• Australia
• Brisbane
• Chicago
• Darwin
• Hungary
• India
• London
• Lyon
• Melbourne
• New Orleans
• New York
• New Zealand
• Paris
• Patagonia
• Scotland
• Sicily
• South West France
• Sydney
• Switzerland
• Vanuatu
 

Chicago

Chicago was my first experience of staying with a SERVAS host, although I had contacted 'day hosts' before. I was having difficulty finding a room for the Saturday night, because there was a huge restaurant convention and every hotel seemed to be full. So in desperation I turned to the SERVAS host list for America and lo and behold! There was someone listing jazz and journalism among his interests! He subsequently saved me $399 by inviting me to stay an extra night- the hotel rate went up because there was a shortage of rooms, it really is outrageous that they can charge so much. True, they have very good staff, and also a lot of services. I know people on business don't have time to launder etc. but…. And there was a pool and fitness centre, which was really good, with exceptionally friendly staff. There was also a business centre, which was just daylight robbery, charging $6.85 for 15 minutes on the internet! I found a computer café on Ontario St. that cost $20 for 5 hours, and the Soho Grand hotel in New York and the Hotel Versace in Southport on the Gold Coast of Australia don't charge anything for their business centres. Also, most Australian hotels provide the use of a washing machine/ tumble dryer, a very good idea. This hotel in Chicago was the Intercontinental, on Michigan Avenue, and it did also have an excellent concierge service, which you don't get in more reasonably priced hotels.

Speaking of which, the hotel I was originally booked into was the Cass Hotel, "The downtown hotel without the downtown price." It looked nice, but was totally unsuitable for me, with stairs, a door, then more stairs before even reaching the reception. In my younger days……………….

The receptionist was very helpful, and found a room for me in the Intercontinental Hotel, a hotel which I had tried to book into a month earlier on the internet, which has severely dented my faith in the Internet.

I discovered quite a bit more about Chicago. Rush Street was within easy walking distance, and it is a lively street, many restaurants and night clubs. The Water Tower, on Michigan Ave, still pumps and filters some of Lake Eyrie, which is shared by four states: Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, and Wisconsin. There is a modern building next door which has taken the same name, which houses a 7-storey shopping mall, the first of its kind.

Chicago is a very clean city, with a lot of flowers, and a new Millenium Park, in a prime position between Michigan Ave. and the Lake. It hosts concerts and the annual jazzfest, has a huge modern sculpture and the Crown fountains, which depicts a face, and very little else that I could see. But it is a nice to stroll in - in good weather! The excellent concierge was able to get me in to the Green Mill, a famous jazz club. which was once a speakeasy owned by Al Capone, and holds about 175 people. It is not dressy, and a low cover charge, which they seem pretty relaxed about- or I suspect that may have been the doing of that excellent concierge. I couldn't get over how low the non-alcoholic drink prices were - $2! That is a good incentive for not drinking! I was sitting opposite a lady who gave me a potted history if swing dancing. Jazz and blues grew out of spirituals and gospel singing. It was known as the lindyhop, then, when it came to Britain during the war it became known as the jitterbug. This was when the ladies were swung into the air, doing the splits before landing again. Then swing, be-bop, hesitation,and now it is called stepping.

New Orleans

New Orleans, the pretty, graceful city with dainty iron filigree balconies filled with over-hanging baskets of bright flowers or green vines, glimpses of diners or house interiors through the half open shuttered windows, the black iron horse-tethering posts along some pavements, and glimpses of courtyards through arched doorways. It is a city dedicated to fun. In the Palm Court café it is not unusual to see dancers spanning five generations, or impromptu 'parades' by the customers, waitresses and waiters alike! Although Mardi Gas began in Italy in the sixth century, organized parades had to wait for the Americans organisational skill in the twentieth century By 1905 there were just 17 cars registered in New Orleans,. which was founded in 1722 by Bienville, a Frenchman.. It was French until 1760, then Spanish for 40 years before reverting to the French, who finally sold it to America in 1803. There is a statue to honour him in Decatur Street, just to the east of the Lafitte visitor center. There were two brothers, Jean and Pierre Lafitte Very little is known about Jean Lafitte. He was born about 1870 , and was a privateer, Eventually the English approached him, hoping that he would help them capture New Orleans. However, Lafitte told the French instead, leading to the defeat of the English, and after the war the two brothers were given a full pardon..

The architecture of New Orleans was influenced by the different nations, bright colours came from the French, and although they had balconies, it took the iron-making skills of the Spanish to produce the lacy iron-filigree work of the balconies. They also introduced courtyards and patios.

Degas lived here for a while. His mother was Creole. The French were fond of alleys, they were cool and shady and allowed the air to circulate, as did the louvred shutters on the houses.

Near the north end of the French Quarter lies Congo Park, where there is a statue to Louis Armstrong. The annual jazzfests are held here (at the end of April?)

One of the 'must-do's' for a visitor is a swamp trip. It really is marvellous scenery, with the almost continual background frisson of danger. Alligators have ashorter snout than crocodiles. There are no crocodiles in New Orleans. There are two types of crocodile, fresh and salt-water.and the latter are 'real mean' Alligators are only found in fresh water.
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The Mississippi river is swift, deep and dangerous. It is six feet above sea level. At New Orleans the river is at its deepest and widest, 200 feet deep and 200 wide. It can stray up to 50 miles from its course. Levies have been built to try and corral the river. It is 2,340 miles long, and goes from Minnesota to the gulf of Mexico. It has 7 major tributaries, notably the Missouri and the Ohio. In the Mississippi Delta there are 9 distinct dialects. On the river is the paddleboat Natchez. It has two sightseeing cruises a day which are really good value, as well as a narration, lunch and one hour of good traditional jazz music from Duke Heitger and his steamboat stompers. It also has a dinner cruise. The Natchez carries 1633 passengers. It leaves its berth with an obligatory blast of its whistle. New Orleans, with its well-known Jackson Square, was built in 1722 with the famous St. Louis Cathedral, the oldest in the USA. Pope John Paul visited it in 1987. Jackson was a hero of the Civil war, and later went on to become the seventh president of the United States.

There are 22 miles of wharves. 62% of all the coffee that's drunk in the USA passes through here. After the warehouses we passed the the New Orleans Centre for Creative Arts (NOCCA for short) where Louis Armstrong graduated. Then some land where a sea-captain built four streets, naming them after his four daughters. One used to be called Desiree Street, but at some time after the French sold New Orleans to the US it lost its final 'e' and became Desire Street, which would probably have gone unnoticed except that Tennessee Williams immortalized in "A streetcar named Desire". The New Orleans government is currently planning to re-install the streetcars.

Lake Pontchartrain, to the north, is at sea level. It is never more than 13 feet deep, and a 24-mile bridge spans it. There are two houses which are famous architecturally, known as the Steamboat houses. A captain built one for himself in 1904, and one for his daughter in 1905. They have different roofs, a traditional wood one, painted green, and the second had a black slate roof.

We passed Jackson Barracks, which is now home to the Louisiana National Guard. Then the sugar refinery, which produces 6.2 million pounds of sugar daily Finally we passed the battleground where the English and Americans fought each other for the last time. The civil war had been over for two weeks, but news traveled slowly in those days. England lost 2,000 men, but America only 9 - one of the most lop-sided battles in history! And the war was already over! .

New Orleans. November   2006

I ventured on to the ferry across the river  to Algiers but I couldn’t find anything – except the Dry Dock cafe, which seems to be quite an  institution.  It is a friendly bar with good food, and I believe they have live music on some evenings.   Iberville and his French explorers camped there before they founded New Orleans.   After consulting the calendar, (3.3.1699) they named it  ‘Le Point de Mardi Gras.   They had the first Mardi Gras celebration that night, and there are a series of placards in  the ferry terminal showing how the carnival has grown over the years.   In 1857 decorated  floats were introduced,  by the Mystick Krewes, known as ‘flambeaus’.   In 1894 the first black carnival club was started, and in 1949 Louis Armstrong was honoured as King Zulu.   The custom arose  of  ‘throws’.

Then I heard about City Park. This is HUGE – 11 miles long, it stretches most of the way to Lake Pontcharrain. It has four 18-hole golf courses in it, including practice areas, (but Edinburgh has something like 12 within the city limits!) There is a sculpture and art garden ( hardly surprising when the Louisiana Museum of Art lies at the entrance to the park, it is closed on Mon and Tues). A botanical garden, extensive woods, lagoons, nature trails, horse-drawn carriages and a festival with spectacular lighting.

New York

What a bustling, vibrant city, and everyone seems so pleasant, friendly and helpful. The staff at the hotel are particularly friendly, when I arrived for the second time after six months absence most of the staff either recognised me or knew my name, which is impressive in so large a hotel (Mind you, I am one of the few guests using a wheel-chair, as far as I know, although one doorman said it was because I went out so often.) The hotel is owned by Harts Mountain, a Philadelphia-based company who made their money in pet food, and is in favour of dogs; there is a large drinking trough at the entrance, and several life-size statues of greyhounds standing or lying among the potted palms.

Soho Grand Hotel, West Broadway/Canal Street. NYC. Tel = 212 965 3000 Fax = 212 965 3200

Across the street from the hotel are piles of flowers outside the attractively-named 'Soho Garden'; on closer inspection it turned out to be a large delicatessen, its shelves crowded with packets and jars and tins, but also, a wonderful choice of Asian-American food, hot and steaming and delicious. You can also get coffee and ready-prepared fresh fruit, and all manner of biscuits, buns and cookies. It is all so cheap as well - worth paying a bit more for the friendly Soho Grand if you can save on breakfast and lunch.

The hotel backs on to the Chinese quarter, while in the other direction are restaurants and art galleries among other shops. (Rocco's restaurant, at 188, Thomson Street, is just within walking distance, as is the art gallery in Spring Street, where I bought some paintings and also where I saw the painting of 'Leon de Lyon' which was the final straw in making me want to go there. (see 'Lyon') Gallery 151,
920 Third Ave, Between 55 and 56 St..

The other wonderful hotel I found, and at 1/2 the price, was the Chelsea Hotel. It used to be run as a cooperative, when over 40% of the apartments were let on a semi-permanent basis to artists and their dependants, The walls of the lobby and stairs were crammed with pictures, done by artists who had or were currently living there, though I don't know if they were accepted as payment for rent or not. Apparently they were just presents to the owner, Stanley Bard, from friends. Stanley has been running the hotel for over 50 years.

