one else wanted to and I developed a lovely relationship with Simon the guide. We had much in common despite the fact he was half my age, but he was very spiritually and psychologically aware which led us some very interesting conversations. He was also a knowledgeable and caring guide, adding to our experience whenever he could. I am so glad that I made the decision to do this. It exceeded my expectations significantly. The tour itself is full of enriching experiences, but there is also time and space which I find very important. The accommodations were varied, but all good, the dining experiences have been less consistent, and there were not many meals that I have been impressed with. Maybe that was my choices. I have another day here and then on Halifax. This part of my adventure is now complete.

Jelly Bean Row – many brightly coloured houses in St. John’s

Newfoundland – part 1 Deer Lake

Not exactly a great start to my adventure but as long as it does not get any later, I should have no problem getting my connection in Montreal. It was a big plane – a 777 ER with about 400 plus people on board. As it was full flight they asked for passengers willing to check bags. Normally I would not do this but I thought as I had a 31/2 hour layover in Montreal, it would be convenient to have my carryon go straight through to Deer Lake plus they offered me preferential boarding. However as soon as I checked my bag, they announced a delay! My window in Montreal decreased to 21/2hours! Of course it adds to the uncertainty but they have a great system that keeps track of your bag and confirms its passage on each flight. So I knew it was on the Deer Lake flight and it wasn’t even last bag off.

The first leg was easy and smooth although we had a captain who flipped the seatbelt sign at every bump then left it on so long that everyone ignored it. I took advantage to watch Enclave, I had wanted to see it and it seemed topical. All the top candidates for pope shafted themselves and they ended up with a hermaphrodite pontiff. It was really fascinating and time flew.

I passed my time in Montreal at the “Pork and Pickle” enjoyed a tasty blacked chicken club which seems more like a chicken burger however the Heineken was great. I had forgotten about airport prices – I could have almost upgraded myself to business class for the price of the meal!

The next leg was on a Mitsubishi CRJ900, actually made by Bombadier, it is quiet, small jet that took just over two hours but because of the time change, arrived at Deer Lake where my tour begins, at 23.37 – Newfoundland time is an additional 11/2 hours ahead so it would be only twenty to eight in Vancouver. I had a couple of glasses of free wine on the flight to Deer Lake which compensated for the fact there were no taxis waiting. I finally checked in at 12:30 in the morning. A big relief to get that giant step completed. I am now 6,299 km from home! It took me slightly longer than getting to London.

Deer Lake is a nondescript little place carved in two by the TransCanada. The nicer part is on the lake and on my first day I enjoyed a lovely seven mile walk along the beach then following the Humber River whose claim to fame is not only its Atlantic salmon sports fishery but that Captain Cook before becoming famous explored up river for 24km from Cornerbrook to Deer Lake in 1767. Apparently his success at mapping Newfoundland led to his appointment to the Beagle. It was a very pleasant introduction to “The Rock” as Newfoundland is fondly called.

On my second day, I completed the walk along the Humber River that I had started the previous day. At the end there was an extension that looped around. Always interested in not having to retrace my steps I ventured on. Alas, the excellent signing petered out. Some miscreant had destroyed a signpost and I got misdirected. (A nicer word for lost) Fortunately I could tell the approximate direction. from Google maps but the outcome was walking beside the TransCanada for a while. No harm done and soon I found the trail.

The weather has been dry for two days and will likely stay this way for the first three days then rain is threatened for the final three.I did not experience much of the traditional Newfie hospitality. One of my few social interactions was with a driver asking, “Where the f**k do you think you are going” when he thought I had crossed the road in front of him. Although I was probably guilty of following Vancouver road rules he had been at a stop sign.

The adventure continues, tomorrow we meet at 8:00 which may seem early as it will be 3:30 at home! We head for Rocky Harbour and Gros Morne National Park, one of the highlights of the trip. Stay tuned for part two.

The Nightmare Continues

This can’t be happening! This is a continuation of the nightmare that began last September and I thought had concluded in November when I finally surrendered, changed my flights realizing I had no choice but to honour my non-cancellable commitment of $6,800 for week at a lovely beachfront hotel in Sayulita. I considered it fraudulent but I had no proof and neither https://hangin.wordpress.com/2024/10/30/booking-com-scam/ or Mastercard would do anything to help. As the pleasant lady at Royal Bank told me, “Go away and enjoy your holiday” This proved more challenging than I expected.

Now here I was, standing bemused and confounded being told that they had no record of my reservation. I can’t overstate how dismal it felt as the prospect of an enjoyable vacation in the sun dissipated like a snowflake on a warm palm. I stood helplessly proffering my confirmation and wondering what had happened to my money.

Then the receptionist said, “oh that is the other Playa Azul” “There are two in Sayulita?” I stammered. “Yes” she said pointing at the sign above her head, “we are Playa AzulPitaya” Now a sense of embarrassment and stupidity joined shock and bemusement to the cavalcade of feelings flooding my body. Somehow I had booked the wrong hotel. She kindly showed me the way pointing away from where I was standing.. “It’s not even on the beach?” I said with resignation as I set Google and trudged on thinking I had spent king’s ransom on a hotel with no beachfront!

The words of poet Stephen Dunn’s poem about the journey rang in my head, “Trudge on, in the higher regions where the footing is unsure, to trudge is to survive.” In the back of my mind the word “equanimity” resonated. Was this yet another test or was there greater meaning?

Sadly the drama wasn’t even over. I couldn’t find the second Azul. I retraced my steps and entered a hotel with no name but got the familiar refrain. They thought it was the black doors next to them but no – eventually I found a tiny plaque with the name and a telephone number beside brown locked doors. No reception, a small two story building behind them. Was this it? My cel plan in Mexico has no phone just data so only connects on Wharsapp or FaceTime. I returned to the other hotel and asked if they could do me a favour and call the number I had just obtained.

They were so helpful. They called and the first response was the hotel were expecting no guests that day, and no they were not expecting a Mr. Simpson at all, oh but they were expecting a Mr. Trevor but not until Wednesday! Could it get any worse? The super agreed to meet me at the entrance in twenty minutes. My vision of an evening walk on the beach was fast disappearing. I knew what had happened, they had changed my reservation before I tried to cancel it but the change had not made it through to booking who had insisted I was stuck with the 20th resulting in me changing flights at significant extra expense.

I stayed calm but needing resolution. The charming receptionist at the Playa AzulPitaya that I had intended to stay in had said she could accommodate me if worse came to worse. Finally the supervisor of Playa Azul turned up, she had fixed the dates so I could stay that night for seven days and I noticed a vague sense of disappointment. I did not like the location at all. Then she led me to the room, I noticed a desire to be over critical. It was very spartan, spacious had no warmth and poorly equipped, with no bedside lamps, However when she showed me to the patio, it was spacious, it had a lovely small pool, about the size of a snooker table that I assumed was for my personal use and lounge chairs and a table. I thought perhaps this may work for me but no, i was told it was the community pool which other guests could enjoy between 10:00 am and 9:00 pm.

I did not show my disappointment, just sighed and resigned myself to the experience. I began gloomily unpacking then stopped deciding to take a walk through the village while it was still light and try for an attitude adjustment.

As I strolled slowly and somewhat dejectedly reflecting on what the lessons were in this whole experience. Obviously employing more due diligence when booking, not getting panicked by the fact there was “only one pool view room left” (I realize now that was because there is only one pool view room.) Was this about my continued journey with practicing Equanimity. It seemed a constant and expensive theme when I travel. Or was there a deeper, more profound message I was missing. Perhaps from a Calvinist viewpoint I was supposed to pay for my errors through suffering and not enjoy my week.

At this juncture I perked up and decided that there was something I could correct. I turned and walked back to Playa AzulPitaya and asked if they could show me the room they had available and how much would it cost? The room was delightful, familiar and, overlooking a beautiful pool with the ocean audible in the background and for only $1000 Canadian, I could have the experience that I had anticipated. It was a no brainer. The money I had paid to the other hotel was long gone so why dwell on it.

I stayed one night in the Playa Azul and then moved to the lovely Playa AzulPitaya. I am sitting on my cute balcony, surrounded by palm tress, enjoying my morning tea with the gentle sound of waves in the background. As the anchorite Julian of Norwich wrote in the 14th century, “all shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well”. It works for me!

NB ironically the hotel I just left ended up charging me $3000 less than quoted price on booking.com. I guess at some point my insistence that the price had changed created a positive result.. I will continue to seek the deeper meaning of this whole experience while I’m enjoying my new locale. I think it beats being miserable!

My London Diary – 35 Days in London

I recently completed my longest stay in central London ever. I found a flat that was centred between Chancery Lane, Kings Cross and Russell Square. It was an excellent location and I could walk everywhere – west end in 30 minutes, St. Paul’s in 25 minutes; it was a fabulous vacation. I walked 300 miles, had surprisingly pleasant weather over the five weeks. I realized in 2018 when I did a house swap for a month with a place in Covent Garden that if I was going to stay in London, it would be in the centre. I kept a daily diary from November 15 to December 20 so if you are interested keep reading or just skim the pictures.

Day 1 Checked in at 1:30, walked to British Museum, then on St. Paul’s for evensong but had the time wrong so missed it. Feel at home it’s only ten minutes from where I stayed last time.

Day 2 walked to Trafalgar Square without directions then on the Mall, down to the Palace and back through St.James Park, the guards parade then home. Later walked to St. Paul’s again for evensong. Unfortunately a confirmation and baptism service with a Bishop presiding. Left early.

Day 3 walked to Thames, Millennium Bridge to south bank, walked along to Westminster Bridge then on to the Abbey where I met my friend Jan and we went to evensong. Then coffee and the walk home about 2.3 miles. Some rain.

Day 4 Lazy morning. Then walked to British Library for a flat white and to view the “Treasures” always a thrill to see ancient manuscripts. Evening walked to west end to see the play of Dr. Strangelove, amazing staging. Excellent show.

Day 5 Met my friend Jan at British Museum but she realized we had the wrong place and returned to British Library. There was an exhibition on “Medieval Woman in their own words” Quite fascinating. We are going to Norwich in quest of the anchorite Julian of Norwich.

Day 6 Walk to Shaftesbury Ave then on to Piccadilly Ciircus, up Regents Street to Oxford Street then Selfridge’s for coffee and minced pie with cream. Decadent but delicious. About six miles round trip.

Day 7 Trip to Pinner where I grew up. Medieval High Street, Queens Head 1540, The Victory 1590. Walk through Memorial Park, Heath Robinson Museum, West Lodge Primary where 70 years ago I was the first intake, Lloyd’s Court, Pinner Park, past my house, to Yeading Walk, on to my brother Ross’s place. He is 87 and basically, house bound.Good visit, I seemed cheer him up then walk to Harrow Station and train to Waterloo and on to Clapham Junction in rush hour! Dinner at Taverna Travestere with Jan and two of her friends, Weston and Lynn.

Leadenhall Market – where Matt Damon met Cecile de France in Hereafter.

Day 8 walk to Leadenhall Market, lunch with my friend Kylee at the Lamb Tavern. Duchess of Amalfi play at Trafalagar Theatre. Jodie Whittaker – second act – torture, murder and mayhem. Jodie great but second act hard to watch.

Day 9 Rain Laundry challenge. Walk to National Portrait Gallery. Rain. Walk back via Strand.

Day 10 Very windy, Royal Parks closed! Long walk – Shaftesbury Ave, Chinatown, Piccadilly Circus, St. James Church on Piccadilly, along by Green Park and Hyde Park then to Fortnum and Masons and Harrads (It is so big even the store guides get directions wrong) Home via Constitution Hill, the Mall and Trafalgar Square. Stopped for evensong at St. Martin’s in the Fields.

Day 11 Just set out wandering. Found myself walking past where Charles Dickens lived, then the Old Curiosity Shop, through LSE campus, down to Victoria Embankment, crossed the Thames on Blackfriars Bridge, Jubilee walk to New Tate, then on to Tower Bridge, crossed then walked home passing Tower of London, the Monument, and St. Paul’s.

Day 12 Walked to Camden along Regent Canal to have lunch with my nephew John. He was delayed due wimming injury, cut head, in ER. He swims every day outside in Hampstead ponds! Finally met at 2:00. Walked home, then to Haymarket to watch Waiting for Godot. Strange but mesmerizing.

Day 13 Met my brother Paul at British Museum for Silk Roads Exhibition. Interesting but a little old fashioned. Then an afternoon walk to the Millennium Bridge, south side walk to Hungerford Bridge, and home via Covent Garden for fish and chips. Mediocre!

Day 14 A day out of London. Walked to Blackfriars Station. Amazing view down Thames.Train to Haywards Heath. Met Sally and Stephen. Lunch in old pub Lindfield. Got lost walking home.

Strangely Conspicuous. Where the Spooks Work

Day 15 A quieter day. Walked down to Thames Embankment, strolled west to Millbank and Tate Britain. Coffee, then strolled the galleries before returning to Westminster Abbey Evensong via Vauxhall and Westminster Bridges. Home via Whitehall and Covent Garden. Saw MI6 building across Thames, strangely conspicuous for a building full of spies.

Day 16 Met my niece Wendy at airport, only twenty minute wait, Piccadilly Line home. Then walk to Covent Garden, Trafalgar Square, the Mall, Buckingham Palace, then St. James Park, then Victoria Embankment, then Courtauld Institute for tea and home up Drury Lane. Walked to Apulio Restaurant for dinner near Smithfield Market with Wendy’s daughter Amanda and and her husband who were coincidentally in London at the same time.

Day 17 Another full day. Some rain, bus to Hampstead and The Freemason Arms for Sunday brunch with Wendy’s cousins Katie and Michael. They had not seen each other Katie was six! Then coffee and a walk up to Parliament Hill for the view. Home on the 46 bus.

Christmas Lights with Devon, me, Wendy and Amanda

Out again to meet Amanda, and D2 for a walk to see Christmas lights. Covent Garden Apple Market – amazing tree. Then Martin’s Lane, Leicester Square, Chinatown, Shaftesbury Avenue, Piccadilly Circus, Regents Street – spectacular! Oxford Street past Devil Wears Pravda where the premiere was scheduled at $10,000 a seat, we had pizza and walked home past the British Museum where the Gala Fundraiser was beginning.

Day 18 Wendy and I left at 10:20 and got home at 6:00 after 24.5 K steps. Our route began passing the home of Charles Dickens, a brief meander as I got confused then on to the Temple Church – closed for Christmas services. Then on the Museum of London also closed as it is relocating, followed by the Guildhall Art Gallery- closed for a function. There seemed to be an undesirable pattern unfolding. We walked through the heart of the city with its fascinating architecture – the gherkin, cheese grater and the walkie talkie, (well known City office towers) past the Monument arriving at the lovely Leadenhall market for lunch. After a relaxing break it was the storied Tower of London. Well worth the visit and the price. Then we needed to retrace our steps to the restaurant for Wendy’s umbrella coincidentally visiting Londons oldest church “All Hallows by the Tower” which dates from 675. After retrieving the umbrella, we strode across London Bridge popped into Borough Market where long ago relatives had been barrow boys. We kept walking past Southwark Cathedral, the replica of the Golden Hind and on to the Millennium Bridge with its spectacular view of St. Paul’s just in time for evensong. Finally after the 25 minute walk we got home.