On the façade of the hotel are several plaques, commemorating famous artists who have lived there, such as Arthur Miller and Dylan Thomas. Some of the people who have lived or worked there have been Mark Twain, William Burroughs, O'Henry and Arthur Clarke. Before dying (of alcohol poisoning?) in a hospital, Dylan Thomas uttered his last words here, in room 206, which expressed satisfaction at having drunk so much whisky. Apparently Sid Vicious committed suicide while staying there. Once, as I passed through the lobby, an opera singer was doing some song-rehearsing. Jimi Hendrix used to rehearse here. One of the inhabitants is a sculptor. Most f the rooms have kitchens, and it has been likened to "a small village in a beg city'. Chesea Hotel, 222 West 23rd. Street, between 7th & 8th. Ave. Tel= 212 243 3700, Fax = 212 675 5531.

Lyon

Lyon 2004

I only went for three days, and missed what jazz there may have been. But I was lucky, it hardly rained, and I had a stroke of luck in meeting a former school teacher, Simone Aubry who gave up her afternoon and gave me a quick guided tour instead. I had decided to try and see some culture, but was not having much luck as the previous day had been a public holiday and today was a Tuesday, which is when most museums close.

The hotel had told me that the ‘muse des tissues et des arts decoratifs’ was quite nice, so, as they answered the phone, we set off down the rue Merciere, which is lined on both sides with all kinds of restaurants and bars. Apparently it used to be the red light district of Lyon. Along the adjacent streets we could see the basilica of Fourvieres. In the 18C there was a plague; The people promised to build a monument to the glory of God if He spared them, so…….

We passed ‘Le bisrot de Lyon’, which had a life-size painted (in very un-real colours!) lion on a block outside. Simone explained that recently 60 artists had been give the chance to decorate them how they liked. Now all the lions have been sold except that one – which I noticed was securely chained to the restaurant;

Lyon was first settled by the Romans, and the Rhone used to be used for transport. Trade became very important and trade with Italy flourished. Francois 1 appreciated the importance of trade and lowered or even abolished taxes for trading. In 1536 Lyon became a centre for trade fairs.

At the south end of the rue Merciere are some old buildings dating back to the Renaissance. They are of a lovely rose/ocre colour, and you can see the ‘tete de chat’ construction, which are beams along the floor. Into the Place des Jacobins, past the Theatre des Celestins and into the Place Bellecour, which is huge, and used for large ‘manifestations’ which I always think of as being rather anti-establishment. There was a large equestrian statue of Louis XIV. flanked by a man and a woman, I think the woman was representing the Saone river.

The we saw the museum, which, among other things, showed how serge, taffeta and satin were woven. Silk has played an important part in the history. It turned out that the old lady whom Simone was going to visit, used to be a silk worker, or canut’. The area where they all lived was the Croix Rouge because the houses were built with high ceilings to accommodate the looms so that the canuts could work at home..

One of the traditional dishes of Lyon is called ‘cervelles de canut’ - brains of the silk workers! It is fromage frais with onion and chives – cheap and nourishing.

There are two main hills in Lyon, which are known as the praying hill (Fourvieres, with the basilica on it)and the working hill(Croix Rouge, where the canuts live.)

The old quarter, although picturesque, is cobbled and steep, so we only went as far as cathedral of St Jean, which has a marvellous astronomical clock, it is in working order and chimes once a day, with moving figures, so it must be a pretty crowded occasion. Unfortunately we didn’t arrive until later, so that is one reason for returning to Lyon. Students were sitting in the nave of the cathedral, sketching the vaulted arches presumably, although the light was not very good.

Paris - Luxembourg Gardens

In Paris I go on guided walks round an area or subject, restaurants and galleries. The gardens of Luxembourg are a particular favourite of mine at the moment, having just been to see the exhibition of the history of the gardens, and of the large country house, Vauvert, at the south end which 'saint' Louis had given to the Chartreux monks. At that time it lay well outside the city boundaries. The house had been empty since Robert the Pious had lived there. When he had divorced his wife to marry his cousin the Pope had excommunicated him, on the grounds that the relationship was too close. No-one wanted to live where an excommunicated king had lived, and the house fell into disuse, providing a shelter for tramps, beggars, criminals, the homeless etc. Vines grew in the grounds, so there was a plentiful supply of drink. I read a novel, about time travel, and a couple from the mid-20th.C ended up living in Paris of 2-300 years ago, and the author, Diana Gabaldon, seemed to have done her research, because apothecaries were mentioned, which, to a large extent, was what the Charteux monks did, trying to make elixir of life. They never did, but they made Chartreuse. But because they occupied Vauvert, that did limit the expansion of the Luxembourg gardens to the south. 'Saint' Louis wanted to have an ecclesiastical movement near Paris, so invited the Chartreux monks to live there, which they did, despite the fact that this was out of character for them to live in such proximity to a large centre of population Some 50 years later, Marie de Medicis had the gardens of Luxembourg built.

During the Revolution, Vauvert was seized by the state. Now the gardens are a favourite spot for Parisians to go. Apart from walking and jogging, there are open-air concerts, boating, tennis courts, and for children pony rides, go-karts and play areas. There are chess tables, open air exhibitions, and exhibitions mounted by the senat, which are very extensive and well worth going to. I have seen ones on Raphael, Gaugin, Modigliani and self-portraits to name a few. Often there are a collection of large photographs mounted on the railings surrounding the gardens. There are over 200 species of rare trees, which are brought into the Orangerie in the winter, during which time the public is not admitted.

As well as trees, there is a vegetable garden, and bee hives - I don't know who gets the honey!

There are also innumerable statues dotted about. There are even stretches of lawn where people can picnic or do physical exercises. And there are accessible toilets!

Yesterday I went on another visit to the Chinese quarter which our guide insisted was not Chinese, but Asian, including people from Laos, Vietnam,and Cambodia as well. It is in the triangle of Choisy, so called because it is bordered on “ sides by the Avenue de Choisy, the Avenue d’Ivray and the Boulevard Kellerman, in the 13th.arrondissemet.

There are 40,000 Asians in Paris and 450,000 in France. (Compare that , allowing for the increase in population that 100 years would make,with a figure I was recently given, that in Montmartre during the Annees Folles, there were 25,000 US people living here.) They work mainly in the car industry, restaurants, (there are 3,000 Asian restaurants in Paris!) information technology, jewellery, jade, and the travel industry.

Jade is found in rock, and to reach the jade you have to wash away many impurities. Also, jade is found in many colours, the rarest (and most expensive) is black. The Asians are extremely good at business and entrepreneurship and are very resourceful. We passed the catholic church of St. Hippolyte, (Av.Choisy) which celebrates mass in Mandarin, and the nearby Macdonalds restaurant not only employs a lot of Asians but also has the menu in Mandarin.

The 13th arrondissement is a very young community. The children have the old Confucian ideas of respect for their elders, and they have an extremely good ear – after all, Mandarin has five (in Britain we are taught 4!) intonations and Cantonese nine! And there are 300,000 characters! But although young children pick up French quickly, it seems to get increasingly harder with age. There is one well-known (and expensive) Chinese restaurant where the avenues of Choisy and Ivry cross where the owner cannot speak French.

Claude Marti, our guide, thinks that the Asian population will gradually move towards Belleville. Because of the Confucian idea of reverence for ancestors many people are baptised with the ancestors’ name, one example is the ‘freres Tang.’, a sprawling shop. They make some ritual cake/bread, which is cut into 108 slices, one for every Buddha. The reason why Carrefour (a leading chain of French stores) does so well in China is because the way the word is pronounced in Chinese makes it sounds like ‘family well-being’.

Musee Dapper – 6.2.06 - Musee Dapper - 35bis, rue Paul Valery - Metro Etoile : Tel. 01 45 00 91 75.

This is quite far from the centre of Paris, I find that people are more friendly further away you get from the centre, but that, of course is a sweeping generalisation and quite untrue – but the more people there are, the less time one has to be friendly. Often people in London are utterly engrossed by their portable ‘phones or their Walkmen(?). Thankfully I don’t find that in Paris, where human contact is still obligatory in etiquette - although just about everyone uses a portable.

Anyway, Back to the Dapper Museum. There was an exhibition on the African heritage of Brazil. . I found the Musee Dapper really nice, quite small and wheelchair friendly, (very good toilet facilities) nice architecture. – the lighting wasn’t all that good, but very few places really splash out on lighting like Melbourne Art Museum.

Brazil was discovered in 1500 by a Portuguese, Pedro Alvarez Cabral Between the 17 and 19 centuries 4 million slaves from Africa arrived, mainly from Nigeria, Benin and the Congo. That was an enormous number in those days. They were employed in the culture of sugar cane; tobacco, cotton, coffee and in mineral extraction. The Portuguese brought Catholicism with them. But the slaves, while keeping some aspects of Catholicism, such as Notre Dame de Rosaires. The Yoruba tribe, from Nigeria/Benin, seem to have been either the most populous or most powerful. The gods of war were called Eshu or Exu,Gu, and Ogun or Ogam. The god of thunder was Xango or Shango. Nkosi was the god of war and metal. Spirits were usually called Inquince, as that was the nearest in pronunciation to nkisi. Nkisi were usually depicted bristling with nails, which were placed there by the nganga, or penitent. The nkisi nkondi was the most powerful spirit, and chased way evil. So I got the impression (I’m probably wrong) that in Brazil spirits were good on the whole, whereas in Haiti and Louisiana voodoo, or black magic is practised.

One of the most powerful of the kings of Yoruba, Glele,(who dealt in the slave trade) was under the protection of Gu, the god of war. There were also voduns, ( minor deities?) who kept back the forces of the wind, water, fire and thunder. [A lot of the grand ‘hotels particuliers’ in Paris have carvings of mythical figures representing the four elements.] Glele was also under the protection of Lisa. The two top voduns were Lisa, who represented the male being and Mawu, the female. The voduns repulsed the forces of the wind, fire, water and thunder. Bacios were intermediaries used by the priests, depicted by wooden sculptures and placed outside houses. Shango, the god of thunder, was depicted as having a double-edged hatchet on his head.

At least four of the best known modern Brazilian artists had works in the museum, depicting Exu or symbolising aspects of this rich cultural past. Chico Augusto depicted Exu, god of war, as having cloven feet in 1953. (akin to Satan?), Rubem Valentin, 1922-91, O MolièreJorge dos Anjos, 1953, Marco Tulio Resende, 1950.

The music of the candomble was rhythmic, each spirit having their own particular rhythm.
Eguns were spirits linked to the dead. Yemanja, whose name was ‘mother of fish’ was the goddess of the seas, in Brawil, and Oxam was the fresh water goddess. There were 3 main black saints; Benoit l’Africain, Sainte Iphigénie and St Balthazar, one of the three magi. Notre Dame de Rosaires was also worshipped, and introduced by the Portuguese into the Bantu culture.

On the Wed. I met a friend for lunch behind the gardens of the Palais Royal, at La Table d’hote du palais royal – quite a big mouthful. It is good home cooking, But the owner does tend to be a bit ‘distraite’ when she is busy. I went shopping first. It is a lovely area to wander round in.

I found a very ordinary café – but it had a level toilet! (They’re like gold dust in this area!) It is called Lucky, and is on the corner of the rue St. Anne nd the rue Therese. At the angle of the rue Moliere with the rue Richelieu there is a statue (fountain?) of Moliere. (That restaurant also has a toilet on the ground floor.) After lunch we went to see the Bonnard exhibition.

Musée de Art Moderne, 11 av.de President Wilson, Tel. 01 53 67 40 00. Bonnard lived from 1867-1947. From 1887- ’90, and knew Monet and Vuillard. There were 157 paintings, still lifes, everyday scenes, countryside and a series of self portraits dating from 1904-1947. You can see him as a young, black haired man, then lighter brown/chestnut (I suspect the use of hair colour) to nearly bald shortly before his death.

The official pamphlet divides the paintings into 5 groups, nudes, still lifes, In 1906 Misia Sert commissioned him to do four large paintings, which had a border of monkeys, magpies and interlaced pearls (For an absent-minded moment I read ‘feet’ instead of magpies!)

From 1908 for the next 16 years seems to have been an animal phase. Bonnard did a well-known series of a table covered with a reed and white checked tablecloth, and always a dog is eyeing the spread but the painting I liked best was the still life with the cat, painted in 1924.

SW France - 2003

The best three things about Aire-sur-l'Adour (about 50 miles south of Bordeaux) were:- its municipal camp-site, which earlier last year had become privately owned and was extremely well managed, with excellent provision for the disabled; the good restaurants in Aire and round about, and the wonderful cycle tracks which abound in the region.

Our first outing was by bicycle, on minor roads along the river valley to Grenade, where we had lunch in a lovely restaurant overlooking the river, with lots of weeping willows and large umbrellas at the tables. Last year it must have been a Saturday that we went, because we sat outside, above the river, and the terrasse was full of people and lively, whereas this year there was one other middle-aged couple, we were in the dining room with them, they talked in whispers and did not respond to any of Chris' cheery 'Bonjour m'sieu, 'dame' or 'bon appetit, m'sieu' 'dame'. This is so unusual for southern France that we concluded that they must be Parisians - or tourists!

Anyway, it was a delicious meal, but the atmosphere was not really congenial. The other really good relais et chateaux we went to was Herve Garrapit at Villeneuve-de-Marsan, we found him delightful. He pays a moving tribute yo his father on the menu. Both of these restaurants had Michelin stars. One of the reasons why we enjoyed them so much was that each of them was after a 3-hr cycle ride, so we were in need of sustenance. There is a wonderful, broad cycle track running through the trees from Mont-de-Marsan to Villeneuve/Lot.

One day we drove to Eauze to see the market, it is certainly a very large one, I bought some clothes, on the way back we passed the Relais d'Armagnac which Miles Morland author of 'a banker who gave up his job, and went to walk in France with his wife' said had gone bankrupt. It looked pretty shut up, but there was a motor-cycle outside, so Chris found the chef in the kitchen, who said he would open specially for us at noon the next day. We were on our bikes, and did not arrive till 1.30, which must have annoyed them, but the wife, who served us, was charming, and the food was very good - or maybe, having cycled there, we were extra hungry! They stock a lot of wine by Alain Faget, which we enjoyed, especially the rose. I don't think it travels well, because it didn't taste as good here!

On our last night we went to a local logis, which also served good food, including a marvellous poele de foie gras which I had! The taste of cooked foie gras is out of this world!

The people in the camp site were very friendly. There were some mobilettes (rented small houses on wheels. We were invited in for an aperitif by a friendly couple with a very large Alsation dog which they kept tied up outside. It was quite friendly towards people though it did not like other dogs. He was a cabinet maker, and lived in Perigueux, but had a 2-week contract to come and work in a school, repairing some other mistakes that another workman had made, doors not hanging straight or angles of objects not being true. They were a very social couple, most evenings they would friends round to talk, and at weekends they would disappear totally - back to Perigueux.

And we really hit it off with another couple, he was a retired teacher of maths and religion from a private school. They were a delightful couple, so interesting. They came every year to take the waters at Eugenie-les-bains. He kept fit active and busy. Amongst other things, such as being a keen cyclist, he took part in the humanitarian project NSB in central Africa, which aided the communities' diet by farming fish.

Numimbah Valley

Numimbah Valley Adventure Trails, Australia - February, 2005.

I decided to go horse-riding for exercise, adventure, and because I would see more of the country. The owner was an absolute star, very caring about the community. As well as running a 2,500 acre cattle ranch. he ran the adventure trails, and had two other money making projects, gravel and organic gardening. He also plans a kind of rain forest education teaching centre. He also looks after about 14 children who are really wild, no social graces, and succeeds in making them acceptable to other people. He is a volunteer fireman too.. And he gave a running commentary of landmarks we passed on the way, I'm sorry I can't reproduce his sense of humour.. My sense of direction is lousy, but I think Numinbah Valley was south west of Southport.

Numinbah Valley Horse Riding

On the left are some photos I took while at “smoky”, a welcome tea-break, where billy tea and damper revive you.

On the way we passed a park, or place with trees,. called Cascade Gardens, where aborigines used to hang out, but where there now is a largish colony of fruit bats. Then the casino, there seems to be quite a lot of gambling in Australia, every large city had a casino, which all seemed to be popular. (The Worker's Club, in Southport, which did such a good range of incredibly cheap food, apparently subsidises its food by a roomful of one-armed bandits, or 'pokies' as the Australians call them. That was how Hope Island Tavern up in Sanctuary Cove was able to provide free live music) Then Pacific Fair, which had grown from a supermarket into a 'whopper shopper' in which it's easy to get lost. Then Ravina, which is built on what used to be swamp land, although the council say that there is no longer any danger of floods, past the Carerra Markets where you can buy back what you had lost the week before! There are at least three golf courses on the way to Numinbah, and a pony club, at Mudgereeba. Along Warrongarry and Gilston Roads, (there is a curious mix of wonderfully descriptive Aboriginal names with much duller British names. Numinbah [or it might be Yowgurribah, which is the name of the horse-riding part] comes from an Aboriginal word meaning something like 'enclosed valley guarded by high hills'

We passed the Hinze Dam, which supplies the water for the whole of the Gold Coast (pop 500,000 and rising) which is enormous, backing into numerous valleys.. As you drive past it you can see the lanes marked out for rowing practice - fishing and canoodlin' are allowed, but not swimming. There are bass and perch in the dam. All this area is thickly wooded, and the National Park fences in land owned by them, does not clear the undergrowth, and does not go in for 'controlled burning' which encourages trees to propagate. As a result, when there is a fire it is fiercer, more violent, and more difficult and dangerous to control. It is horrendous hearing koalas screaming in terror when they are stuck at the top of a burning tree, or kangaroos and wallabies on fire, rushing through the flames, trying to get away.
Both the Green Party and the National Park have been called, and neither of them has come to help.

Numinbah town lies at the entrance to the valley, consisting of about 50-100 houses. There is a business marketing wild flowers, which is called Numinbah Natives - at first I thought it was a compound for aboriginals! The local school has 15 children. There are cattle, horse and deer, kangaroos, wallbies and birds in the valley; although this is the beginning of the Outback, people still outnumber kangaroos. The local town hall is called the School of Arts, an odd name! There are wonderful bird calls in the valley, particularly the Whip bird, which really does make the sound of a whip lash - rather disturbing as there is a prison next door to the farm. It is a 'safe' farm, one hears the prisoners being called for tea, for telephone calls, and some of the noisier occupations like mustering the cattle. The riding was all I could have wished for, (except that I still find the trotting bumpy, but with practice, who knows…?) I was given 6 photos, made into a poster, as a memento. The scenery is terrific. Grass, wild flowers, rainforest trees, Egg Rock and a table plateau all around. Roughly halfway into the ride we dismounted and had a rest by the enchanting Nerang Creek, where turtles swim. We brewed up some billy tea and ate damper. We had forded the creek on the way, which was quite exciting!

That same Nerang Creek flows into the Hinze Dam, and we crossed it again in Surfer's Paradise, (which is also known to the locals as 'suffering parasite'), where it is a wide river. I really highly recommend the Numinbah Valley Adventure Trails, the people who run it are friendly and interested in their guests, there are people of all ages, horses and dogs milling around, and you have a truly memorable experience.
Tel. 07 5533 4137.

A real Aussie country wedding - 19.11.05

Kimberley Anne Hinde married David Peter Brendan Lyons at Venus Pools and the reception was held afterwards at Fig Tree Flat on the Lyons estate at Yowgurribah in Numinbah valley.

BYO camping. Dress informal. Kim looked gorgeous, a bouffant ground length dress, exquisite pearl ear-rings, necklace and tiara; and David looked smart in burgundy and black (and very wild-Western and romantic), in his Stetson and ¾ length jacket.

Venus Pools was a beautiful setting, peaceful and natural, still pools, a pebbly; shallow bit for children (and there were quite a lot ) to play. It was a very short ceremony, with the couple each reading out their own vows. Then milling around and talking, then there was a wood-chopping contest. A large camphorwood log was set up, two 6-ft. long two-handled saws were produced and contests were held to determine which of two couples were fastest. There was a contingent of 6 Japanese girls so there was the unusual scene of 2 ‘traditional’ style Japanese girls sawing against 2 more, Then there was the bride and groom, the 2 best men, (well, one and an usher), the 2 young flower girls and the father/young daughter versus mother/young son pair. There was also to be a gum-boot throwing contest, but it got too dark, so we all went to the marquis on Fig Tree Flat, where we had a meal and some wedding cake decorated like a Friesian cow. Music was provided by a ‘-piece and called ‘Tartan About’, guitars and fiddles, and the muic had a distinctly Irish sound to it, though they did play the ‘Gay Gordons’. I wouldn’t let Jon and Acushla drive me back until I’d had a dance with the groom.

Sydney, Mittagong and Melbourne

Second part of April, “06.

I saw Martin and Michiko, went for a swim three times indoors with 3 pools And we ate out every evening! Sel et Poivre, Marque, Paua, Giardinetto, Country Comfort hotel and Manta.

At the weekend Derek came down from Brisbane, where he has been overseeing the renovations and repairs of the club, which still hasn’t got a name.