Day 19 Walked to Kings Cross, bus to Highgate supposedly but terminates at Parliament Hills stop. We walked through the Heath to Kenwood House, muddy at times. Then visited house – beautiful art including Vermeer, Gainsborough, Reynolds, Franz Hal’s. Then walked to P & Bs for lunch. Stayed until 3:30, then walk through Alexandra Park to station. Train to Kings Cross then home.

Day 20 Walked to Trafalgar Square. Down Whitehall. Saw changing of horse guards. Visited war cabinet rooms. Walked to Tate Britain. Amazing Turner collection. Crossed Vauxhall Bridge, walked past Covid Memorial, London Eye, had mulled cider by river, home across Waterloo Bridge.

Day 21 My Birthday – 80 and feeling good. Wendy and I walked to British Museum. Toured Egypt, Elgin Marbles and Sutton Hoo treasures. Walked up to British Library, toured the Treasures Room – Shakespeare First Folio, 1600 year old Bible. Lunch then walked to Regents Park and took Regents Canal towpath to Edgeware Road then walked to Selfridges. Coffee then home by tube. Disastrous start to my special birthday evening. Torrential rain, Uber never turned up – four times. Decided to walk, rescued by London cab. Instead of 6:15 arrived at 7:00. Amazing evening – front row, bottle of champagne and delicious food then amazing show – Cabaret. Walked to Trafalgar Square and took tube home rain had stopped.

Day 22 we had a plan to go to a store called Sezane which Wendy had been referred to by friends. Off to Notting Hill by tube. Katie had to pick up a scarf so I texted her while I was waiting for Wendy. She hot footed over and we went and got a coffee, then amazingly bumped into her husband who never goes to Notting Hill then bumped into Wendy as she left the store. Everything was going smoothly. We strolled Portobello Market, visited the book shop connected with Notting Hill the movie, then retraced our steps, strolled across Kensington Gardens to the Albert Hall and the Memorial then on to Harrods for an insane experience touring the food halls. The crowds and disorganization were impossible. So we left. We searched for a coffee place finally settling on one just before Green Park, not realizing it was the most expensive place in the world.

The Berkeley – we paid £33 or about $60C for two coffees and a bottle of water! Then on through Green Park, The Mall to Trafalgar Square where we tried the National Gallery – at least an hour wait at 4pm on a Friday. We went to the National Portrait Gallery instead. Home via Charing Cross Road and Covent Garden just before the rain started.

Day 23 Wendy leaves for home. Stormy day. Walk to Russell Square, then Euston for train to Queens Park and my niece Katie’s place and a birthday celebration for my sister-in-law Bernie; they kindly shared it with me. Delightful evening, amazing food prepared by the brothers John and Michael. I drank a little too much. Home by Uber,

Day 24 A quiet morning. Then a walk in windy conditions – Covent Garden, Trafalgar Square, St. James Park, across Westminster Bridge, south bank to Waterloo Bridge, over to Somerset House for coffee then home in the rain

Day 25 Train to Norwich with Jan, the beautiful cathedral, tour with guide Joan, on to St. Julian Church where Julian of Norwich was anchorite. The church had been destroyed in the war but rebuilt. Her most renowned quote, “All will be well. All manner of things will be well.”

Day 26 Unexpected visit from Amy – niece from Devon. Picked her up at Paddington. Bus to British Library. The Treasures Room then lunch. Home before walking to Shoreditch, dinner at Santo Remedio, a cute Mexican restaurant. On to a movie premiere featuring her song “That Day” at the close of the movie. The movie “Beneath” interesting psychological thriller. Met Countess who thought I was in the movie! Very fun evening!

Day 27 Amy leaves, went for Tarot reading, a gift from John for my birthday. Met John for lunch in Fitzrovia, home via Leicester Square.

Day 28 Walk to Temple, across Blackfriars Bridge to walk past Globe to Southwark Cathedral, Shakespeare Memorial and window, Borough Market, rain! Back to Globe to do guided tour. Excellent! Actors rehearsing, open theatre like the original, a recreation of the original 1600s building. Capacity now 1500, used to be 3,000 plus! About half standing! Home across Millennium Bridge, then tried to loop back via Temple, now closed. Got lost getting home but found Hatton Garden, the diamond centre of London. It makes wandering London such fun – always something unexpected. Walked to Westend for Matilda – very fun musical.

Day 29 Train to St. Albans to meet my friend Kylee. Toured the Cathedral. Interesting old building. Situated on ancient Saxon church, erased by William the Conqueror who did love his big Norman churches. Interesting mix of Romanesque and Gothic. Lunch then fast train home. Only 30 minutes.

Interesting Use of an old Gasometer at Coal Drop Yards

Day 30 My first sunny day for a while. A walk to Regents Canal, then along towpath to Kings Cross Coal Drops Yard, an amazing commercial reclamation of land that was originally the main distribution centre for coal, became a rave scene in the old warehouses and then developed into an beautiful shopping/market area beside the canal. It was fun to explore; I reached the Lightroom that features various immersive shows like Moonwalkers, a revisit to the Apollo explorations narrated by Tom Hanks. There wa a choir on the steps overlooking the canal that I stopped to enjoy, then a meandering walk past the British Museum, to Oxford Street then home. In the evening I walked to the Apollo Theatre to see Fawlty Towers. I got a half price tickets. It was an enjoyable nostalgic experience, beautifully executed, and the Basil Fawlty character was an amazing dopple ganger for John Cleese. I did feel a vague sense of disappointment that there was no new material and except for Basil, the characters could not quite live up to their TV opposite numbers.

Day 31 I walked back to Kings Cross Coal Drop Yards. Full of people and Christmas bands – very live,y. I went to the Lightroom and purchased a ticket for Moonwalkers, a large screen, wrap around presentation of the 12 men who walked on the moon. Amazing only twelve out of 108 billion. In the late afternoon I walked to St, Paul’s for a Christmas event La Nativite du Seigneur- nine meditations for Organ. A lovely experience.

Tourists line up for a picture of a telephone box and Big Ben

Day 32 After lunch a roving walk, through the sprawling campus of the LSE, past a silversmith with a date of 1690, on to the Embankment, then back via Big Ben, Birdcage Walk then through the Parade grounds of Kensington Palace to Whitehall, past Nelson’s column humming the irreverend Aussie ballad, “I go down to Trafalgar Square and tell Lord Nelson standing there, get stuffed, get stuffed you one eyed pommie bastard” – always makes me smile. Then home via St. Martin’s Lane and Covent Garden. In the evening I had a very expensive ticket for a sold out play called Oedipus. It was brilliant; the restrained Brits rarely give standing ovations but this modern adaptation of the Greek myth deserved one and received it.

Day 33 I was meeting my friend Jan at the Tate Britain. After coffee we toured the amazing William Mallory Turner galleries. Such a treat! I walked the six mile round trip and was ready for a break when I got home. Only two days left!

Day 34 I had tickets for a matinee, not my preferred time for a play but the only time I could get tickets for Barcelona, a play starring Lily Collins of “Emily in Paris” fame. It had rave reviews and had been recommended by three friends. With some anticipation, I sat in my fifth row seat waiting for the performance to begin. At first I feared it would just be Emily in Barcelona, naive dumb yankee having a love affair with cute Spaniard. However, the plot developed, became intense, complex, at times funny and at times moving. It fully lived up to expectations. Then I walked home via Haymarket, Regents Street and Oxford Street to get a final look at the glorious Christmas lights.

Day 35 My final day. It was time to say farewell for this trip. I had an appointment with my brother and his wife for lunch at Kenwood Gardens. It gave me a last opportunity for a walk on Hampstead Heath then home to prepare to leave. Five weeks of not living out of my suitcase, it was time to pack again!

Devon, Cotswolds and Stratford

I have arrived in London after 19 days on the road, walking about ten miles every day with not a drop of rain, not much sun but it was dry. How amazing is that for November in the west of England? This blog is a bit long as I wrote every day. However you can just skip to the pictures!

North Devon

My ten nights in North Devon were relaxing, social and energetic. The first four nights I stayed with my sister Chris and her husband Roy. Each morning Roy, a coffee maestro, would make me a delicious flat white, while my sister demonstrated her remarkable skill at jigsaw puzzles, some thing the defeats me. Then a visit to the cafe run by their son in law a block away before I would set out for my daily walk. I managed to walk six miles at least everyday. They are a little way from the ocean so I would walk the Tarka Trail, which follows the river, or climb up into the hills for gorgeous views. Each night my sister prepared a delicious meal.

The final six nights were at a stunning art deco hotel overlooking Saunton Sands Beach and appropriately named Saunton Sands Hotel and being November it was relatively inexpensive.

The view I woke to every morning was alone worth the price. It is a very old school hotel, the staff are so polite it’s like a movie set. It also has an exquisite spa which I tried to frequent every day for a steam, sauna, hot tub and swim. I mostly lived on the amazing breakfast provided as part of the room charge.

My walks got even longer visiting most of the area’s blue ribbon beaches. My final day’s walk was the longest over ten miles or sixteen km. I did not always know where I was and it was on one of my expeditions off the grid that caused me the greatest anxiety. I had become lost walking to Woolacomb and rather than retrace my steps I decided to take a narrow, somewhat steep trail to the beach where walking would be easy. Getting there was not; the trail got steeper and steeper, eventually offering me a knotted rope to hold onto, but left me perched above some jagged rocks with no easy route. This was not the most sensible thing for someone who is hoping to reach 80 intact. I took it very carefully and survived.

During my final day in Devon I woke to find Trump had won the election. It was a good place to absorb and find some equanimity with the expected yet unbelievable result. I would walk the beautiful Devon countryside reciting Wendell Berrys poem called The Peace of Wild Things written for moments like this.

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light.

For a time I rest in the grace of the world,

and am free.

Cheltenham

My first stop is on the border of the Cotswolds having the advantage of regular bus service and was also on the main line from Exeter. I arrived at just after three and decided to walk the 35 minutes to my Airbnb. I found it a nondescript, somewhat down at the heel, uninteresting town. It seems to have more barber shops than any place I’ve ever visited. I presume everyone likes to keep their hair neat in contrast to the town itself. My Airbnb was up two flights of steep stairs, It had been well renovated but also very spartan. My host is a male which perhaps explains the complete absence of any feminine touches. There are no toiletries in the bathroom, and the towels feel like sandpaper. Presumably fabric softener is not considered eco friendly.

I was only here two nights and my primary interest was going to Gloucester Cathedral. Gloucester is a 20 minute train ride from Cheltenham. Unfortunately, on this day they were having graduation ceremonies in the Cathedral, presumably from the posh private school adjacent to it and it was closed. I checked with ChatGBT on other areas of interest and visited the reimagined dock area now replete with upmarket designer wear and trendy restaurants and coffee bars. It was fun to wander,

Not Gloucester Cathedral but I liked the authenticity

I popped into the Mainers Chapel. It is a simple unpretentious church built in the mid eighteen hundreds for dock workers and still used today. My last stop was the petite free museum displaying elements of the rich history of the city. It had been an important Roman centre called Glevum. It had later been besieged by King Charles during the Civil War and had not been taken.

I realized that I would have time to visit another destination that had been recommended to me. This was Tewkesbury Abbey in the village of Tewksbury. This became the highlight of my day as Tewkesbury itself is a very cute medieval English village that has existed since the twelfth century. It is historically significant as there was a famous battle here between Edward IV of York and the Lancastrian forces under the son of Henry VI who were defeated, and this established the York house in power until Richard III was defeated.

Tewksbury Abbey is amazing. It was founded in 1087 as a Benedictine Monastery and the great cathedral survived the dissolution of the monasteries because the town purchased it as their church. It is a wonderful example of Norman architecture with its imposing tower and intricate stained glass. It is worthy of its place as one of my most memorable great churches of the UK.

Bourton on the Water

I arrived here after a 45 minute bus ride from Cheltenham. It is an improbably cute village with a small stream running through that adds to the picturesque stone buildings that surround it. It is an excellent introduction to the renowned beauty of the Cotswolds. There is one downside – the cel signal is so pathetic Google maps only pretends to work and once you are sufficiently and inexorably diverted from your destination; it just stops, not even leaving you with a map to work out where you are. It simply echoes interminably “rerouting” but never actually does! My love hate relationship with Google maps is ongoing. I asked my host if she had a map of trails but she says they are rubbish as well but she suggested a link developed by a local person that is very precise. I decided to download before I leave on my planned walk.

My chosen route was the Slaughter circuit – fortunately no connection with murder and mayhem but rather two villages Upper and Lower Slaughter reputed to be one of the most scenic walks in the Cotswolds. The name Slaughter descends from the Saxon “slohtre” for muddy place and despite ten days of dry weather, one can appreciate how muddy it could get. My downloaded guide worked brilliantly and I took a complex route on public footpaths, across fields, beside what are named rivers but looked more like creeks, on minor roads and after three miles found myself descending towards Upper Slaughter, another quaint village with its own significant church, (no service today despite being Sunday.) it seemed to have an area priest, who I encountered in Lower Slaughter where they were having a service.

The two villages are about a mile apart connected by Wardens Path. This travelled beside the river that flows in a separate drainage from the one in which I started. I helped a number of walkers gazing in puzzled bewilderment at their printed maps after losing cel signal. It was about five miles round trip and truly delightful starting in mist and ending in pleasant Fall sunshine. (Reminding me I had lost my sunglasses – the pair purchased in Valencia, replacing the pair I lost there, which had replaced the pair I had purchased on the Camino – there is a pattern!)

I returned to Bourton on The Water in time for a coffee and a snack and it was still only 1:30 so I set out on another walk. This time I was less successful and never found the beginning of the trail I intended to take, I decided to make my destination, a village called Lesser Rissington. It took me about 30 minutes and finished with a continuing ascent. By the time I got there, I was ready for a beer and decided to stop at the first pub I found. Alas I think I had chosen the only village in the Cotswolds without its own pub! So my gratification was delayed until I completed the walk which ended up 4 miles in total. So it was a good exercise day. Tomorrow I head for Chipping Camden, another name with a story I am sure but I’ll leave that for later

Chipping Camden

Despite being only 15 miles away, it took me two hours to make the trip. This is partially because I had to connect in Moreton-in-Marsh, a 45 minute wait but I found a coffee shop nearby. Also the buses take some tortuous routes to take in small towns and in this area there is generally only one bus each way a day. Then my trip was extended because Google maps took me ten minutes past my location presenting with a house with red brick on Station Road that was not the one I was looking for. (The instruction incorrectly said that my Airbnb was the only red house on Station Road.) I am still confused about how Google got it so wrong because it was tracking a postal code I had been given to find the place as they don’t have street numbers for some reason. I had in fact, walked right past it, but was studying my phone at the time to ensure I was on the right track. I was, unfortunately Google wasn’t. The amused and bemused owner of the wrong house, not wanting an unwelcome and confused guest, was kind enough to drive me back to the correct place. This turned what was somewhat annoying into a positive experience. Thanks Andy!