We went out to Mittagong for the classic jazz and ragtime festival, run by John Buchanan. There were about 500 people there. Jason Downes, the brilliant clarinetist who was with Allan Beechey’s band for a year or two in London, was there, playing wonderful music with Michael McQuaid Carol Ralph was also there, she has a wonderfully deep, strong voice – unusual in a female singer. There were far too many artists to mention them all, (besides, I’ve lost the programme): Geoff Powers (reeds), Dan Barnett (trombone) Stephen Grant and Ben Johnston (piano). The washboard was played, which was not a patch on Gerard Bagot in Paris Washboard but was tremendously popular.

Then I went to Melbourne, spending a few days in the centre of the city, where I stayed at the Duxton again which has now changed its name to the Rendezvous. I discovered the international cake shop (185 Lonsdale Street), which had all sorts of luscious sweetmeats on display. Mindful of my weight I chose ‘tyropita’, a kind of cheese tart. I also went up to the markets, which were quite incredible, about 4-5000 stalls in a covered concrete shed. I got a 15AD watch there, and restrained myself from buying more. On the way up the hill I passed Flagpole Park, lovely by day but frequented by undesirable characters at night. Apparently there is a station underneath it, or maybe it is underneath the market, and an ancient cemetery is under Flagpole park. On the way back passed an excellent little café, run by a lady from Babylon, called Zanzibar (360 LaTrobe Street). Also, I went to Cicciolina at 130 Acland Street. (I had spotted a recommendation for it in the Virgin Blue magazine. It is marvellous, a crowded Italian restaurant with excellent food, very unpretentious. Then I moved to the south of the city for Bob Barnard’s jazz party. The hotel had a heated, outdoor swimming pool which was heavenly I really enjoyed the jazz, again, too many too mention everyone, but Don Burrows, who apparently is ‘a living legend in Australia” was there He is a marvelous reeds player, has bad arthritis and so is learning the trombone. Then there was also Mike McQuaid and Steven Stribling and Dave Gardner on reeds, and I nearly forgot Jo Stevenson, Dan Barnett and Dan Barrett (who played some hauntingly sweet melodies, including ‘whispering grass’ which was made famous by the Ink Spots) on trombone, John Surry and Andy Gaylor on guitar. Stephen Grant and 3 other pianists, one of whom is emigrating to Ireland soon, to be married, Australia’s loss indeed. And of course Danny Moss senior (saxophone), his perceptive son of the same name, (bass) and wife/jazz singer, Jeannie Lambe.

Brisbane

Brisbane
Port of Brisbane - it was a fine day so I went out to the Port of Brisbane.   Actually,  had gone because it had appeared in a wee booklet entitled “Fine Dining”.   It wasn’t, I did not think much of the food, but here was a chance to see some birds, go for a pleasant walk around and there was an extremely interesting tour of the port.  It is all built on reclaimed land.  There are currently about 1600 employees, in the next 7 years or so that number is expected to rise to 6-8 thousand!  About 30% of the work force are women. There are a lot of single people, and creche, bank, cinema and no doubt a restaurant/cafe are planned.   It is pretty fully operated by electronic robots;  moving these huge, heavy containers around would have taken 2 burly men the best part of a day – the robots can do the same task in minutes and they are extremely sensitive, they can detect a human footfall in the vicinity, which will make them stop what they are doing which will doubtless set off alarms.   All the containers are thoroughly x-rayed, which makes the work of customs easier.   They did catch one man smuggling antique chairs in as garden chairs – and they also found one bird on the under-side of a container. 

Speaking of birds, they have set aside 12 hectares as a sanctuary for nesting birds, called the ‘shore roost’.

ANOTHER SUCKER
2 years in the life of a jazz-club owner.

Annie Sinclair.
1 The Quickest way to make a million is to start with two million!'

This is my version of recent events, other people may have other versions. For legal reasons, real names have not been used. I sprained my ankle badly so went to stay with my friend on the Gold Coast. I went on a jazz cruise, fabulous idea, but poorly attended. [Why didn't I hear any warning bells?] I met the organiser, Basil, who seemed nice enough. I had turned up without any money, only a credit card and I was moving to Sydney the next day! However, Basil very kindly agreed that I could send the entrance fee on to him by post, including an extra $20 spending money.

He mentioned during the evening that he had done some market research which indicated that Brisbane could support a jazz club Actually, it already had one, but he tended to discount the Brisbane Jazz Club because it was run by amateurs. So that was my first big mistake, believing him, thinking that because he was trusting me, I should trust him too. He was a really good talker, and easily convinced me of the fact that he had conducted surveys and carried out plans. I was so excited and delighted at the prospect of owning a jazz club - and, truth be told, that someone seemed willing to be friendly with a wheelchair user, that I tended to sweep any small suspicions to the back of my mind - like the fact that he didn't put up any of the money, only ideas. [what an idiot I was.!

I suppose my excuse was my idealism, which leads ultimately to the whole structure of society, or maybe just the school curriculum - should ideals be lauded? (the ancient Greeks, the Olympics) at any rate business should be taught as well. Also, the organiser of a festival in Britain said that "where jazz is concerned one is ruled by the heart, not the head." We talked quite often on telephone, and by email and quickly agreed to start a jazz club.

We would be co-owners, with me putting up the money and my contacts with international artists, and him putting up the ideas, the PR, the marketing and the musicians. Although I knew that I did not have nearly enough capital to start such a venture in Britain or France, which would have been my preferred locations, Basil thought that he could get it done and still have a little left, which, with the money we would be earning, (he had drawn up documents showing future earnings) should be enough to start us off.

He did not provide a business plan. I returned to Britain ecstatically happy, having arranged that Basil should come to Scotland in August and, as well as seeing a bit of Scotland, come to the Nairn festival and meet people, particularly these international musicians, many of whom I knew already - because I went to several festivals round the world and would repeatedly meet them.

Nairn was one of my favourites, partly because it was so near my home region in Scotland; which led me to the thought of how useful it would be for Basil to meet and hear them. I knew the organisers of that festival, who were most suspicious of Basil, although I was quite convinced of his honesty (apparent in his day-to-day personal dealings!) and would not entertain the notion that he was conning me. But I am indebted to Edna and Willie because I was going to split the club 50/50 with Basil, and following their advice we made it 60/40 (which made it possible for me later to terminate Basil's employment).

I was a bit surprised that he didn't pay for his own room while in Scotland, but my British reserve held me back from asking probing questions and possibly encroaching on painful memories (because by then he had told me that he had been living with a girl for 12 years before she left him; that he used to drink but no longer drank at all, and that he had had some kind of trouble with his credit card and now the bank would no longer issue him with a credit card. So I had put 2 + 2 together and come up with what was probably 5 - a story of how Basil, becoming an alcoholic, abusing his credit card to the extent that the banks withdrew it, (he did keep making me think that he would get back his credit rating soon. and his girlfriend finally walking out on him in disgust.

Apparently he had lost quite a lot of weight. He certainly had an extremely poor diet - almost entirely coke, chocolates and cigarettes - except when I bought him meals. I had two small misgivings: he once got very annoyed with me in the car, flaring up over nothing and calling me a back seat driver (which I am not). I put this behaviour down to the sress of driving in a strange country, late at night with no certainty of a bed at the journey’s end [I had forgotten to book ahead]); and my cousins gave us a box of chocolates at the start of the journey, which he refused to eat the next day because they had been opened the day before so germs had got on them!

At the end of his holiday he used his silver tongue again to say how impressed he was by my good qualities. I stayed on in Scotland for jazz, while he returned to Brisbane, to carry on with his job while looking for a suitable venue. [I heard much later from several sources that he was out to rip me off for as much money as he could and that the money I was paying him was being used to enrich his other business. I gave him a list of criteria; first and foremost was accessibility.

I returned to Australia again in October '05. Basil played his cards skillfully, showing me what was on the market (very little) before showing me what became Milton Dome. My immediate reaction was that it was far too big with 3 levels!!! But Basil was sold by the 'skylight room', as it came to be called, and talked me round. I was also immediately struck by its possibilities, so I was probably easily brought round. Apparently the venue had been some sort of night club several times before, (my inexperience showed, as no warning bells clanged - why hadn't they succeeded?) but they had always been illegal (no-one had raised any objection. which augured well.)

We determined to do it all legally. In retrospect, I don't know whether that was a good idea or not, probably it was, because we didn't have the fear of enormous fines hanging over our heads, but I do remember the long delays - and the expense! The worst delay was waiting for the permission of the body corporate for the change of use of the building, because Christmas intervened and everyone disappeared on their holidays. I was beginning to get worried about my miserably small fortune running out, but Basil assured me that there was still plenty left.

I was grossly overpaying Basil, but he was a good talker, and the fact that we were doing everything legally was reassuring. And owning a jazz club seemed so marvellous that I thought it was probably worth the expense, because I was a bit flattered that anyone would consider throwing in with a wheelchair user. At first it didn't seem too bad, Basil had hired an assistant manager, JR-san, and all 3 of us were working, me wrapping glasses left by the previous owner about 2 years earlier. and the other two unsticking cardboard from the floor and ripping out old booths etc. It was a bit more like the image I had in my mind, of owners starting up a business from scratch, doing as much as possible themselves to save money.

There was a long battle about whether or not we should keep the green room for the musicians' convenience, and eventually I gave in, so that we would be able to fit in more customers. (That was over-optimistic - in our 2 years of existence we only needed the extra space less than half-a-dozen times.) There was also a long battle about whether or not to put in a dance floor, I won that one, and that decision has been completely vindicated. (If only I had been as firm with other things.) Anyway, even I had to agree that we needed qualified workmen - the place really had been pretty comprehensively gutted.

We had already started getting quotes in when Basil went to a family reunion, and met one of his relatives who seemed confident of getting everything done for the money available. I thought this seemed an excellent idea. and the man seemed calm and unflappable, which proved to be admirable qualities as 'the opening night' approached. I thought it best, given my instability, not to go in to the club too much, as everyone knows how dangerous building sites are. However, the first time I did go in, the workmen, after establishing who I was, were obviously not used to a strange woman staggering about, and were watching me with concern. So although I left sooner than I'd intended so that the workmen could get on with their work, I nearly changed my mind when Basil told me the same thing. "Don't teach your grandmother to suck eggs.' was my angry reaction. But I tried to stay away, (see my blog, 'www.travelsandjazz.co.uk') going horse-riding, walking about (not too much or too often because of the heat, and my fair skin) and going to restaurants and any jazz I could find.