Soon I was welcomed by Sue my host who showed me a lovely suite – of course on the top floor – they all seem to be – but finally I was there. I did not stay long, I was hoping to complete a four-mile circular walk. First I strolled through the town. There is a long through main street lined with the characteristic cream/honey coloured limestone that is so characteristic of this area. It is delightful, at the end of the town I found St Catherine’s Church where I turned looking for Hoo Lane that led me past some stunning Cotswold homes owned likely by London stockbrokers. It gradually ascended getting narrower, less unimproved, past a farm with fresh eggs for £1:50 half a dozen before becoming a grassy trail. I was now on the Cotswold Way that if I stayed on would take me to Bath, over 100 miles away.

The steady climb eventually reached a road where I had spectacular views of the village below. I crossed the road where I found the trail continued to Dover Hill where I had a somewhat obstructed view of the Vale of Evesham. At this point I had correctly left the Cotswold Way, but after one sign what was supposed to be a circular route back to Chipping Camden petered out and I was heading in a most counter intuitive direction. I have noticed this a number of times in the Cotswolds, the maps and directions seem to prepared by some malevolent lunatic whose primary goal is to confuse and lose people. Discretion got the better of valour and I retraced my steps. Regardless it had been a success and I got home before dark.

The next day was my final day walking in the Cotswolds and I chose a one way walk from a town named Broadway and Chipping Camden. It was about 7 miles or 11km. Once again I could find no decent trail map or directions. I consulted ChatGBT to see if AI could provide clear directions which it seemed to but soon after setting off I realized it it had a very human trait – when asked the way it would direct you even if it knew the way or not. I soon found myself struggling on the first part of the walk to a tower on a ridge called Broadway Tower. It is what in England is described as a folly, something put up for entertainment purposes no real value except for a great view.

Beautiful but the trail was hard to follow

I followed the instructions which told me to follow the clear signage saying “Cotswold Way” except I saw no signs for two miles. Instead I followed what looked like acorns with arrows. As I gradually found myself deviating from what seemed the logical route I began to think AI was just another tool to get me completely confused. Then to my delight I saw five walkers coming toward me. Sadly they were even more lost than me, so I decided to show them the route that seemed to make sense. Sure enough shortly the tower loomed into view and step one was completed.

Now it was time to find the route that would take me the next five miles. Fortunately, I was in one of the few places that had a decent cel signal, and I could get the direction to Chipping Camden. That allowed me to find the continuation of the Cotswold Way and for a time I was confident in where I was heading. Then of course, the dreadful, rerouting sign pops up on my phone. I have no signal; I have no good directions; it is very exposed; it is cold and very windy with rain looming.

Fortunately, in this case, fortune favoured the brave and I found my way back following the arrows on the styles and gates that rarely let me down. However, it was almost 2 hours before I found myself walking back through Chipping Camden feeling somewhat relieved. I decided it was time for a glass of wine and some victuals (now pronounced vittals). I realize how incredibly fortunate I have been that it has been dry for the past 10 days and temperatures significantly above normal. Yet in the Cotswolds, it is still quite muddy and what that would be like in normal November conditions is hard to believe. In addition, temperatures have been much milder for this time of year and it was only today that they seem to reach more normal levels and it was only 3° when I got up this morning. so I have been very blessed during the walking period of my trip here. I have walked just over 180 km since I arrived in Devon and not a drop of rain.

Tomorrow I travel to Stratford on Avon for a couple of nights and then on Friday I get to London. However, before I leave the Cotswolds, I have to reflect on my fascination with the names of the towns. There are quite a number of Chippings in the area as well as a number of Camdens. Chipping comes from the old Saxon word “ceping” meaning market while Camden comes from two old English Saxon words – camp and denu – camp refers to enclosure and denu meant valley. I am learning that most of what seem to be crazy names in this area are based on logic and the old Saxon. Names can also be based on Roman, Norse or Celtic.

Stratford on Avon

Although not officially in the Cotswolds, it is on northern boundary. I had always had a yearning to visit the home of the Bard but it had never been convenient until now. Here I was at the edge of the Cotswolds only a 50 minute bus ride away. I found a surprisingly inexpensive Airbnb only 15 minutes walk from the centre, I purchased a ticket for Othello and was ready to walk the walk of the great man himself.

But of course it wasn’t! Stratford has little in common with a fifteenth century Tudor village. There are lots of Tudor facades, the name Shakespeare is everywhere, but the ambiance did not fit my expectations. I felt mildly disappointed.

There are four primary Shakespeare attractions: his birthplace, the “new place” where he lived later in life, Anne Hathaway’s cottage, and the Holy Trinity Church where he was buried. First I set out for Shakespeare’s birthplace. It is mostly concealed by a museum and welcome centre. I had no desire to pay the £20 for entry so took a quick snap from the Main Street then set out for Anne Hathaways cottage about 1.5 km walk. It is beautifully maintained, more of a farm house than a cottage, again for a fee I could have gone in but decided against. Two down two to go.

The other two I could not have entered whether I wanted to or not as they were both closed. Basically the “new place” is a garden on the site where he is presumed to have lived later in life but over 400 years both his house and its successor have gone. Holy Trinity church on the Avon just past the Royal Shakespeare Company Theatre is still there but closed on weekdays in November. (Not enough American tourists to make it worth while I guess!) Speaking of Americans, Shakespeares birthplace was almost purchased by PT Barnum who planned to dismantle it and ship it brick by brick to the USA. Who knows what that could have done to tourism.

I found Stratford small and after walking around it a few times, I needed more exercise so decided on a walk beside the River Anon. First I walked along the north bank past Holy Trinity then when the path diminished to a muddy track and crossed a convenient old bridge. On the other side I walked on until I reached a weir and a lock that would allow boats to navigate further. At this point the path disappeared into the woods so I turned back heading into town. Then I sought out the Stratford upon Avon canal that had been resurrected in 1964 as a tourism project. I walked along the tow path into downtown past numerous locks. It is very narrow, only one boat’s width and eventually leads back to the river by Stratfords main bridge – Clopton Bridge named after Hugh Clopton who built in 1485. As I read “Stratford upon Avon is of small size but large in history and interest.”

To get home I crossed another adjacent bridge that had been built much later in the mid 1800s for the tram into town. I walked along the scenic tramway for a mile or so before returning to my Airbnb.

My final evening was spent at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre watching Othello. I don’t think I have ever seen it before except maybe as a movie. This was a simple production on a spartan stage with splendid acting, Venetian costumes doing justice to Shakespeare’s remarkable story of jealousy and manipulation. It was great to see it presented without serious adaptation which is now all the rage. I found it spellbinding and a great way to finish my time in the home of the Bard.

Germany, Paris and England

On the Road – Again

The original idea for this trip was to escape to the UK for my 80th Birthday on December 5th; next was the decision to stay for Christmas, then I decided to visit my friend Olga in Hamburg. She felt November was too late to visit so I decided to leave October 16th. Suddenly my trip had extended to ten weeks, the longest since 1992.

I flew across on Condor airlines, my first experience with this airline because its one way business class was half the price of Lufthansa. It meant travelling the last leg to Hamburg in economy but I could live with that! I was very pleasantly surprised as the experience was if anything better than its rival although their boarding procedure was bizarre combining groups 1 and 2 into one massive, incoherent line. However safely on board I relaxed with my glass of champagne and waited for take off.

All went smoothly in Frankfurt except the confusion of a terminal change and going through immigration without luggage, unusual for a Canadian. My bag despite having priority tags was last into the terminal. It was a thirty minute cab ride to my friend Olga’s flat and it was just after five when I arrived. I had met Olga on a pilgrimage to Assisi 15-years ago. We had met twice since in Erfurt and Sieversdorf where her daughter has a home. We had all been on the pilgrimage together.

It was lovely to see her again although my visit took on an unexpected turn as our beloved friend and teacher had died that morning and in addition she had a family crisis. So my visit was included some unexpected deep sharing and story telling. We drove to her country place near the Baltic. Murholm is a cluster of a few houses near a town called Rieseby and exquisitely quiet. Olga’s place is beautiful and I enjoyed many beautiful walks exploring the countryside. We left a day early so she could visit her brothers. My final day was in Hamburg where I walked the 8km circumference around the beautiful lake Albenaster just down the road.from her flat.

All too soon it was time to leave for Paris – 9 hours 24 minutes via Frankfurt and Karlsrue – it was on this trip that a strange phenomena began that concerned train confusion. In my own defence, I booked many of these trips over eight weeks ago so the memory had dimmed plus technical problems conspired to exacerbate the issue. For some reason I could not get a digital ticket. The alternative was a large complex, unfamiliar script in German that I had on my phone.

I was there early and eventually the train arrived on time and I began to search for a seat. Every seat had a sign saying “ggf reserviert” having no idea what it meant I asked someone to translate and they said seat reserved. I wandered the train and every seat had the same message. Finally I asked the conductor and he told me I was looking for “ggf.freigben” then he took pity on me and led me through the train seeking a free seat but there were non! Finally in the front carriage he plunked me down in an aisle seat and said this was free. I have just realized in writing this that “ggf” means the reservation system is not updated but reservations are still in effect. Most of the seats were actually free. Anyway it was a comfortable and uninterrupted ride to Karlsrue lasting 31/2 hours.

The actual ticket was twice as big but very small on my phone

For the shorter leg to Karlsrue I found a seat with no difficulty and was relieved to see in the small print I had a reserved seat from Karlsrue to Gare de L’est in Paris. When the train I arrived I could not find my seat until I walked through into First Class. I felt very ill at ease – had I made a first class seat booking by mistake? I pulled out my phone to check I had the seat reservation correct then looked up at the top of the ticket and in tiny letters under classe was the numeral 1! I should have been in first class all along!

The train arrived an hour late due to a track problem. I found my Airbnb and then the host was another twenty minutes. The flat was minuscule but well equipped and unusually had an elevator. It was located in pleasant area in the 11th arrondisment, close to the Place de Republique, and I sat out to explore and find food. However ran into a significant problem she had forgotten to tell me how to exit the building. Trapped in the lobby I texted her but she seemed to have disappeared. Standing frustrated I had yet another chance to practice equanimity as I waited for someone to return.

My two days in Paris were delightful on day one I walked to Musee Quai D’Orsee, a stunning museum converted from a railway station with an amazing display of impressionists. Many of these were collected by Gustav Caillebotte, a patron of the Impressionists when they were unpopular and donated to the state. I could not help but contemplate that these 74 paintings collected when they were considered worthless are likely valued at billions today!

From the Musee I strolled along the Seine to view the Tour d’eiffel and then on the Champs Elysee with its view of the Arc de Triomph at one end and Place de La Concorde at the other.

My second day a friend of mine had suggested Chartres Cathedral with its amazing stained glass windows. I did not take much convincing as I love all cathedrals and this was no exception. A number of friends had visited this to walk the labyrinth however it is covered with chairs as it only opens for a walking on Fridays. The stained glass is phenomenal and worth the trip of 11/2 hours from Paris.

All too soon it was time to check out and head to Gare De Nord for my Eurostar. My ill fated curse around train travel struck again when my ticket failed to open the barrier and I was politely informed it was for the next day! I felt extremely aggravated and torn between two frustrating alternatives – pay an exorbitant fee to change or find a hotel and stay another night. I decided to keep my trip on track and went on line to adjust. Fortunately the ticket could be changed within 24 hours, unfortunately the price increased three times but at least I was in standard premier. As I made the adjustment I also realized what had happened. Train Line the booking site I used, immediately corrects to the following day when you make a change and I almost rebooked for the day I was already booked. My original ticket had been for 10:10 but I decided it was too early and as it was flexible I pushed it back by two hours, never suspecting I had also moved it 24 hours. Sigh – yet another chance to practice equanimity in face of adversity!

The train ride was delightful, I had a pleasant meal, a glass of wine and a coffee and arrived at St. Pancras on schedule. It is the newly renovated terminal for the high speed link through England. It took only 2 hours and twenty minutes. To my surprise there was no border control in England. The series of automatic passport barriers in Paris had obviously cleared me into the UK. Even after Brexit, the Eurostar is seamless.

The next leg of my trip was to my brother’s place in North London. Paul and Bernie have a lovely house in Muswell Hill and they recently completed a renovated deluxe en suite on the top floor so I had a luxurious stay. Bernie made dinner my first night and I took them out to a lovely French restaurant called Cote in Muswell Hill. It was especially good to see my younger brother much recovered from heart surgery earlier this Summer. We had a visit to beautiful Hampstead Heath and Google and I found our way home.

The next day I renewed my frustration with train travel. I knew it would be a long, complex day as I had booked an early train so if it could work I would extend my trip to St. Austell to see my older sister and her ailing husband – they are both 89 this year. They are never sure how prepared they would be for a visit so if they were up to it I planned to add a day return to my already planned first class single to Exeter. (An extra four hours rain travel) This time I knew I had a discounted first class ticket. The problem occurred when due to the lateness of the train I found myself in the first class section of the wrong part of the train! The train consisted of two five car trains that were completely separate so when the train departed I found myself stuck in the wrong train in standard and could not get to my seat until we reached the first station in Reading in 22 minutes.

However this was the worst trauma of my day and everything else went smoothly. I enjoyed a lovely two hours with my elder sister and husband before finally arriving at Barnstaple at 18:43 to find three generations of the family waiting to greet me. My sister Chris, my niece Amy and her daughter Rita. Home for fish and chips. A lovely end to a fourteen hour trip.

So the first twelve days of my trip,were concluded, I now had ten days to rest and recuperate in beautiful North Devon with not a single train trip to frustrate me. Really no big deal!

Chartres – one spire much taller than the other.

Booking.com Scam?

I have just got off the phone from RBC credit card division both sadder and wiser. I got an awakening about how powerless they are to address an issue that apparently is becoming more prevalent due to online activity. Merchants can freely change the price for a transaction and if you have not taken a screen shot of the price you agreed, they will not dispute the payment made on your credit card.

On September 10th I used booking.com to book a week’s holiday at the Playa Azul Sayulita in Mexico. I had stayed there last year in December and loved my experience. For an ocean front room I paid $350 a night which although expensive was justified. This time I was booking for the end of January and to my shock prices had doubled even with a 40% discount. There was purportedly only one ocean front room remaining. I hesitated and finally pressed “pay” for a non cancellable commitment.

Then as I checked the reservation I realized I had booked the wrong dates so immediately contacted the hotel who confirmed they would adjust. When I went back to check if the change had been made, to my horror the price had increased to almost $1,000 a night and the dates were the same!

For two months I have been trying to cancel the booking. First with the hotel who after telling me on Sept 12th they needed to “escalate this to their management team” have not replied to any messages. It is now October 30th. Then through booking.com with whom I have had one message contact then three long calls.

First they totally ignored my message contact. A week later I called. It was amazingly frustrating. First they blamed me. “You misunderstood the rate; you confused exchange rates; it was your fault.” I persisted, they accepted no responsibility but agreed to request a cancellation at no charge.

Then I get this message, “your reservation does not allow free cancellation or modification, we have asked Playa Azul Sayulita if it was possible to make an exception for you. But we have not received a response from them. If they have not connected with you directly, here’s what you can do next. Contact them by message or by phone. Your reservation remains active and unchanged.”

I felt frustrated, they clearly were unwilling to address the issue that this impropriety that happened on their website and would take no responsibility. I waited three weeks and called again. This time the call was very satisfactory. The agent accepted responsibility, advised me this was not the first time, and that she would fix it. When I directly asked her the question, “can I forget this now?”, she replied, “yes you will receive your money in a few days.”