I liked the Brisbane Jazz Club, it had a fantastic setting by the river, it used be a boat shed and its sloping floor appealed to the streak of eccentricity in me. (they had demonstrations of terrific swing dancing there, which must have been interesting on the sloping floor). While I was away from the club, there was nearly a strike, or a murder! One day the workmen approached JR-san and said that no-one would do any more work unless Basil left the building, and that if he didn't, they would throw him over the balcony!

The opening night was postponed twice but finally everything was finished. The opening night was the beginning of the end for Basil, (although I did not realise it at the time). This so-called marketing expert, who had been worrying about the quantity of press invited for weeks before-hand, had not asked them! (I should have realized that they had never been invited, with 2 postponements.) So there we were, with this fabulous club, Bob Barnard, one of Australia's best-known musicians up for the opening night, and practically no-one knew it.! And for the next six months, while Basil remained the manager it continued much like that.

People who came found it wonderful, but news had not got out to the general public. We were making a loss of about Aus$40,000 per month! By that time my husband was supporting me financially, as all my savings had gone. Every three months, because of the immigration laws, I had to leave the country, which seems a bit unfair now, after all the money I've paid to Australian businesses and jobs I've provided. This gave me the excuse to go on visiting jazz festivals, although I realize now that I should not have made my absences so long.

I was back in Britain, with a full programme of jazz festivals to attend, when my husband, who is an extremely experienced business manager, said that I had to return to Australia and try and get a proper business plan out of Basil, and to replace him as manager. I failed on both counts, Basil talked and I procrastinated, he said the poor figures were commensurate with the winter months in the hospitality business everyone, even people back in the UK, were telling me that.

One of the good things Basil did was back in July when he had hired an extremely able, efficient and organised PA. She finally got fed up of not being given a set of keys, so that she had to hang around outside the front door until Basil arrived. She was able to send my husband reports, but unfortunately she left in August just after I arrived. She had finally got fed up of her working conditions. One evening the dishwasher did not turn up, and this, together with the poor working conditions, culminated in the cook walking out after a heated exchange of words with Basil, who, determined to have the last word, went running after him to tell him that he was being fired!

Afer hiring a temporary chef, one came who seemed like the answer to our prayers. 'Superman' certainly knew how to cook, making some delicious dishes, including his own ice-cream and bread –warm chocolate bread, straight out of the oven, with melting butter – mmmm! He did not get on well with Basil, strongly resenting his over-interference - he often used to threaten him with the meat cleaver. He also had quite a strong personality, liked coming to the bar and chatting to the customers, and was 'vague' about his past, which seemed to have been eventful, working in Europe and Melbourne, he was trying to stay one jump ahead of the wife support system.

He had supposedly had an affair with Superwoman, the extremely capable head waitress and unfortunately had a very crude way of speaking to the other waitresses, (and I think may have helped the departure of 2 or 3). He soon recruited an assistant chef, a pleasant, placid and dependable young man. There was nearly always a problem with the air-conditioning. There was none at all in the kitchen, which had a corrugated iron roof so it got extremely hot. The body corporate was adamant that there was no timer in place, yet at the weekend, when all the office workers had gone – so had the air-con! JR-san contacted the firm, who spent ages crawling around in the roof-space trying to locate the fault getting dirty, dust and hot – to no avail. We finally installed a split system in the skylight room, but in retrospect we should have closed the skylight room and installed the air- con in the restaurant.

I went to the USA for some jazz, and while I as there a sixth sense told me that I should go back. So I did, to be met by the assistant manager who informed me that 3 of the key members of staff had said they would leave unless Basil resigned. So I had no option but to fire him. and by 6th. December Basil had gone. Atfer that the jazz club finally began to be fun.

In the first week after Basil had left we heard 2 really funny stories. One had happened 7 or 8 months previously, when renovation work had been going on. A skip was parked at the back for the rubbish. One day Basil had found a plastic bag full of hair cuttings and so had stalked round to the nearby hairdresser's, demanded to see the manager and, producing the evidence, sternly requested that they refrain from using HIS skip for THEIR rubbish. (at the same time as losing prospective customers and their goodwill).

We also were told that the media were on the point of blacklisting the club. When they heard that Basil had left the director suggested that they celebrate by opening a bottle of champagne!

We immediately re-hired two of the staff, one of whom, Superwoman, was with us to the end and proved invaluable. In one of my many absences Basil had hired an IT manager. He was hampered by a lack of funds, we had never really recovered from that bad start. But he managed to do really well, and in the traditionally low period of the hospitality trade, (after Christmas) our takings went up by $2,000 per week for the first six weeks of the year.

The IT manager, Baby Blue, got our venue into all the free gig publications, as well as several of the more prestigious newspapers and magazines. We slowly began to get our name known, but we never recovered from missing that press evening/media launch at the opening. But between Baby Blue and JR-san we were definitely beginning to do better. JR-san worked very hard and did have some brilliant ideas – like moving the dining area downstairs. This not only made it much easier for the wait staff, but people began to come for the dining experience alone - with a small group or duo or trio playing it was very enjoyable. Both JR-san and Superwoman, were extremely hard-working and capable. He was responsible for moving her into the office, where she took over the role of functions manager. Because they spent so much time together, and were both eager to see the club succeed, he almost had an affair with her, which led to the break-up of his long-standing relationship, which was a real tragedy. Superman said quite emphatically and repeatedly that he would not leave, then suddenly he gave us a week's notice.

Luckily Superwoman came up with a marvel, who had lots of brilliant points. He was very enthusiastic about everything, be it presentation, flavours, odours - he had one marvellous trick. just before people would arrive for their evening meal, he would wander round the dining-room waving a frying pan of rosemary and garlic, to whet their appetite! His Moroccan chicken and apricot medallions were tasty! Unfortunately he drank to excess (not on the job), and would get had up for speeding. He was an accomplished musician, and quite often, when his cooking duties were finished, would join in with the band, either on saxophone or flute.

He overlapped with a talented waitress who also played the flute marvellously - in fact, I had seen her play at the Brisbane Jazz Club before she even joined our staff. She was also an accomplished singer, with a very pleasant voice. I remember in particular one Sunday afternoon, when both Samsax and Happy joined in with the Jazz Generation Trio, improvising and imitating each other brilliantly. The joy of that afternoon is what I always wanted for Maggie Blacks.

Several people left without giving us notice. Funny phenomenon, in the hospitality business, the lower in rank that people are, the more concerned they are about being reliable workers. But we had one chef, one cook and two night-managers who left without notice, or very little. We also had a chef and a night-manager who were prone to drink - and the manager was caught for speeding! The worst thing was that all these people who left had all sworn to me that they would not leave and they loved working here. And then bang!

I would like to pay tribute here to one particular class of people, the dishwashers. Of course more and more businesses are getting dishwashing machines, although we did have one, the kitchen was too small to fit a large enough one, (even if we could have afforded it). Ab stayed a long time, and when he left a group of Nepalese helped us enormously.

That summer, 2007, we let the room out to a group of salsa dancers; lovely nubile smooth-skinned young girls with fishnet stockings, flounces and plumed head-dresses. The evening went well, but we never had any repeat requests. In Feb.2007 the building was put up for sale. Over a million dollars! I put in a bid, but it was too low. So the building was sold. However, the new landlord did not take over till Dec, and as the club was doing better we did not make any provisions, and it was 'out of a cloudless 7 sky' that we received an e-mail giving us options.

At first we thought we could stay on one level, but that would mean stopping our business for seven or eight months while construction was carried out, which was not on. So we thought we would have to leave, and there were various surveyors etc. coming round the building at different times, which was all unsettling. So I came out of it having to pay over $34,000 for breaking the lease (which the landlord himself had hastened.) In hindsight, we reacted too quickly to things.

Also, Christmas was a bad time to close, one never gets much in auctions and closing down sales, so we decided to sell privately, but people only bought drips and drabs and we ended up selling things even cheaper to get rid of them - then someone called Lucky? bought everything.. the trouble was, he didn't pay! I am still waiting.

The Chamber of Commerce has a magnificent mosaic ceiling. Then we passed the cathedral, and its Necropolis (graveyard) The author of 'Wee Willie Winkie' is buried here, as is the Queen of the Gypsies, in a grave marked 1901.

Past the Barrows and the Peoples' Palace , looking over the fountain, and a carpet factory which is now a business centre. In 1740 St. Andrews-on-the-Green was built, which is known as the' whistlin' kirk'. The Gorbals derived its name from the the Goory Balls, a leper colony. Then Paddy's Market, followed by the Italia quarter, where the Trade Arms was built by Adams.

The Horseshoe Bar, in Drury Street, is decorated with Venetian gold and (I missed what else). Central station is built on a straddling a street, and is called the Highlanders' Umbrella. This is because, following the defeat of the Scots, men could make their way there, and be fairly sure of finding members of his own or neighbouring clans. Each clan had 'their' doorway where they sheltered.

In the 19th. Century there were 62 shipyards, now there are only 9. There is a tall ship, a heliport and a building called the Armadillo housing the SECC and Science . The rotunda, nearby, houses the casino and a restaurant. Then we came to Glasgow University, and
Kelvin Grove Park, where the Great Exhibition of 1891 was held. Then the Hunterian museum.

There is a large percentage of Gaelic speakers in Glasgow. The name Sauchiehall Street (one of the best-known streets of Glasgow) came from ancient words meaning 'The Meadow of the River Trees'.

Then Derek and I set off northwards, passing through Renton at the foot of Loch Lomond, and from there up to Aviemore (via Inverness!) because Scotland in the summer is so crowded and stupidly I hadn't booked, but Derek was willing to drive. The down side was that we drove along Loch Ness in the dark! We stayed at Aviemore, then drove on to Dornoch, where there is a very fine golf course, every bit as good as St. Andrews. From Dornoch we made two day-excursions, the scenery is just magnificent, and the weather was beautiful, mountains, forests, streams and waterfalls, mist and a ruined castle, rocks and sea. The cathedral in Dornoch is wonderful, 13th century, beautifully carved, compact and extremely well kept. Dornoch even has one 'good' restaurant, 2 Quail, Castle Street, Dornoch. It also has rooms to let.

Sutherland, IV25. 01802 811 811 - fairly expensive but not by London prices. About £35 a head. I was particularly struck by how friendly and pleasant everyone was, and also it was nice to see so many young foreigners working in Scottish hotels for the summer - particularly from Poland.