Relieved I let it go then a few days later I received the same message, “your reservation remains active and unchanged”.

I assumed it was just the automatic system but three weeks later my anxiety increased at the lack of progress so I called again. This time I again had a totally unsatisfactory experience The agent basically disclaimed the promise I had been made, told me he would email the hotel and ask to cancel but if they did not reply I was still stuck with the same situation. I pushed a little harder and said “why would you do the same thing over and over and expect a different result?” Apart from telling me the person I spoke to in early October had no authority to fix it, he seemed to be reading from a playbook – lots of apologies and false empathy but no action.

Finally I requested a supervisor. It took a while, the pretext they were all in meetings but finally someone came on the line. She was worse than useless. I realized that they were like trained monkeys repeating the same script over and over with no desire or authority to make any difference at all other than repeat “If the property won’t respond, you are stuck.”

I resorted to my final recourse to ask the bank to cancel the transaction. I called RBC credit division and had a very intense conversation with a woman I will call Rachel. She listened carefully, asked a series of insightful questions and really understood the issue. She was uncertain whether they could act because I had no evidence of wrong doing. Without a screen shot of the price I had been offered, it was unlikely they could dispute the transaction. However she said she would consult an authority and eventually came back and advised they could do nothing.

I asked her if the bank realized that this opened a door for on line scamming and she said that she considered Booking a scammer’s web site and that I should avoid them quoting, “if it looks to good to be true, it probably is.” I asked if they had many complaints with them and she confirmed that this was common occurrence. She recommended Expedia who the bank used for their travel program.

I was shocked, but no longer felt alone. There was also a sense of relief that I could stop trying to get any action from booking.com. At the end of the conversation, I asked if she could suggest any recourse. “Go away and enjoy your holiday” she replied.

Perhaps writing this is a form of catharsis. I will make one last effort to persuade the hotel to cancel then forget it and follow her advice. I would love it if some investigative journalist took on this story but my role is done. Meanwhile I will eliminate booking.com from my life and recommend you do too.

Spain – Valencia, Madrid, Cordoba and Granada

I am sitting on my flight to Lisbon, my visit to southern Spain seems over in a flash. I am feeling so relieved that I am in Premium, the flight is absolutely full and to avoid the hassle is such a relief. I had a relaxing time in the lounge and then was fourth on the plane. Three young ladies are trying to bring checked bags on the plane and arguing vociferously in Portuguese to avoid them being put in the hold. They seem to have lost the battle!

My exploration of Northern Spain completed, I set off for Valencia from Santiago de Compostela by train. It was a seven hour plus trip with a stopover in a very busy Madrid airport. The train reached 303 kph and I arrived on time at 4:40 then began the twenty minute google guided walk to the airbnb. I got to the location but could not figure out the entrance. I have never got used to addresses where the number follows the address, particularly when the numbers do not seem to be sequential. I sagged into a convenient bench and texted my host. This part of travelling is never my favourite time!

Fortunately Laura was most responsive and soon I found myself inside what proved to be a building with a doorman who completed the formalities. Always have your passport handy in Spain. Despite giving a copy to my host, the doorman required it too. Finally I settled in to a pleasant one bedroom apartment with a gratuitous gift of bread, milk, juice and coffee. I had four nights here to relax after my Galicia trip where I stayed in six places in eight days! My friend Sally from Tasmania would arrive tomorrow and we would travel for twelve days through Andalusia.

Valencia – the first two days the weather was definitively not what I expected – heavy thunder showers. My first night I sat under an umbrella at a street cafe outside the apartment and watched rain drops occasionally drip into my beer. Despite the forecast most people seemed unprepared and a parade of remarkably pretty women tried to dodge the downpour. The street I was on was a main shopping thoroughfare with many high end stores. I had a tapas of grilled garlic prawns – delicious. Between showers I had a walk, liked the neighbourhood and found an excellent supermarket.

The day before Sally arrived I checked “crazy tourist” and chose to do a couple of things not on her list. The weather in the morning was wet so I decided to visit the beautiful cathedral. I appreciate the churches in Spain, a chance to experience the beauty and sacredness of the space. After a break for cafe con leche, (the rule in Spain is 50% of each) it is strong, delicious but even the grande is small compared to North American tastes.

Then I chose a longer walk to Turia Park named after the river it replaced. In the eighties Valencia had serious flooding due to the river that ran through. The solution was get rid of the river! They diverted it to the south and it has been replaced by a beautiful 7km park that winds through the city. Of course there is no traffic; that passes overhead on what were originally the bridges.

I kept walking to a remarkable area called The City for Arts and Sciences. It is a new destination combining the Opera House, a performing arts centre, an aquarium, the science museum and a 3D cinema. It was all designed by the same València architect and is a magnificent site. I decided to forgo any of the attractions as I was enjoying my walk too much. I found a convenient cafe and stopped for water and coffee. Then walked home. I had time to meet Sally at the station, she had was arriving from Barcelona. It was great to see her again, we had last said farewell in Heraklion on Crete. She was not expecting me and marched past in a determined manner before hearing my shout. After introducing her to our place, we set out for dinner and an evening stroll.

The following day we set out with an agenda: the central market, Llotja de la Sede, a UNESCO heritage sight, a medieval building that comprised, a hall of Justice, a hall for trading and a dungeon for debtors, all set around a courtyard of orange trees. It was built from 1482 to 1533 and is in amazing condition.

One thing that was intriguing about Valencia is the volume of orange trees and the fruit that litters the ground. I found out from a personal taste test that for some reason oranges that fall from the these trees are pithy, dry, seed filled and inedible.

Next it was the Central Market an amazing locale replete with islands of meat, fish and other glorious produce. I ordered a sandwich and to my surprise found out that it came with a glass of wine. We found ourselves sipping vino at 11:00 in the morning. Sally describes our relationship as “walk, talk, eat, drink, sleep, repeat”. It seemed we were living up to our record! In the afternoon our walk was disrupted by a major storm so we sheltered in a cafe for a couple of cafe con leche before getting soaked walking home. Dinner was tapas and beer under cover!

Our last day in Valencia had no fixed agenda and as often occurs, it developed a magic all of its own. There was a museum I was interested in called Museo Fallas de Valencia. It was not what the more prurient of you may suspect. Every year in Valencia, each district prepares a sculpture based on a theme that is relevant to them. On March 19, these images are collected together and all except two are burned in a great festival. The two remaining which are chosen by popular vote are then stored in the museum. It is a remarkable collection of sculpture and was one of the surprise events of the trip. Sally had decided after my positive reflection, that she would like to visit the city for arts and sciences. It was relatively close to the museum so I took her along the river park so she could experience it.

Then it was time for coffee and reflection on next steps. We both had an inclination to visit Valencia’s beach on the Mediterranean. It was about a 50 minute walk from where we were having coffee so we decided to set out and have lunch by the sea. We found an excellent restaurant and decided to try Seafood Paella. It was absolutely delicious and yet another highlight of our time together.

The next day, it was time to catch the train to Madrid which has two major rail stations. We arrived at Chamartin. We had to take the metro to our next Airbnb. This is quite confusing as you can’t just buy a ticket, you have to buy a card and load a ticket on it. It took us some time to figure this out. We also had to change trains, and it was with some relief we found ourselves eventually at our flat for the next two nights. We were met by our host, a garrulous Spaniard, who gave us a detailed explanation of the flat and Madrid in broken English, which made him hard to understand. It was a relief when he left us to our own devices. We had dinner at what became Sally‘s favourite restaurant called Tia Maria on the corner of our street.

The next day we had tickets reserved at the Royal Palace, cross between Buckingham Palace and Versailles. The king and queen is still reside there, but there is a public area to explore which they also use for major events.