Then back to Aviemore, I had more family nearby, and Derek went up Cairngorm. Then on the way to Nairn for the jazz festival, which was the real reason for Derek's visit, we saw round Cawdor Castle, extensive grounds and a dungeon. After the festival we drove to Aberdeen, stayed at a very reasonably priced hotel in Dyce, (by the airport), the Skean Dhu hotel (£50) (a skean dhu is the dirk that men in full Highland regalia wear in their socks). We drove into Aberdeen to let Derek glimpse that lovely city, dropped my luggage then headed out to the airport where he flew off.

I spent two more days in Aberdeen, I have relatives there too, and one lovely day we had tea outside at a tearoom which does heavenly 'pieces' or 'cakes'. The Falls of Feugh Tea Rooms and Restaurant Banchory, Kincardineshire. They do cater for evening meals, on some days only.

I had forgotten how many handsome buildings there were in Aberdeen, which is where I spent considerable periods of time during my childhood - such as Marishall College. In my youth it formed the main part of the university,. And during Charities week students used to hang various articles of clothing from one of its myriad spires. Now it stands empty. It was going to be a hotel, this year I heard it is now going to be developed for offices. I hope it isn't going to be left alone for too long. I'd also forgotten the number of churches there were.

Then Edinburgh, where I stayed in the Caledonian (where I had my wedding reception)) then the Malmaison (cheaper, but far too far away to be convenient for the Fringe) and the George cheaper still, a very good location, but I loved the olde-world style and grandeur of the Caledonian Hilton. I saw more cousins, and some friends. I also saw some parts of Edinburgh which I had not seen before - like the enchantingly pretty High School Wynd which leads into the Cowgate. And at least 6 swans on the loch at the foot of Arthur's Seat. I also went to more jazz venues tham I had been to before.

Scotland. 2005-08-26

Glasgow, where we had a family dinner and went on a bus tour round Glasgow. I found that really interesting, however my notes are incomplete because not only am I a painfully slow writer, but the bus was incredibly jolty as well.

The tour starts in George Square, where there is a Doric column, on the top of which is a statue to Sir Walter Scott. It should have been George III, but it was towards the end of the eighteenth century, and George III had just lost the war with America. There is a mistake in the statue – Sir Walter is wearing his plaid over his left shoulder, instead of his right.

The Chamber of Commerce has a magnificent mosaic ceiling. Then we passed the cathedral, and its Necropolis (graveyard) The author of ‘Wee Willie Winkie’ is buried here, as is the Queen of the Gypsies, in a grave marked 1901. Past the Barrows and the Peoples’ Palace , looking over the fountain, and a carpet factory which is now a business centre.

In 1740 St. Andrews–on-the-Green was built, which is known as the’ whistlin’ kirk’. The Gorbals derived its name from the the Goory Balls, a leper colony. .Then Paddy’s Market, followed by the Italia quarter, where the Trade Arms was built by Adams. The Horseshoe Bar, in Drury Street, is decorated with Venetian gold and (I missed what else).

Central station is built straddling a street, and is called the Highlanders’ Umbrella. This is because, following the defeat of the Scots, men could make their way there, and be fairly sure of finding members of his own or neighbouring clans. Each clan had ’their’ doorway where they sheltered.

In the19th. Century there were 62 shipyards, now there are only 9. There is a tall ship, a heliport and a building called the Armadillo housing the SECC and Science . The rotunda, nearby, houses the casino and a restaurant. Then we came to Glasgow University, and Kelvin Grove Park, where the Great Exhibition of 1891 was held. Then the Hunterian museum.

There is a large percentage of Gaelic speakers in Glasgow. The name Sauchiehall Street (one of the best-known streets of Glasgow) came from ancient words meaning ‘The Meadow of the River Trees’.

Then Derek and I set off northwards, passing through Renton at the foot of Loch Lomond, and from there up to Aviemore (via Inverness!) because Scotland in the summer is so crowded and stupidly I hadn’t booked, but Derek was willing to drive. The down side was that we drove along Loch Ness in the dark! We stayed at Aviemore, then drove on to Dornoch, where there is a very fine golf course, every bit as good as St. Andrews. From Dornoch we made two day-excursions, the scenery is just magnificent, and the weather was beautiful, mountains, forests, streams and waterfalls, mist and a ruined castle, rocks and sea. The cathedral in Dornoch is wonderful, 13th century, beautifully carved, compact and exremely well kept. Dornoch even has one ‘good’ restaurant, 2 Quail, Castle Street, Dornoch. It also has rooms to let. Sutherland, IV25. 01802 811 811, fairly expensive but not by London prices. About £35 a head. I was particularly struck by how friendly and pleasant everyone was, and also it was nice to see so many young foreigners working in Scottish hotels for the summer – particularly from Poland.

Then back to Aviemore, I had more family nearby, and Derek went up Cairngorm. Then on the way to Nairn for the jazz festival, which was the real reason for Derek's visit, we saw round Cawdor Castle, extensive grounds and a dungeon dating back to

After the festival we drove to Aberdeen, stayed at a very reasonably priced hotel in Dyce, (by the airport), the Skean Dhu hotel (£50) (a skean dhu is the dirk that men in full Highland regalia wear in their socks). We drove into Aberdeen to let Derek glimpse that lovely city, dropped my luggage then headed out to the airport where he flew off.

I spent two more days in Aberdeen, I have relatives there too, and one lovely day we had tea outside at a tearoom which does heavenly ‘pieces’ or ‘cakes’. The Falls of Feugh Tea Rooms and Restaurant, Banchory, Kincardineshire. They do cater for evening meals, on some days only.

I had forgotten how many handsome buildings there were in Aberdeen, which is where I spent considerable periods of time during my childhood – such as Marishall College. In my youth it formed the main part of the university,. And during Charities week students used to hang various articles of clothing from one of its myriad spires. Now it stands empty. It was going to be a hotel, this year I heard it is now going to be developed for offices. I hope it isn’t going to be left alone for too long. I’d also forgotten the number of churches there were.

Then Edinburgh, where I stayed in the Caledonian (where I had my wedding reception)) then the Malmaison (cheaper, but far too far away to be convenient for the Fringe) and the George cheaper still, a very good location, but I loved the olde-world style and grandeur of the Caledonian Hilton. I saw more cousins, and some friends. I also saw some parts of Edinburgh which I had not seen before – like the enchantingly pretty High School Wynd which leads into the Cowgate. And at least 6 swans on the loch at the foot of Arthur’s Seat. I also went to more jazz venues tham I had been to before.

London - Kew Garden .- 3/10/06

In 1759 the mother of George 111, Princess Augusta, started a private botanical gardens, which became Kew.   It is quite a long journey from here, right to the other side of London, and we didn’t have much time.

First stop was the palm house, where I spotted the Ylang Ylang tree, native to Malaysia and Burma.  It can grow to 30m. in the wild, but they are pruned to a more manageable height for cultivation of the flower, which is picked at dawn  carefully, because if the petals are bruised they’ll turn black.   Next to it was the strange looking Cow Horn tree, growing in geometric shapes, then the macadamia nut tree, a native of Queensland.   It was introduced into Hawaii in 1880, and soon afterwards Hawaii had 90% of the world trade.   Each tree can produce between 30-40 kgs. of nuts.    

Outside it had started to drizzle lightly, as we passed the maidenhair tree, or ginko, dating back to 1762.   It produces a white berry, which is used in China in birds nest soup, both to aid the digestion and hangovers!  

There is an autumn festival display showing the lovely English autumn fruit, there are well over 5,000 cranberries floating in the Great Palm Pond, making a bright splash of colour.   Cranberries have been in England since 1816.   They are perennial in Cape Cod, where there is one plant that is over 150 years old, and still bearing fruit!   The festival runs from 7-29 October.

Pony-Trekking in Pategonia

A few years ago someone at a party suggested that I go to Patagonia to stay with her for a couple of days. That sounded a remote and daring place, but I thought it was such an opportunity, knowing someone there. She lived in a place called El Bolson. The Internet site said that it was beautiful and among the attractions listed was pony-trekking! I thought that I could manage pony trekking, and it would certainly enable me to see more than I usually could from a wheel-chair. So I flew to Bariloche. That made me feel very adventurous, as no-one in the travel agency had heard of it.

The following morning I explored the town. There is a breath-taking view as the town is on the shore of Lake NAHUEL HUAPI, (I loved that exotic sound!) with the snow-capped mountains on the other shore; and the air was so clear that all the colours felt more intense and the details of the scenery were sharper. No happy swimmers, though, or even fish – the water is too cold!

I found a travel agency, Rio – even the name was happy – and, with the help of an extremely friendly and understanding girl, was able to book on to a tour by boat and foot the following day to Puerto Blest and the Cascada Los Cantarros!

There followed a boat-ride of unbelievable beauty : the blue lake mirroring the blue of the sky, the snow covered hills, rising steeply from the sides and the vivid yellow of broom bushes and flowers. The guide, and a helpful young Japanese girl, helped me up about 1/2 mile of steps carved into the hillside – and what a sense of achievement I felt as I watched the steep cascada!

We had lunch in Puerto Blest where there was a signpost pointing across to “Chile, 12 miles” then went to Emerald Lake, high among the Andes with glaciers around, and it really was green although the sky was the same brilliant blue; the water must have been icy cold, fed by still-remaining glaciers.

Then on to El Bolson by bus, a village dominated by the massive mountain Piltriquitron, a picturesque name meaning “that which hangs from the clouds”, the original Mapuche Indian name. For everyday use it is called ‘Piltri’. I made friends with a beautiful, adventurous Spanish girl who had travelled extensively in Patagonia. I later spent an evening with her and her friends in the Bandurria Bar watching people learning to dance the tango.The bandurria is a noisy, gregarious local bird, with longish legs and a long curved beak.

I found a pony trekker willing to take my friend, her partner and me on the ponies and up into the foothills of Piltri.. This was a dirt road; I was thankful that it was not the usual gravelled surface, which raises a lot of dust. Most of the roads around El Bolson are gravelled, the exceptions being in the town centre and the main highways linking the towns.

While we were high on Piltriquitron, we visited ‘El Bosque Tallado’, a collection of sculptures that had been formed in tree stumps and logs. I found a strong commitment to human rights amid the people of El Bolson, many of the sculptures, both up here and in the town’s central park, were a tribute to the human spirit. Also, on the central reservation of the main road leading into town was a sign commemorating the 50th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

I went on two or three more trips; a wonderful walk where my friend helped me up a steep, narrow, woodland path to see ‘la Cabeza del Indio.’ I didn’t actually see this ‘Indian’s Head’ as it could only be reached along a narrow ledge, and I had no wish to kill either myself or my companions. There were wonderful views along the valley to Piltriquitron on the other side. Then we drove off to a cold, grey, windswept lake, on the far side of which was another mountain, but it was in Chile. Freaky (my friend’s partner) had built his own house, with a wonderful view.

They also took me to visit friends of theirs, who had also built their own house. They are a very artistic couple, an artist and a wood turner, with a spectacular view from their front door, looking through their house and out of an enormous picture window to the mountains behind.

I was there for the local fair day, which was a very leisurely affair, a good chance for people to meet and catch up on news. What an artistic lot of people. The winters must be long and lonely. There were stalls selling hand-knitted items, cardigans, jumpers, hats and scarves; bottled fruit, carved clocks, carved toys, wrought iron, hand-fashioned bells, stained glass, paintings, carvings, picture framing, pottery, musical instruments, unbelievably soft leather bags and clothes, hand-made candles, and several stalls selling cd’s. I stopped at one of these, run by a musical family who played their own instruments and accompanied their own singing, which was utterly beautiful. They turned out to be descendants of that first group of Welsh settlers who had come to Patagonia in 1865!

I also went to a village west and south of El Bolson, to see some extraordinary people, one of whom was an Ashoka fellow. If a person has a sufficiently bright idea that will not only change his/her circumstances but also that of a much greater area, then Ashoka pays them a living wage, so that they need not worry about supporting a family, but devote all their time and energy to furthering that idea. Pategonia does not have tv, and they have long and dark winters, so ideas and art flourish.

My friend took me to watch her son playing football. None of these tidy, well-manicured British football-pitches; it was just a field with two goals. But behind this field of rather lumpy grass rose the massive Piltriquitron, with snow-covered mountains opposite, it was just such a beautiful setting. In front of me a family lay on the grass, watching. There were two very young boys, aged about 2 and 4, and the younger one was annoying his elder brother by repeatedly trying to place a cap on him, which eventually led to a direct intervention from the father, but I was amazed at both his, and the elder brother’s tolerance and good-humour. The people generally (I know, you shouldn’t generalise!) seem friendly, good-natured, artistic, happy and helpful – so I hope I go back!

Memories are made of plants? I don’t actually remember palm-trees specifically – but I was born in India, and always feel sentimental when I see a palm tree – or banyans, or lush, tropical vegetation; I recently (well, nearly 10 years ago!) went to Kerala for a visit – a couple of months earlier I had been to the World Travel Market at Olympia where I had gone to the Kerala Press Conference, and had seen pictures of the ‘kettuvaloms’ cruising along the backwaters, and of a tree house 50 feet up, and I knew I wanted to go in the future.

I got in touch with TourIndia, an organisation that will arrange everything for you, which is a real help in India. Tourindia P.B. 163, M.G.Road, Thiruvamanthapuram 695001, Kerala, S India, Tel +91 471 331507, Fax +91 41 331407, Email: tourindia@vsnl.com One of their email addresses is tourindia@richsoft.com, which describes the life-style that they promote.

I flew there with Air Lanka, which was the cheapest flight I could find, with very cramped seats, but as it turned out, we got an added bonus at the end, with several hours at a marvellous hotel, right on the beach at Ngombo, with wonderful sandy beaches and a chance for a last swim in the luxuriously warm ocean , then a sumptuous buffet before boarding the cramped airline back to Kerala.

Coconut-palm land is the meaning of Kerala. It could just as easily been Kakala, or crow-land. First stop, Kovallum, next after Goa in equalling a paradise. I was not impressed. You were constantly having to dismiss hawkers who wandered up and down the beach, with lovely brightly-coloured sarongs, baskets of fruit, piles of mats or sunglasses. The beach itself was lined with small shops and restaurants, all pleading with you to come and buy, look or eat. But on the second day I began to relax more, move at a slower pace, and enjoy the sights, sounds and smells.

The boats used to drop the nets in a huge semi-circle and they would slowly and inexorably be pulled in by two rhythmically chanting lines of people, a process which lasted over an hour. O-o-o-o-o-yoi, O-o-o-o-o-yoi, a pleasant background noise, when you were drinking chai, the wonderfully fragrant cardamom tea-with-hot-milk. As the semi-circle got smaller and the pulling easier, a crowd of people would gather around, to look at what the sea had disgorged, and the catch would be carried away by women with large baskets perched on their heads, often with the tail and sword of a swordfish hanging over the front and back.

Women would dig holes in the sand to bury palm leaves that had fallen down, and men from the local council would prune palm leaves growing too near the telephone lines. Several of the traders work in north India or the Middle East and come down to Kovalam for the winter – rail fares are cheap in India, and although I did hear of a 15-hour delays, I never found one. There are all types of accommodation, some 100 times the price of others. There is one friendly English lady who runs a small boarding house, for several months of the year – until she had to go back to England to work to earn more money, and also to see her family.

But next, after this cheap, hippy start to the Keralan holiday, we were off on a ketuvalum, which was just wonderful. It was a very pampered existence, sitting or lying on the top deck as the boat chugged along canals in between flat spits of land covered with coconut palms. We would stop at set places, sites that were interesting. For instance there was the Brahmin temple. In Hindu mythology there are three main deities; Brahma, the Creator; Vishnu, the Protector and Shiva, the Destroyer.

There are temples all over Kerala, but as Brahma finishes his duty after birth, he tends to get forgotten, and this is the only temple dedicated to Brahma. There were stalls all over the large compound, selling clay lamps, wooden hands and legs and other body parts, which could be bought for 10 or 15 rupees to offer to the gods. People also bring cows or buffaloes from their home as an offering to the temple. Cows wore ornate head-dresses or collars, and it is considered lucky to touch them. We walked round a grove dedicated to the snake temple, though luckily I didn’t see a snake.

The next stop, Fort Cochin, was going to be cheap, but after one night of trying to find the toilet across a courtyard in the dark, we gave up and moved into a little gem , the Malabar House Hotel. The food was simply marvellous – poppadums that literally melt in your mouth and spaghetti cooked and made the Italian way (in fact, an Italian chef/friend of the owner, paid a yearly visit to teach the staff to show how it should be done, There was a swimming pool, which made for a refreshing dip, although it was smal.l There was live music about 3 times a week, mostly Indian..

A good and friendly restaurant is called Addy’s restaurant, near the cathedral. There were hardly any beggars in Fort Cochin, but LOTS in Cochin, a short ferry-ride away. (Judging from what I found on the Internet it has now grown into 5 separate hotels, they look beautiful; - and very expensive, but worth it.)

I had met a man in London the previous week at the 100 jazz club in London who owned (?) some wee fishing village in north Kerala, so after our pampered life on the ums we led a simple one at the village of Muzappaneum, which was much closer to Paradise than Kovallum. It was quite close to Calicut. Swimming in the warm, salty sea, walking on the hard-packed, deserted beach, watching the local women carrying the rubbish away, and then a good, social meal in the evening when everyone in the beach village would gather to talk and eat.

After that delightful interlude we made our way over to the other side of the country, to visit Anthony, who worked in a Kerelan restaurant I went to a lot in London. It is called Rasa, and there are now four restaurants and one take-away – owned by a bright, enterprising Keralan named Das, it is a real success story. They are mostly vegetarian, although one of them, Rasa Samudra, 5 Charlotte Street, London W1, has fish as well. Anthony lives in a lovely house, and harvests rubber (?)

We then went to Vythiri, to stay in one of these tree houses suspended above the forest. There were all mod cons – even a flush toilet! All three of us scrambled on to an elephant’s bare back for a short ride. Because the elephant is such a huge animal, it is impossible to grip with your legs, as in horse-riding, and I felt precarious. Lovely surroundings, at an altitude between 3750 - 4500 feet, Vythiri is known for its evergreen rain forest and coffee, tea, cardamom and pepper plantations.

From there we went to Periyar, a wild life reserve. Needless to say we say we did not see any tigers, although there are reputed to be some and we did speak to some people who had seen panthers. My eyesight isn’t quick enough at focusing to catch many of the birds. We did spend one night in a ‘The Lake Palace’ – (once the home of the Maharaja of Travancore) with wide verandas and deep wicker armchairs) and a huge flowering cactus – but the flowers were ping-pong balls stuck on the ends of the spikes!.

Then back to Tivandrum (that is its former name, its present one is Thiruvananthapuram or something like that.) where we spent a couple of nights in the most magnificent old colonial building, with the architecture I love, really thick walls, and plants outside the room, open to the sky. On one of the nights there was a torrential downpour, soaking the lush, tropical greenery which made me feel so at home.

On the flight on the way over to Vanuatu I gathered as much information as I could from the in-flight magazine. For example, I heard about the islanders’ efforts to save the endangered species, the coconut crab, from extinction, by persuading most of the restaurants not to have it on the menu. . However, on the very first evening, I had a meal out in Le Rendezvous, just across the road from the Melanesian hotel, (friendly, attractive, very willing to help whenever possible, good food – everything was nice except the beds, which were FAR TOO SOFT. Very bad for your back) and it had a blackboard outside displaying coconut crab as the special!

I saw coconut crab twice more on the menu and resisted both times, but on the last morning went to Tarra Beach, a clear unpolluted bay, which would have been just perfect for anyone else with wonderful snorkeling, but I could not move my chair in the soft, deep, white sand. Carlos was the owner, he was building a resort which would be locally built and owned I applaud his sentiment; the bay is idyllic, pristine, with clear water, no noise and a wonderful restaurant where the cooking was done by Lise - this 4th time as there was no lobster I succumbed and tried coconut crab, it has such a wonderful name. But not only did I feel a bit guilty, but there was absolutely no taste of coco nut! The only difference from an ordinary crab was its size.

On the Tuesday I took a trip round the island of Efate originally known as Sandwich Island because both the French and the English settled here and there were two of everything- an English prison and a French one, an English church and a French one, etc. They did not get on, and in one part of the island there are still lines of 'cors-de-lis' planted by the French to mark their boundary and keep the English away.

One of the the islands to the north is called Malekula, a Frenchman was the first explorer, and the story goes that, on taking a toilet break, he wiped himself with the broad, round leaf of the malekula plant and yelled out “J'ai mal au cul!”- it causes itchiness. The island is delightful, the people are so friendly, things are taken at face value, and I was surprised to learn that there is a fair amount of crime in the country. We stopped at a place called Blue Lagoon, where we had a refreshing swim. There are no dangerous insects of animals in Vanuatu, snakes, jellyfish or sharks!

In the evening the hotel had a barbecue, with cultural entertainment from a local tribe of South Pacific Islanders, who played traditional instruments, sang and danced. It was wonderful! We all were able to taste kava too, which was neither fiery nor fizzy; if I lived there I might enjoy a glass too. I took the e-mail address of one of the dancers, only to discover that we shared the same server.