In fact, we saw the banquet room on television full of dignitaries a couple of nights later. We split up for the day and I did a lot of roaming to take in our personal highlights.

After the palace, I wanted to visit Almudena Cathedral which was directly across from it. Somehow in my quest to enter the cathedral I found myself paying six euro for a climb up to the dome to a grumpy woman who treated my query about senior rate with great disdain However despite the effort , it was well worthwhile as it gave me a great view of the city. I finally found the cathedral as I exited. It is fairly modern having been started in 1883 and finished 100 years later. However, it is quite beautiful and I was glad I made the effort.

Then I pursued a long roaming strategy through the old city, finding a flamenco display and eventually finding my way to the Prado, which is the great art museum of Madrid. It has an amazing collection of Renaissance paintings, including a Carravegio, Dommo Ecce which was almost sold for £1280 and has never previously been displayed. However, my favourite experience was a room dedicated to Del Bosco, who is not actually Spanish, but a Dutch painter named Hyronemous Bosch. He had a very bleak view of humanity that he presented in his work, but is exquisitely done.

Then I came across an unexpected juxtaposition- a Picasso situated between two renaissance pictures. It was quite a surprise. Finally, I walked home through a beautiful park, which was adjacent to where we were staying called IL Retiro, which was an attraction in itself with its own Crystal Palace in the Centre.

Next stop Cordoba, about two-hours by high speed train. We arrived at 12:20 with a 25 minute walk to our Airbnb. Our kind host not only agreed to an early check in but was standing on the street waving as we turned the corner. Enrico was extremely hospitable and the apartment had two bedrooms and was amazingly stocked with bread, milk, OJ, strawberries, butter, jam and a bowl of fruit. It was so kind and wonderfully central in the old town of narrow streets widening into broad boulevards and numerous courtyards and plaza. It fas became my favourite for wandering.

We had booked tickets at the Mezquite-Catedral – an astonishing combination of a number of mosques with a huge Cathedral imposed in the centre. I don’t think I have ever seen anything quite like it before. It, is vast, filled with numerous columns except for the centre where them church is located. We took about 45 minutes exploring before heading out.

There were many lovely experiences in Cordoba. We had a full two and a half days and explored separately as Sally liked to go out earlier when it was cool yet we coincidentally bumped into each other at least twice a day.

Other highlights included the glorious Alcazar De Los Reyes Christiano- an exquisite large spacious gardens of great beauty. There was a Roman bridge much modified across the River Guadalquivir which provided water for irrigation and had an interesting museum in the tower at the end. Plus there were numerous parks, museums, art exhibits, palaces and even a recent discovery of a Roman temple, (some I got in free, some reduced and some at full price – I never understood the policy. I simply asked if there was a concession.)

The final treat Sally had booked an evening performance of Flamenco dancing with a free glass of Sangria. it was a totally delightful and a great addition to our delightful Cordoba experience.

Next stop Granada, relatively close at an hour and a half train ride. We arrived at 1:30 and faced a gruelling slog from the station in 30 degrees up a steep cobbled hill to our accommodation. Fortunately our host met us or we may never have found the place. Nacho was an employee of the owner who had five units in the building. He was very helpful with some brilliant recommendations for dining and a greta knowledge of the history

The place was spartan to say the least, obviously a professional Airbnb, there were no supplies at all so our expectations for a cuppa required a trip back down the hill to the supermercado. The accommodation itself was clean, with a great view of the Alhambra as long as you were standing.

Granada is famous for the Alhambra that towered above us. We had a booking for the next morning at 9:00; it was a 25 minute walk up the hill. We passed through a gate and then walked across the site to the security check where they let us enter, as. we had a timed entry into the Palace Nazaries but after that we were free to roam at will. The Alhambra is an enormous sprawling complex, comprised of a number of palaces, museums, gardens and fortifications.

It combines exquisite Islamic architecture with later medieval Christian adaptions. Much of the original Islamic buildings are now excavated remains. I walked through the palace, out to the gardens then to the palace of Charles V also contains a Museum of Modern Art then along the wall through more beautiful gardens to the Sultans Palace. I concluded with a visit to the Alcazar, the original fort on the site overlooking the valley below.

I spent 31/2 hours there, quite surprising for someone with such a short attention spell. Then it was back to valley below and a visit to the massive cathedral, a quick stop for the most expensive coffee in Spain. Finally back up the hill to meet up with Sally. One of my favourite memories of Granada was the food. Our host had recommended three restaurants and each one while offering distinctly different tapas was top class.

Our second day we split up and both went for similar walks following the small creek which opened up some beautiful views then climbing up to Salmonica, an area that features limestone caves, then I kept going walking outside the remaining city gate before finding myself stuck by the wall itself. I stopped for my packed lunch then retraced my steps to return to the Alcabyn area, one of the traditional parts of the city with narrow winding streets and small squares. Finally Google guided me to a coffee shop where I took a break. It was mostly hot around 30 degrees. I enjoyed Granada but never really fell under its spell the way I did in Cordoba.

Our final day we had a later train so after check out walked down to our favourite restaurant for lunch then a leisurely walk to a chaotic station for our train to Madrid where after eleven delightful days we went our separate ways – Sally for her three day trip home via Athens, Singapore, Melbourne to Hobart and me to Lisbon for a couple of days.

Lisbon – I had last been here 51 years ago on the SS Fairstar en route to the UK. I on,y have two memories of that time – the monument to the explorers and an evening in a pub where I found a Brazilian blood brother. I still have no idea how I got back to the ship.of course now I am far more responsible! I was feeling touristed out after 26 days so took it easy. I was fortunate enough to have some excellent recommendations from my friends Sue and Dennis including the hotel I resided in. I basically followed in their footsteps.

My first day I went to Belem, a forty minute tram ride where the monument to the explorers is located and the sixteenth century tower that has overlooked the River Tagus for 500 years. As it was a Monday, and things close on Mondays, I could not visit the Cathedral where Vasco de Gama is buried. On the way home I stopped and walked along the waterfront, had a beer then booked a sunset cruise.

Finally I impressed myself by setting off the explore the colourful district with its distinctive buildings and narrow streets. I even found the cathedral but decided against paying the fee, just took a quick photo and left.

Sunset on the Tagus – the statue was based on Christ the Redeemer in Rio!

The sunset cruise provided a pathetic snack but a delicious glass of white wine. The light from the setting sun was luminous but I was ready to be first off when we docked. Not a bad day for someone touristed out! The next day I took it easier climbing up to the castle because the tram line was horrendous, the castle did not seem to be allowing any new visitors but I was not perturbed as I did not plan to go in.

Instead I followed Dennis and Sue’s advice to climb a church tower where for €5 they also provided a free glass of wine. Then it was a wander through the cute, narrow streets until I found myself unexpectedly at the waterfront with a pleasant 25 minute walk home. My last night was spent watching a dismal England draw with Slovenian in Euro 24. At least the meal was delicious and I drowned my sorrows in some delicious vino, a glass of port, and an unexpected glass of rose with my friendly Belgian neighbour Sven who was an Anderlecht supporter.

En Route to Toronto – It was a nightmare start to my return to Canada due to forgetting about European passport control, not allowing enough time to get from the lounge to the gate. Then being frog marched through the terminal by a determined employee to a remote corner where I was then loaded on a bus to get to the plane. It was the first time I have been the last person on the plane, sitting in my seat at 10:34 and seeing doors closed three minutes later. Needless to say it was a huge relief to finally relax- I believe they left some people behind! Only two hours to go to complete the original purpose of this trip – the wedding of my great-niece Amanda on Friday. It was a long way round but well worth it.

My date home is now in question as Westjet are on strike! at least I am safe and sound at my brothers place so a couple of days won’t affect me too much. This is the first time I have suffered such a problem in all my travels