The following day I went horse-riding, which was really nice, walking through the wilderness and at the end even splashing through an inlet, which must have been nearly a metre deep. There was a French family from Nouvelle Caledonie (there were several French-speaking families on holiday there Vanuatu seems to be quite a popular holiday destination). The head of the family was a chiropracter who gave me a useful tip while swimming in the sea during our lunch-break I suppose the vague translation of the name of the beach would be Layby beach, as the name is Erepos (air de repos).

Afterwards I went to the Port Vila markets; although they occupied a huge space, the produce was nearly all vegetables or bananas, so not nearly as picturesque, colourful or beautifully arranged as in France.

I learned about Turtle Bay, which undertakes conservation work, rearing the young in a safe environment before releasing them into the wild at a size when they are better able to take care of themselves. I enlisted the help of the workers, who took me swimming in the sea! I did notice that these people, who one would assume to be ecologically-conscious, were offering coconut crab on the menu.! (When I tackled them about this, their answer was that there are LOTS of these crabs in this part of Vanuatu).

A friend of mine, originally from New Zealand, had six days free in her busy programme of ‘embodiment’ healing, this very effective form of healing relaxation based on yogaic principles. So we decided to ‘do’ the south island of New Zealand in a whirlwind tour Christchurch first, it seemed a pleasant city with its river, parks and cathedral .One night in Christchurch, then on to the area in which she grew up, Oamaru amd Kakanui.

As well as being a historic town – where they have penny farthing races, Oamaru is famous for the blue penguin colony who struggle up the shore every evening to mate and greet their loved ones. Because of the number of tourists, we were not allowed to take photos of the penguins, but I got one of half of the spectators waiting for the penguins to arrive from the sea.

Then we saw the Moeraki boulders, some kilometres south of the town. Although there is not a strong Maori presence in the south island, the story goes that there was a huge canoe carrying some of a Maori tribe which was blown shipwrecked on a reef some 12k. south, and a rocky pinnacle there is said to be the petrified body of the helmsman, and the Moeraki boulders are said to be the gourds and calabashes of the shipwreck.

Before Queenstown we stopped at Wanaka, on the lake. A cafe had been recommended to us in Christchurch, called 'Cheeky Monkey" Another super name, but it was just closing, and the owner recommended 'Rialto' which served a very good coffee, (called caffee l"affare, or something like that) unfortunately only available in Wellington.
Then we drove on to Queenstown, stopping in the middle of the long drive to Queenstown at Omarima at a café called ‘The Wrinkly Rams.’. Super name, and good fopd... Scenery becoming more dramatic.

Queenstown was an o.k. town, though Acushla found the hostel I’d booked into too noisy and dirty, but it had the magnificent mountain range of the Remarkables, a lively arts and crafts market where I met a talented young artist called Anna Boulton. It was raining when we arrived, making it impossible for me to go horse-riding, we decided to move on to Te Anau, a more convenient starting point for The Milford Sound.

We had booked a ride on a small boat to chug around the Sound, which I loved. Magnificent scenery, the captain took us up close to see some small seals basking on a rock, and though we crept a very short distance out of the Sound so that we could feel the sea swell beneath us, we didn’t see any dolphins. We almost went under one waterfall, which gave everyone a thrill.

We heard about someone who attempted to parachute off one of the cliffs, her parachute failed to open properly, and although she lived, it is now forbidden to do anything of the sort.

We also heard about the world-famous Milford Trail. You can only get to it by boat. It is only open for a few months of the year, but even so there are about 12,000 visitors per annum. You have to book to go on it – about a year in advance!! .

It was still sunny on the way back we stopped at the Chasm – otherwise known as the Devil’s playground. It is a really super place – a short walk up through a semi-tropical rainforest dripping with moisture, boulders and trunks of trees all moss-grown, to where a stream rushed and plunges through the narrow space created by massive boulders twisted and worn with the water.

Hungary ˙

It sounded so exotic and out-of-the-ordinary.. I found the Hotel Zara on the internet, it was offering a md-week deal.. It was very central, and it offered free internet connection. I have slowed up a lot; in addition I found it incredibly hard not speaking the language, so at first I didn´t see much of Budapest. However, I did go to the Veci utca, a lovely broad pedestrianised street, and had lunch at the restaurant Fatal, where I tried the Hungarian goulash – simply delicious.! I mistook 50 for 15 euros, and the waiter came running quite a distance down the street to return my change – nice to see such honesty.

For the three days of the festival all the concerts were held in Kecskemet, which was a compact town; the hotel was very central, Sachen Square and an avenue of minaret-shaped white tents housing stalls for jewellry, bags, etc was erected for the Easter Fair´ Also a lively group of Peruvian-Indians (?) were playing pan-pipes, guitar and beating drums.

The culture centre, or community centre, (Kozpont) was within easy walking distance of the hotel. .. After the festival proper, all those who wanted to go were bussed off to Budapest, where I stayed in a more Americanised hotel – the beds in the hotel Zara were much better, but this hotel did have a free business centre.

We were taken on a tour of Budapest by the adorable Bogi, and I think I may have made up my mind too hastily against Budapest.. The reason why some of the buildings look shoddy is because they have not been repaired after the uprising against the Soviets in 1956- we even saw a row of bullet holes across the walls of more than one house. In the square outside the house of parliament is a flag, with a notice under it saying that ’there is a hole in this flag where the Soviet arms had been torn out during the uprising.’

We saw the open-air skating rink, the oldest Christian church, the square of states, parliament, the national gallery, the interior of St Stephen's and we climbed to the top and saw the view. We also saw the view from the statue of liberty, and the next evening went on a dinner-jazz-cruise up the Danube with the Budapest Ragtime Jazz Band.

The next day four friendly people from Yorkshire pushed me round part of the centre of the city which I now like – in spite of their language! For the last evening I went to the Karolyi restaurant, which had a lovely setting in a vourtyard, with a good pianist with a lovely light touch, and the food was very good!

JAZZASCONA

I miss New Orleans, so I went by train, first to Amsterdam, lovely city, with its relaxed laissez–faire attitude to everything except cleanliness and the smooth running of a city; but I feel I am too old to learn such a difficult language to pronounce! I met up with a friend, who manages to juggle looking after a toddler with an equally demanding job at the university. I walked around, then I spent a night in Luzern (Lucerne?), that is such a lovely city. They even have jazz, a jam session once a week at the Hotel Montana, on a Thursday (this was Wednesday!). The hotel does have good food - but it calls itself an 'aart deco' hotel, well, I suppose it is, but not a patch on the Bouillon Racine or others in Paris.

The next morning I took the ferry across lake Lucerne, which almost rivalled the Milford Sound – and is a lot easier to get to! it is 23kms across, with steep hills, bright green pasture and very clean and tidy. We stopped at a lot (if not all) of the villages along the lake shore, and I only woke up to the fact that I should be taking notes half-way across. The lake is 23km long. Schiller loved the lake, and 100 years after his birth the granite Schiller stone was erected in the lake, near the edge.

One village was on the edge of another canton, and the wooden house at the shore was brightly patterned with black and yellow, the traditional markings. That house has been standing there since the 15th century. We passed Belin, the birthplace of the composer of the Swiss National Anthem. From the other end of the lake I took a train to Locarno, through gorges and tunnels, catching breathtaking scenic glimpses.

This festival is everything it's cracked up to be. The town is picturesque, (cobbled streets and hills, which make it hard for me to get around) and set on the edge of beautiful Lake Maggiore. (I didn't find it as beautiful as Lake Lucerne) although I didn't have time to take a boat trip out to the Islo de Brissabago and visit the Botanical Gardens, (another year). It is in the Ticino region, famous for walks and scenery.

View from Ascona

I went to Darwin for a couple of days, which was not nearly long enough, but I booked to go on a one-day tour of KAKADU which was brilliant. It was a 6.30 a.m. start! The night before I had had dinner at the Sailing Club, and seen the legendary sunset. We drove along the Stuart Highway, passing through Palmerston, where many of the 3,000-odd army personnel are based. Then we turned south, and crossed the Adelaide river, then the Mary River. The Mary River used to be the only river of the region without an estuary, until water buffalo were introduced. They liked to graze on the sea front, and over the years the weight of their hooves broke down the embankment and the salt water came in.

In Kakadu itself there are three main rivers; the East, West and South Alligator rivers. There are actually no alligators, only salt and fresh-water crocodiles. The latter are timid, but ‘salties’ are aggressive. The first European explorer, Stewart, had previously come across alligators, and mistook the crocs for alligators, There is tremendous diversity in the region, sandstone plateaux, enormous acreage of forests and vast wetlands. and an incredible number of birds, animals and insects, many of whom are only found in Kakadu.

The first real stop was at Nourlangie, where there are cliffs, cave paintings and ‘bush’. Kakadu got its name from Gagudju, the spoken language, which the earliest European explorers misheard as ‘Kakadu’.

After lunch we went on the Yellow Water cruise. The wet season was just ending, so there weren’t a lot of animals around, but plenty of birds. We were told the aboriginal name for most things, but usual story - I’d forgotten my notebook. There were lots of corella, and we also saw whistling ducks. No quacks.

We saw eagles and their nest, large and built at the top Of a tree.. They have only one mate. Also a white bird, I think it had three names. It is revered by the aboriginal people and has only one mate in its life. I can only remember one – ‘million dollar duck’ because that is the amount of the fine for killing one.

There were tiny striped archer fish, sometimes called the rifle fish, because it could spit out a thin fountain of water. (I am sure you get them in aquariums) The guide told an amusing story about one of her colleagues, who kept one as a pet. It acted as an alarm clock, and woke him in the mornings by spitting water on his face!

We did manage to see two crocs: one of them would lie in the water with its mouth open, when it felt a foreign object it would snap its jaws shut in a hurry with a snap and splash and swirl of water – frightening enough to make people on the boat gasp or squeal!

We passed several clumps of the river pandanus. In a souvenir shop in town was a small booklet about Aboriginal Australia. Apparently women are not allowed to play the didgeridoo because the first didgeridoo was made by Asharom from his penis. There is still a strongly-held superstition that it would make women pregnant. Didgeridoos are made from any tree, usually one like the woolly bat where the termites have already done half the work by hollowing out the branch.

When I got back I went to the one jazz club in town, Nirvana., which I liked. Indian, with Malay and Thai on the menu. Eat in one part, drink and listen to the music in the other. It was called a music restaurant, and when I was there Leah Flanagan sang folks tunes, think they were original compositions, some had real feeling and ‘oomph’ to them. There was also some Indian belly-dancing!

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